The Princess Who Burned Her Crown.

At twenty-six, Isabella Montemayor was the brightest jewel in the crown of her family’s empire. The only daughter of Don Aurelio Montemayor—a titan of oil and cattle whose lands stretched farther than the eye could dream—Isabella was raised among silks and saddle leather, silver spoons and spurred boots. She grew up in a world of old money and modern deals, where power passed hands over mahogany tables and in whispered conversations behind closed doors. She had never known hunger or fear, only the weight of legacy. Yet she moved through her world with both elegance and edge—raised with the etiquette of royalty, but rooted like the earth beneath her family's fields. Served by butlers and trained by the best, Isabella was expected to shine—but few realized how deeply she burned. She was no delicate ornament. She knew the backroads and the balance sheets, could identify a horse's limp before the stable hands could, and had once broken a colt that no man dared mount. Her beauty, while undeniable, was only a fraction of her force. In recent years, the pressure had grown. Other dynasties—owners of banks, media empires, and territories as old as the republic—saw in Isabella not a woman, but a gateway. Marriage proposals dressed as business ventures flooded in, dressed in velvet and gold. They saw her as a bridge to the Montemayor oil veins, the black gold that glistened just beneath the sun-drenched soil. Don Aurelio, proud and calculating, resisted at first. But the world was changing, and alliances were no longer forged with rifles or ranch wars—they were signed at weddings. Though he told himself it was for her future, for her safety, the truth had darker roots. Control. Legacy. Power. Then came the morning that changed everything. After a breakfast laid out in silver trays, beneath the chandelier that had once belonged to an Austrian count, Don Aurelio approached her with papers in hand and a measured tone. The De la Torre family—well-connected, impossibly rich, and dangerously shrewd—had made an offer. Their eldest son, Eduardo, would marry Isabella. In return, the Montemayors would gain access to more drilling rights, political favors, and control over Los Llanos—a region so fertile and rich it was known as the heart of the country. “He’s a good man, Isa,” her father said, his eyes locked on the contract more than on her. “Educated in Switzerland, polite, well-bred. If you marry him, our empire will double. These papers secure three generations.” Isabella raised an eyebrow. Eduardo was all suits and no soul. A man of mirrors, not depth. She set down her coffee cup with theatrical poise and crossed her arms. “I’m not marrying a contract, Papá. I won’t be bartered like cattle at auction.” He sighed. He’d expected resistance, but he thought the weight of duty would eventually win. “Then don’t do it for you. Do it for the Montemayor name. For everything I’ve built.” She stood, walked to the window, the golden plains beyond calling her like an old song. “If you force this, I’ll walk away from it all. From the name, the land, the house. I’ll go with him.” “Who?” he asked, suddenly pale. She turned, defiant and calm. “With Tomás.” The name landed like thunder in the silence. The air thickened. “You will not disgrace this family,” Don Aurelio snapped, slamming his fist on the heavy oak desk. “That contract secures our legacy!” “And what about my freedom?” she shot back. “My life? Or am I just another asset on your balance sheet?” “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve lived in luxury all your life!” She stepped closer. Her voice cracked with emotion but not weakness. “And you’ve never known what it feels like to be sold by the man who’s supposed to protect you.” That night, she entered the family vault. No one saw her. She took a small chest—jewels meant to sweeten the dowry: pearls, heirloom gold, a ruby ring once worn by her grandmother. She saddled her favorite mare, Aluna, and rode under the moonlight, not away from her destiny, but toward it. Toward the only place her heart had ever truly felt free. The journey was long, dusty, and solitary. As dawn broke, she finally saw the small house nestled among the trees. Her heart leapt... then sank. It was modest, with peeling paint and a slanted roof. The windows were shut, no light within. “Tomás! Tomás, it’s me, Isabella!” She called out, her voice hoarse. No response. She dismounted, circling the property, guided by the crunch of dry leaves beneath her boots. Then she saw him. There, under the last light of dusk, stood Tomás. Shirtless, his torso glistened with sweat and sawdust as he split a large log with an old axe. His body bore the marks of years of physical labor: defined muscles, weathered skin, strong arms. He hadn’t noticed her presence. “Tomás?” she said softly. He turned abruptly, startled. “Who’s there? This is private property!” For a moment, he didn’t recognize her. Dressed in fine riding clothes, her face smudged with dust, she didn’t resemble the Isabella of elegant salons. “It’s me, Isabella Montemayor…” Tomás frowned, lowering the axe slowly. “Isabella…? What are you doing here?” She took a deep breath. “They want me to marry someone I don’t love. I ran away. I didn’t know where else to go. Please… I just need to stay for a few days.” He shook his head, glancing toward the house. “This isn’t a place for you, Isa. There are no comforts, no space. I barely have a bed, and it’s small.” “I don’t care. I chose to come here. If I’m a burden, I understand. But I have nowhere else.” She reached into her jacket’s inner pocket, pulling out the small ruby ring. “At least take this. For letting me stay.” Tomás looked at her, offended by the implication. “I don’t need your jewels. I’m not selling a hotel room.” She lowered her gaze, ashamed, feeling she always had to pay for others’ kindness. “Sorry… I just didn’t want you to feel I owed you.” “You owe me nothing, Isabella. Just… don’t make me regret letting you stay.” Night fell as they entered the humble house. Silence was their first conversation, the crackling fire their first truce. Outside, the moon shone over the sleeping fields. And in that simple hut, an heiress finally learned what it meant to live unshackled.