LUST AND LOVE FOR POWER

CHAPTER 7

ISABELLA POV

It’s been a few weeks since I was persuaded to return home under the pretense of my grandmother’s illness. Now, I locked in my old room, suffocating within these four walls. Home, if you could even call it that; feels more like a gilded cage. Or rather, I’m treated like a caged animal.

The Montenegro fortress is no sanctuary. It never was. It's a place of bitterness and silent wars. A house too ravenous to ever be called a home.

For years, I found escape under the guise of studying business abroad, a convenient excuse to flee my father’s oppressive grip. After my mother died in a car crash just two weeks after I turned fifteen, my father wasted no time. He brought in his mistress Maria and her twin sons, the products of his affair. My sanctuary was no longer mine.

Chaos followed. Fights erupted almost daily, either fueled by Maria’s constant accusations to my father or by her sons’ relentless bullying of my younger sister, Elena. She was only six then. They were eleven: spoiled, cruel boys who found joy in tormenting her.

I held out, enduring the turmoil until Elena was old enough to attend boarding school. Then I left for college overseas, finally free. I owe that freedom to my grandmother, my rock, my guardian angel. She was the only warmth in this cold, fractured family. She was our protector, the one person who openly defied my father’s cruelty and stood up for us.

Coming back here, to this cursed land I had avoided for eight years, scorched my soul. But the news of my grandmother’s illness had carved a hollow pit in my stomach, I had to see her.

I exhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. As I walked through the gates of my father’s empire, the maids scurried to announce my return. I stopped them with a curt wave, refusing the spectacle.

To my surprise, my not-so-happy family was already gathered in the living room, waiting.

“Look who decided to return home,” Maria cooed, every word laced with fake sweetness. A polished mask of perfection, the apple of my father’s eye and my lifelong nemesis. Her eyes glimmered with something akin to joy. That alone unsettled me. We both knew the only thing we ever shared was mutual hate.

I forced a smile and embraced her briefly. “Hello… stepmother.”

She chuckled, holding me tightly before I quickly pulled away. The distance between us was the only comfort I had.

“You don’t need to add the ‘step’ part. That’s rude, big sister,” Ezra, the older of the twins, smirked from across the room.

“Actually, it’s too formal,” chimed in Luca, his smirk mirroring his brother’s. “Welcome home, sis. Now we’re finally a complete family.”

Spoiled brats.

I rolled my eyes and turned to Maria. “Where’s Grandmother?”

“Oh, you will have to ask your father. He’s in his study, waiting for you.”

Of course, he was. Always choosing theatrics over decency.

I walked into the sprawling study where Hector Montenegro, my father, sat behind his towering desk, surrounded by a mess of papers. He looked up; his expression surprisingly soft.

“My baby girl!” he exclaimed, rising to wrap me in a hug. “Welcome home!”

His enthusiasm was almost grotesque. This was the same man who didn’t blink when I disappeared for years, who ignored me when I made scandalous headlines just to get a sliver of his attention.

I pulled away. “Thanks, Dad. Nice to see you again.”

“You’ve grown so much. Last I saw you… was in the tabloids.”

Ah yes, the headlines, I once wanted nothing more than his approval, to be his princess again. But I’d learned better. His world revolved around his sons and his porcelain-doll wife. I was just a forgotten chapter.

Now, I only wanted to finish my business, take Elena with me after her final high school exams, and vanish again.

“How is Grandma? Where is she? I need to see her.”

The warmth vanished from his face. He leaned back; lips pressed into a hard line.

My stomach dropped. “Is she okay?”

He chuckled coldly. “Sit down, Isabella.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“You’ll want to sit for what I’m about to say.”

Reluctantly, I lowered myself into the chair, heart pounding.

“You will be pleased to know your grandmother is perfectly healthy.”

“What?” I gasped, confused.

“I lied,” he said nonchalantly. “It was the only way to bring you home.”

I shot up from my chair, knocking it over in disbelief. “You lied? You used her to manipulate me?!”

“That’s not the best part,” he continued smugly. “I’ve arranged your marriage. You’re to be engaged. The ceremony will be held soon.”

My world tilted.

“I don’t believe you!”

“Then Elena will be the bride,” he replied, unbothered.

My heart slammed against my ribs. “She’s only seventeen! You’re insane! Do you hate us so much that you’d sell us off like property?!”

“I chose a man worthy of our bloodline. It’s for your good.”

“Just like you chose for Mother?” I spat. “You drove her to her death!”

In a flash, he crossed the room and slapped me, hard. The sting burned down my cheek, and I stood frozen in shock. He’d never hit me before.

Maria gasped behind the door. I wasn’t surprised she was eavesdropping.

“Roberto!” my father barked. The head of security appeared almost instantly.

“Take Isabela to her room. Lock it.”

As Roberto grabbed my arm, my father gave me one final warning.

“Think carefully. If you refuse, Elena will take your place.”

“You’re a monster,” I seethed. “I hate you. I hate all of you!”

I was dragged upstairs, screaming. Once again, locked away like an animal.

Three Days Later…

It’s been three days since my imprisonment began. My phone, my laptop, and every means of communication are gone. The only faces I see belong to maids who bring food or clean up. A perfect, silent punishment.

Today, my father summoned me again. I had hoped for a change of heart.

Instead, he threw documents onto his desk with a smug grin.

“Everything you need to know about your future husband is in there. Read it thoroughly. You’ll meet him tonight.”

I stared at the files, disgust curling in my gut. The life I fought for, freedom, dreams, passion was being erased.

But maybe… maybe this is my chance.

As if reading my mind, he said coldly, “Don’t try anything foolish, Isabella. Make him choose you… or Elena pays the price.”

I glared at him. “Like I ever had a choice.”

I snatched the documents and stormed off, Roberto shadowing me like a vulture.

Click. The door locked behind me once again.

A prisoner in my own home.

But I swear, I will find a way out of this.

Even if it’s the last thing I do.

****

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I dropped the folder onto the floor and slumped against the edge of the bed. My chest heaved with a mix of rage and despair. I stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all, but the storm in my mind refused to quiet.

How did my life spiral into this?

Eight years of building a future, of escaping this poisoned place, and now I’m right back where I started, trapped under the thumb of the same man who crushed my spirit all those years ago.

I turned my head to the folder on the ground. My “betrothed.” Even the word made me sick. I reached for it with shaking hands, flipping it open. A name stared back at me: Sebastian Hernandez.

My brows furrowed.

That name… it felt familiar somehow. I scanned the contents; background, assets, family lineage. He came from a powerful business family with holdings across the Yucatán. A former fisherman turned entrepreneur. That was unusual. His dossier highlighted how he had recently inherited a large portion of the Hernández Group’s wealth and holdings.

What kind of man was he? A gold-digger turned mogul? A puppet for my father to manipulate? Or worse… someone just as cold and calculating as the man who raised me?

I kept reading, but the words blurred.

What if he’s just like Father? What if he sees me as nothing more than a pawn too?

The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d spent my whole life dodging arranged introductions and business suitors back in Europe, only to be forced into one the moment I stepped foot on home soil.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the glass. My thoughts drifted back to simpler times before the crash, before the mistress, before the twins.

I remembered being ten years old, curled up beside my mother in the sunroom, listening to her hum as she braided my hair. Her touch was soft, her presence comforting. She used to call me her “little lioness” … fierce, defiant, untamable.

Where was that lioness now?

Dead, maybe buried beneath years of pretending to be obedient just to survive in a home that hated me.

A knock at the door jolted me back.

“Señorita Isabella,” a maid whispered timidly. “Your father says it’s time to get ready.”

I turned slowly. “Tell him I’ll come down when I’m dressed.”

She nodded quickly and fled.

I walked to the vanity, running my fingers over the ornate edge. My reflection stared back tired eyes, a fading bruise on my cheek, and lips set in a straight, unforgiving line.

I opened the wardrobe, finding a designer dress laid out; something in soft champagne satin, with a high slit and off-the-shoulder neckline. No doubt picked by Maria to make me appear polished and submissive. I almost laughed. A pretty cage for a rebellious bird.

Still, I slipped into the gown, ignoring the lump forming in my throat. I pinned up my hair and dabbed on a hint of lipstick, just enough to mask the turmoil beneath.

Before I left the room, I paused at the door. My hand hovered over the handle. What if I ran now? What if I scaled the wall, screamed for help, bribed a maid?

But no… he’d take Elena. And that wasn’t a risk I was willing to take

I took one last look at the girl in the mirror and whispered to myself, “Be the lioness.”

And I walked out.

****

I arrived at the venue my father had selected. The dining hall was dimly lit, with golden sconces casting soft light across the crystal chandeliers. Every detail reeked of opulence. A private dinner had been arranged in one of the smaller salons… a “casual engagement discussion,” they called it. Roberto hovered nearby, watching.

My breath caught as he turned around.

Sebastian Hernández.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, blue-eyed, and strikingly attractive. His presence was authoritative, yet it was not solely his physical attributes that captured my attention; it was his facial expression. He displayed an unreadable demeanor both aloof and composed. This remarkably imposing individual was the person my father had chosen for me. He appeared to possess a level of dominance that I found overwhelming.

‘Make him choose you… or Elena pays the price.’

My father's voice echoed in my mind. I knew what was at stake here if I lost securing Sebastian as mine. I quickly composed myself and walked with the grace that only my mother had taught me.

I took my seat, heart thudding. He looked at me; disinterested, distant. His gaze was sharp, unreadable.

I had to use my wits. This was a game and I intend to win.

“So, you’re the long-lost Hernandez.” I had to find a way to start the conversation somehow, he didn’t look interested

“I suppose I am,” his voice, deep, sensual and surely made me feel uneasy, in a dangerous way.

“And you don’t want to marry me,” I said impulsively. With no control of my mind, which was stuck thinking of how good he sounded.

“I’m not interested in marriage, especially not one that’s arranged.”

Ouch.

From what I gathered about him, he had a daughter whose mother wasn’t in the picture. More like a messy breakup, love was out the door for him. Well, I didn’t want to be in an arranged marriage. I need to escape my father.

A flicker of amusement crossed my face despite myself, “Neither am I,” I felt at ease with him, speaking out my intrusive thoughts.

I glanced at Roberto, who was watching us closely, that gave me a reality check.

If not me, then Elena

Sebastián followed my eyes and lowered his voice. “Then why are you here?”

I didn’t want him to get an impression that I was forced, if I did, I would lose him and the only chance I had to protect my sister.

“Because in our world, marriage isn’t about romance or choice. It’s about strategy. My father wants this union as much as yours does. But that doesn’t mean we have to be foolish about it.” I sounded so much like my father.

He leaned forward. “What are you proposing?”

For a man like this, giving him a chance to have a union devoid of emotional attachments and duty. It would be like giving candy to a child.

“A partnership,” I said. “We marry for appearances; politics, business, family legacies. But we lead separate lives beyond the public eye. No expectations, no emotional entanglements.”

A beat of silence.

“Fine, let’s do it” he said. Just like that.

Sharp. Curt. Cold.

No hesitation. No emotion.

I leaned back, reassessing him. Not a savior. Not a villain. A wildcard.

And maybe… my only way out.

But I’d have to play this right. I’d have to make him trust me, even if I didn’t trust him. Yet.