It was almost 6 p.m. when there was a knock at Catalina's door. Expecting Nina, she murmured lazily, "Come in," without bothering to get up.
The door opened and three women walked in, confident and precise.
Catalina blinked.
The same stylists who showed up every time she had somewhere to be with Mr. Montoya. Were they here to put her together again?
She held back the eye roll. Gave them a small smile instead.
"We're here on Mr. Montoya's orders," one of them said, a slight bow. "To prepare you for dinner."
She hadn't asked for them. She nodded anyway and sat down in front of her mirror, trying to quiet whatever was going on in her chest.
Their hands moved fast. Practiced. Almost mechanical, every motion polished by years of doing this to other women. Catalina watched her reflection and barely recognized what they were building.
"I thought it was just a dinner," she murmured.
One of them smiled. The kind of smile that means orders are orders. "It's a Montoya dinner, miss."
"Oh." She swallowed. The memories came back fast - the first and last time she'd walked into that mansion. Hair she'd curled herself, a borrowed dress, shoes that pinched her toes the whole night. Everyone had looked like royalty. She'd looked like someone dropping off a package. Javier hadn't even noticed.
When they finished, Catalina looked - elegant. Soft waves framing her face, warm makeup, a simple but expensive dress that probably cost more than two months of her old rent, falling perfectly. She didn't want to think about the price.
---
The drive to the mansion felt too long. Catalina sat quiet, fingers working at the fabric of her dress. Alejandro was beside her, same unreadable face, scrolling through something on his phone.
"Alejandro," she said softly.
"Mm."
"I'm nervous."
He didn't look up. "That's the point of the contract, Catalina. Make them believe it."
She frowned and looked away. "That's not what I meant."
Silence. Then, without looking at her, he reached over and slipped his fingers through hers.
"You'll be fine," he murmured. "Stay close to me and try your best to ignore my mother."
Catalina raised an eyebrow. Wondered what that meant.
---
The mansion rose up exactly the way she remembered it. Something carved out of old money and pride.
She breathed in one more time than necessary before Alejandro opened the door and she walked in behind him.
Doña Carmen appeared first. Older, elegant, still, radiating the kind of authority that didn't need to announce itself. She hugged her son warmly, took his face in both hands the way a mother does when she adores her child.
Catalina stepped forward with a polite smile.
The woman's eyes moved over her. Slow. Assessing. Unimpressed.
"You're... welcome," she said, a stiff nod.
The coldest welcome Catalina had ever received. She let it go. Remembered what Alejandro had said.
They walked further in and Catalina's stomach dropped the moment she saw her.
Mariana Montoya. Javier's mother. The woman who used to smile sweetly at her while pulling the strings that took everything apart.
Mariana turned and went still.
"Catalina?" Her eyebrows lifted. "You're here... again?"
Catalina's breath caught. Oh no. She hadn't expected her.
If Mariana was here - was Javier here too?
Alejandro's eyes moved between them. "You know each other?"
Mariana smoothed her expression fast. "Ah - yes. We met once. Briefly." A lie, said with elegance.
Alejandro didn't push it. Just nodded and guided Catalina into the dining room.
The Montoya family was already seated, conversation going in every direction. Catalina felt like an intruder standing at the edge of a world she didn't belong in, but she was grateful the only face from her past was Mariana's.
She sat beside Alejandro. He left his hand on the table, close enough to touch hers but not touching. His strange way of steadying her.
Doña Carmen's voice cut through the noise and Catalina felt the woman's eyes on her.
"So, Catalina," she began, interest sharpening her tone. "Jandro tells us you're in love. Which is a little strange, since he's never brought a woman home before, though he was everywhere in the magazines with Lucía."
The table seemed to pause.
"Mamá-" Alejandro's voice, a warning.
"What? I'm just trying to make her feel included," she said, unbothered. Then, a smile that didn't reach anything, "My son doesn't seem to like that question. What is it you do exactly?"
Catalina kept her smile in place. "I work freelance. And I run small fundraising projects for children living on the streets."
A pause. Then the tight, disappointed press of lips.
"Oh. I see."
She didn't see anything. She was judging.
"And will you inherit your father's company?" Carmen continued. "Or will your siblings?"
Catalina's chest tightened. "There's no company. And my parents - they passed away."
"Ah." Carmen nodded slowly, like she was confirming something she'd already suspected. "So you're not a socialite. Not from a business family. Not one of us."
Catalina shrank a little, fingers tensing under the table. Then Alejandro's hand moved and brushed hers. Slow. Quiet. The only warm thing in the room.
She reached for her glass, trying to swallow down the embarrassment burning in her chest. Took a sip just as Carmen said, casual as anything:
"Well. At least Alejandro knows she's not pretending to be more than she is."
Catalina choked.
The wine went everywhere before she could stop it.
Could the night get worse?
Carmen leaned back, the disgust open on her face. "Control yourself. Honestly. You will never meet this family's standards. Some circles are too refined to mix - especially with people like you."
"That's enough." Alejandro's voice came out cold, cutting through the room, cutting off his mother mid-breath. "That's not your call to make."
A silent shock moved through the table. Alejandro had spoken against his mother. Not just his mother - the Montoya matriarch.
Every head lifted. No one said anything.
Then Don Montoya walked in, and the room went quiet without him having to ask it to.
"Oh," he said easily. "Everyone's here."
Alejandro stood. "Good evening, Don."
The older man nodded. "Alejandro." Then his eyes found Catalina and, unlike everyone else, he smiled. "You must be Catalina."
She stood and dipped her head. "Good evening, sir."
"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he said kindly.
Alejandro's fingers brushed her back under the table. Not a big thing. Just enough.
Catalina looked around the room, quietly praying. Don't let Javier be here. Don't let Mariana say anything. Just let tonight end cleanly.
But the universe had never been particularly kind to her, and the thought was still sitting in her head when footsteps came down the hall.
"God," she breathed, and turned.
There he was. Just as charming and arrogant as she remembered.
His eyes landed on her.
He stopped. Clearly hadn't been expecting her.
"Catalina?" he exhaled.
Alejandro's brow pulled together immediately. "You two know each other?"
Her heart slammed hard.
Javier looked between her in Alejandro's
chair and Alejandro's hand near hers.
"What are you doing here. With my uncle."
Catalina couldn't breathe.
The Montoya dining room went completely silent.