Contract of Silence

PROLOGUE

VALENTINA MUNIZ

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

A woman never forgets the day she gets married.

The white dress flowed over my body like liquid silk, every seam and adjustment made just for me, molding perfectly to my curves. It looked as though it had been pulled straight from my dreams—just one more reason why this was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

The veil was light and delicate, lace so fine it felt like a jewel resting on my skin. Everything was exactly the way I had always imagined it would be. I took a deep breath, my heart pounding violently in my chest as I walked slowly down the grand aisle of the Cathedral of Sé.

My fingers tightened around the bouquet hard enough to leave marks. Every step brought me closer to him. And nothing else mattered.

Enrico Ferrara.

The man I had fallen hopelessly in love with—so intensely it felt almost absurd. Twenty years older than me, Enrico had entered my life without asking permission, turned my world upside down, and made me believe that fairy tales really did exist, even for ordinary girls like me.

Three hundred guests watched me from the pews. Curious women. Serious, appraising men. Members of an elite that would never fully accept me. But none of that mattered, because at the altar, waiting for me, stood Enrico.

And one look from him had always been enough to make me forget every judgment.

One restrained smile from that powerful, arrogant man—and I would forget who I was, sinking willingly into the sweet illusion that was our story.

I was certain Enrico would smile when he saw me.

How could he not? He had told me so many times that I was the greatest gift of his life.

The wedding march echoed in my ears, mingling with the violent beat of my heart. My body trembled beneath the delicate fabric of my dress. I was nervous, of course. What bride wouldn’t be?

But the moment I looked ahead and saw Enrico waiting for me—impeccable in a suit that looked tailored onto his perfect body—the rest of the world fell silent. His posture was proud and rigid, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that almost burned.

That was how he had always looked at me.

As if I were the only source of light in a dark universe.

But in that moment, it was I who was blinded—by love, by emotion, by the certainty that I finally belonged to him completely.

My father placed my hand in Enrico’s, smiling as he kissed my forehead before stepping away. I reached for Enrico’s arm, searching for the comfort of his warmth, his solidity.

He stepped back.

Just slightly. Almost imperceptibly.

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to believe it was only the tension of the moment. After all, this was Enrico. The man who said he loved me. The only man with whom I could imagine my entire life.

I inhaled deeply and smiled at him, searching his eyes, trying to say with that look everything I felt, everything I dreamed.

Enrico didn’t smile.

There was no softness in the face I knew so well.

“Enrico?” I whispered, confused—almost pleading.

He remained impassive, ignoring me completely. The priest began the ceremony, but I barely heard him. All I could see was the rigid, almost aggressive posture of the man I loved.

Something was terribly wrong.

Cold waves of fear swept through my body, every instinct screaming a warning.

The priest’s words sounded distant, unintelligible. I couldn’t take my eyes off Enrico—off the ice in his gray irises, the unnatural tension in his jaw. I silently begged him to look at me, to explain what was happening.

“Enrico Ferrara,” the priest’s voice rang out, loud and firm, pulling my attention back. “Do you freely and willingly accept Valentina Muniz as your lawful wife?”

Absolute silence.

The air left my lungs when Enrico didn’t answer.

I felt movement ripple through the pews, restless bodies shifting as murmurs began to spread through the church.

Finally, he spoke.

And the words that left his mouth split my soul in two.

“No.”

His voice was firm. Merciless. As if he had just pronounced a death sentence.

“I will not marry this woman.”

The silence that followed was brutal, deafening—and brief.

In the next instant, hushed murmurs exploded among the guests, a cruel wave of voices judging me without mercy.

The floor seemed to give way beneath my feet. My heart plummeted, shattering along with every dream I had built over the past months. My skin turned cold as all eyes fixed on me.

But I couldn’t look anywhere else. At anyone else.

Only at the gray irises I once believed I knew so well—until they swallowed me whole.

In that moment, my entire world was Enrico Ferrara.

And as I looked at him, the man who used to hold me at night was gone. The man who whispered promises of love in my ear was gone. The man who spoke filthy, desperate words while he was inside me was gone.

What stood before me was a stranger—cold in a way I had never seen before. A darkness that froze me from the inside out, destroying the last fragile remnants of hope I still clung to.

Enrico held my gaze for long seconds, his expression filled with such intensity and contempt that I had to fight just to keep breathing. Each second felt like an eternity. Each heartbeat was another step toward a cliff I wasn’t sure I would survive falling from.

I desperately searched his face for something—anything—that contradicted this sudden cruelty. Some trace of the tenderness he had sworn he felt for me just hours earlier.

There was nothing.

Nothing at all.

All I saw was resentment and hatred, mixed with a pain so deep and silent I couldn’t begin to understand it. It felt like a promise—that this wasn’t the end. That this humiliation was only the beginning of the suffering he intended for me.

I will destroy you, his eyes seemed to say.

Every part of you. Every memory you have of me.

Hot tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t look away. I accepted every silent blow from that merciless stare, even without understanding why.

“Please,” I whispered, barely audible, knowing only he would hear. My soul shattered under his indifferent silence. I didn’t even know what I was begging for anymore—only that I needed my Enrico back. My love. Please, universe, give him back to me.

“Enrico… please.”

This woman.

That was how he had referred to me.

As if I weren’t the woman who had stood by his side for the last two years. As if I weren’t carrying his child.

My hands instinctively moved to my stomach, and his gaze followed the gesture.

A smile—one I had never seen before—curved his lips. A sneer.

Enrico finally moved.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between us until there was almost none. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes and turned his face away, denying me even that final connection.

“There is something I need to say,” he said coldly, turning to face the guests seated in the cathedral. His expression was completely devoid of emotion.

“I will not marry you, Valentina,” he repeated, and the world disappeared beneath my feet. I blinked, convinced this couldn’t be happening. Not to me. Not with Enrico.

“I will not marry a woman who lied to me. Who cheated on me. And who planned to force me to raise another man’s child.”

The accusations struck me like violent blows.

I staggered. My entire body shook.

“I never—” I tried to defend myself, desperate, but he cut me off.

“There’s no need for more lies. This farce is over. I’ve seen enough. I’ll admit it—you fooled me well for two years. But nothing lasts forever, does it, darling?”

His voice dripped with sarcasm as he finally looked at me again.

Those words hurt more than anything else.

Because once, Enrico had promised me forever.

And I had believed him.

I opened my mouth, trying to breathe, but no air came. My eyes burned, my vision blurred at the edges. Hot, heavy tears pooled in my eyes, but I couldn’t even find the strength to let them fall.

Why?

Everything around me spun. The shocked voices and whispers of the guests faded into distant noise. My gaze begged him for doubt, for affection—anything that told me this nightmare wasn’t real.

But there was nothing in those gray eyes except contempt.

“I don’t know what you think you were told, Enrico, but please—you’re wrong. I—” I reached for him again, desperate.

He jerked away as if I were something repulsive.

“Don’t touch me.”

His voice was low. Dangerous.

“You will never touch me again,” he decreed with a dry laugh.

“You will never look in my direction again. You will never breathe the same air as me, dare to speak my name, or even think it. I am erasing your existence from my life. And for your own good, I suggest you accept this as an act of mercy.”

“I love you,” I said—and even to my own ears, I sounded pathetic. But what choice did I have? I had woken up that morning ready to live my dream. Ready to marry this man.

“I’m carrying your child!”

Enrico’s eyes closed briefly. When they opened again, a new kind of fury burned in them.

He stepped forward, his dominating, threatening posture forcing me to instinctively retreat.

Then he leaned down, bringing his lips close to my ear. The words he whispered cut deeper than any public humiliation ever could.

“Did you really think a baby would be enough to trap a man like me?”

His voice was an icy whip, each syllable soaked in venom.

“Women like you are good for empty nights, Valentina. A man like me doesn’t choose a girl anyone could have for a few dollars and cheap attention. You were a mistake. Nothing more. And today, I am getting rid of that mistake.”

He pulled back as slowly as he had approached, holding my shattered, stunned gaze for one final second before delivering the final blow.

“I hope you enjoyed your last fantasy of being important. Because from today on, you are nothing to me. And you will never have anything of mine—my name, my money, or my child. You are less than the insects crushed beneath my shoes, Valentina.”

My eyes burned as I desperately tried to understand the absurdity of what was happening. My heart, which moments earlier had been overflowing with happiness, was now being ripped apart—destroyed with cruelty by the last person I ever expected.

“Enrico…” I whispered, humiliated, broken. I was now the woman abandoned at the altar. The woman everyone watched beg.

Enrico turned his back on me without mercy.

Without hesitation.

He walked away from the altar under the horrified, indignant—or satisfied—stares of the guests. He never looked back.

I stood there, alone at the center of the altar, my perfect dress, my bouquet crushed in my hands, my dreams scattered across the floor.

Exactly as Enrico wanted me.

Tears streamed freely down my face. My vision blurred completely as the murmur of the crowd grew louder.

My father tried to reach me. Someone came to hold me upright. But I felt nothing but pain, shame, and despair.

It was the perfect image of a woman destroyed.

A woman who fell from heaven to hell in a matter of seconds, who lost everything she loved and believed in before hundreds of silent witnesses.

And there, at the altar of that immense cathedral—surrounded by people who judged me, despised me, or pitied me—I made myself a promise.

Enrico Ferrara would never find me again.

He would never know about our daughter.

And he would never again have the power to destroy my life.

Never.

“Get me out of here,” I whispered weakly, my body collapsing into the arms of whoever was holding me.

“Please… just get me out of here.”

Instinctively, I covered my stomach with my free hand—a useless gesture to protect the innocent life inside me, the life Enrico had just rejected in front of everyone.

And as I was dragged out of the church, I left her behind at that altar—the girl who believed in love.

Because she no longer existed.

The woman who rose in her place would never again give anyone the power to shatter her like that.