The sun was setting on the horizon when Elisa Santos crossed the gardens of her grandmother's mansion. The gentle breeze stirred the strands of hair she always kept tied in a simple bun, almost like a shield against curious glances. Despite the rare beauty she had carried since childhood, Elisa never allowed herself to be dazzled by her reflection. She preferred discretion, clothes without shine, and subdued colors that went unnoticed amidst her family's luxury.
But those who knew her closely understood that Elisa was much more than appearances. She had delicate yet firm hands that once dreamed of holding a scalpel and saving lives. Medicine had been her great passion. Studious and dedicated, she had won academic awards, but a phone call from her grandmother, Francisca Santos, had changed everything. Elisa had abandoned the university hallways to live under the mansion's roof, keeping the interrupted dream only in her memory.
And it wasn't just medicine she had left behind. In the silence of her room still rested the violin, kept in its dark wooden case, and the dance slippers that once made her twirl on the stage of a small theater in Rio de Janeiro. Music and dance were her soul, but since returning to her grandmother's mansion, she had never dared to play even a single note.
Francisca Santos was a woman with a commanding presence, whose elegance and firmness impressed even the most powerful. Widow of one of the most respected men in the country, she had become the guardian of the Santos surname and all the values that came with it. Elisa loved her deeply and saw her as a safe harbor, though she knew that behind her grandmother's affection also lay non-negotiable decisions.
That night, dinner was more silent than usual. Francisca seemed distant, thoughtful, as she watched her granddaughter slowly eat her salad. Elisa, accustomed to her reserved manner, tried to ignore the tension hanging in the air, but couldn't help feeling that something was about to change.
"My dear," Francisca finally said, resting her cutlery on the table. Elisa raised her eyes, attentive. "It's time to fulfill your role in this family."
The words fell like a stone in her chest. Elisa didn't respond immediately. Francisca wasn't a woman who beat around the bush. When she spoke like this, it was because something serious, non-negotiable was coming.
"I... don't understand, Grandma," she said in a soft voice, though a twinge of apprehension ran through her body.
Francisca interlaced her fingers, resting her elbows on the table. "You have always been the jewel of our family, Elisa. Intelligent, well-mannered, raised with values that few still preserve. But the time has come for you to join with someone who will guarantee not only your future, but our legacy."
She felt her heart race. She knew what her grandmother meant, but refused to believe it. "Are you talking about... marriage?"
Francisca nodded slowly. "Yes. A marriage that will be the most important alliance of your life."
The air seemed thin. Elisa lowered her eyes, feeling her throat dry. Marriage. That word had always been distant from her plans, especially because, deep down, she dreamed of choosing someone she truly loved, someone who shared her hidden passions, someone who saw her beyond the Santos surname.
"To whom?" she asked, almost in a whisper, already fearing the answer.
Francisca leaned back in her chair, her gaze as firm as a sentence. "Eduardo Castro."
The name echoed in her mind like thunder. Eduardo Castro. The billionaire who dominated headlines, CEO of a business empire, known not only for his coldness in business, but also for the arrogance with which he treated everyone around him. A man feared, respected, and hated in equal measure.
Elisa's eyes widened in disbelief. "You... you mean... are you serious?"
Francisca kept her gaze fixed on her granddaughter. "More than ever. This agreement was planned years ago, when your grandfather was still alive. Frederico Castro, a friend of our family and Eduardo's grandfather, trusted me to ensure this day would come. And it has."
Elisa felt the ground disappear beneath her feet. The weight of family traditions, now added to a promise made between two generations, imprisoned her even more.
"Grandma... I don't know this man. I know nothing about him beyond what the newspapers say. How can you ask me... no, how can you force me into something like this?"
Francisca took a deep breath, her expression softening slightly. "Because you are a Santos. And because I know you are strong enough to face any challenge. Eduardo may seem like a man of ice, but I believe you will have the chance to see beyond his armor."
Elisa remained silent, feeling tears threatening to fall, but not allowing them to flow.
That night, locked in her room, she opened the violin case and ran her fingers over the dusty strings. She played a single note, which sounded low, melancholic, as if echoing all the weight in her heart. Then she closed the case and lay down on her bed, knowing her fate was sealed.
And, somewhere in the city, Eduardo Castro had perhaps already received the news that his path would cross with hers.
And so, on that quiet night, began the story that would forever change Elisa Santos' life.