Chapter 7 - Transformation Behind Closed DoorsBy nightfall, Mariana’s world had been completely upended.
The cramped basement room she had shared with Valentina was gone. Instead, they were installed in the Grand Master Suite on the second floor—a sprawling chamber of velvet draperies, king-sized beds, crystal chandeliers, and a private marble bathroom that looked like a luxury spa.
A knock sounded on the heavy oak door. Mariana opened it to find a team of high-end stylists, private tailors, and personal assistants standing in the hallway, led by a stern-faced woman holding a tablet.
"Good evening, Ms. López. I am Vivienne, Mr. Rivas’s chief of personal presentation," the woman announced briskly, walking into the room without waiting for an invitation. "Mr. Rivas has instructed us to prepare you for tomorrow morning’s emergency press conference. The narrative must be airtight."
For the next three hours, Mariana was poked, prodded, measured, and transformed. Her faded clothes were whisked away, replaced by rows of designer dresses hanging in the walk-in closet. Her hair, usually tied back in a messy bun, was treated with expensive oils and styled into soft, elegant waves.
When Vivienne finally stepped back and turned Mariana toward the full-length mirror, Mariana didn't recognize the woman staring back at her.
Gone was the exhausted, frightened housekeeper running from an abusive past. In her place stood a stunning, sophisticated woman who looked every bit like she belonged in the upper echelons of high society. The expensive silk dress draped gracefully over her figure, accentuating features that had been hidden beneath fatigue and cheap work uniforms.
"Acceptable," Vivienne muttered, making a quick note on her tablet. "Remember, Ms. López: tomorrow at the grand charity gala at the Metropolitan Club, you do not speak unless spoken to. You smile, you stand beside Mr. Rivas, and you let him do the talking. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Mariana whispered.
Meanwhile, in his private study downstairs, Alejandro stood by the window, swirling a glass of amber scotch.
The heavy oak door swung open without a knock. Rebeca stormed in, her face twisted in absolute fury.
"Have you lost your absolute mind, Alejandro?!" Rebeca hissed, slamming her hands onto the edge of his desk. "Moving that common cleaning woman and her brat into the master wing? Presenting her as your fiancée to the board and the press? Have you forgotten who we are? The Rivas name means power! We don't marry gutter trash!"
Alejandro didn't flinch. He slowly turned his head, his cold, gray eyes locking onto his sister with a terrifying stillness.
"My name, my company, and my empire are built on my decisions, Rebeca," Alejandro said, his voice dangerously soft. "Not yours."
"The press will tear her apart! The socialites will chew her up and spit her out before the appetizer is served!" Rebeca shouted.
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Alejandro took a slow sip of his scotch, a faint, predatory smirk touching the corner of his lips.
"Let them try," Alejandro murmured. "They have no idea what she’s walking into. And neither does the man currently looking for her."
