Chapter 3 - Walls of the Montero PenthouseLiving in the Montero penthouse felt like existing inside an glass museum. Everything was immaculate, expensive, and completely devoid of warmth.
For the first two weeks, Elena rarely saw Ricardo during the day. He left for Montero Enterprises before sunrise and returned long after midnight. Yet, every morning, a detailed medical update regarding her brother Mateo was left on the granite kitchen island—printed directly from the top private hospital in the state. Mateo’s specialized treatments had begun, funded entirely by Ricardo's personal accounts.
Elena spent her days trying not to lose her mind. She began visiting the penthouse balcony, bringing small pots of jasmine, roses, and ferns from her family's struggling shop. Slowly, she transformed the cold glass terrace into a small, vibrant sanctuary.
One evening, Ricardo returned earlier than usual. He loosened his tie as he stepped onto the terrace, stopping short when he saw the greenery filling the corners.
Elena was crouched on the floor, soil on her hands, wearing a simple cotton shirt and jeans. She looked up, startled.
“What is all this?” Ricardo asked, his brow furrowed as he looked at the blooming flowers.
“It’s life,” Elena said defensively, wiping her brow with the back of her wrist, leaving a smudge of dirt across her cheek. “This place felt like a vault. Plants need air, and people need color.”
Ricardo stared at the small white jasmine blossoms, then down at the dirt smudge on her cheek. For the first time, the harsh lines around his mouth relaxed slightly.
“My mother loved jasmine,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
Elena blinked. “Your mother?”
Ricardo cleared his throat, his posture instantly re-stiffening. “Keep the mess contained to the balcony. The housekeeper comes on Thursdays.”
He turned to leave, but stopped at the threshold. Without turning around, he added, “Mateo’s doctor called today. His white blood cell count is stabilizing. The new therapy is working.”
Elena’s heart leaped. “He’s getting better?”
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“He’s responding,” Ricardo said softly. “You don't need to worry about the bills, Elena. That was the deal.”
As he walked into his study, Elena watched his back. The cold, ruthless billionaire who had demanded she take off her dress on their wedding night was the same man quietly saving her brother’s life without asking for a word of thanks.
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