She was only 19 years old. She had never been with a man and was married to a billionaire sheik who turned 75. On the night of the wedding, he only wanted to formalize the union. But what happened in that bedroom shocked the whole world.

She was only 19. And at that moment, she heard from her mother the words that changed her life forever. It was the only chance to save the family winery.

At first she thought it was some kind of nonsense, but her father’s look said it all without words. The offer was official, real, and had a price that no daughter had to pay. The elderly billionaire sheik was ready to cover all the debts of the family in exchange for a young bride.

Not a model, not an actress, but well-mannered, modest. A girl from a respected European family. He’s looking for someone like you, the lawyer said, pushing the documents across the table.

Everything looked solid. Gold seals, international stamps, terms in French and Arabic. But behind all this formality, there was an essence that she understood instantly.

She was given away for money. For the sake of business. For the sake of salvation.

For the sake of the future. She protested, cried, screamed, said she would run away, but the decision had already been made. It would be a purely symbolic marriage, my father insisted.

He’s old, he just needs company. She wanted to believe. Everything was processed through international lawyers.

The mediator was a representative from Morocco. The family immediately received financial protection. The debts were stopped, the winery was withdrawn from the auction, but it lost its freedom.

The flight to Marrakech was scheduled for the following Saturday. She left alone on a private jet, not knowing if a new chapter of her life was beginning or ending. The scariest thing came not from the sounds, but from the silence.

The silence of the contract. The silence of parents. And the silence that she carried within her.

Silence? A man who said yes, but in his heart he never wanted to. Upon arrival in Morocco, she was greeted with celebration. Black, armored car, driver without words, luxury hotel.

She has everything at her disposal. But none of this seemed like a gift. It was more like preparation.

Looking out the car window, she saw a lively city, children playing, bright tents, palm trees in the wind. And I thought, how can this world be so carefree while I’m marrying an old man? The evening before the ceremony, already at the Sheikh’s Palace, she heard from the maids. The gentleman is very much looking forward to meeting you.

She froze. Meetings? Which one? More meetings? Isn’t this just a formality? She froze. She thought that everything would be limited to paperwork, but no one guaranteed it to her.

No father, no lawyers, no contract. That night, alone in the room, she realized. She might have to lie down with him, and no one would come to save her.

At dawn, on the day of the wedding, the palace was shrouded in silence. But it was not a calm silence, but an oppressive one. She woke up early, barely sleeping.

The assistants came in with smiles, white dresses in their hands, and soft words that only increased her anxiety. Today is your special day, madam. A great day.

She wanted to laugh or scream. It took almost an hour to change clothes. Silk dress, pearls around her neck, a light fragrance behind her ears.

She barely recognized herself in the mirror. Outwardly, she was a bride, but inside she felt like a commodity. Everything was ready in the ceremony hall.

There were few guests, all in formal suits with cold faces. Ambassadors, lawyers, diplomats. There were no relatives, no one hugged her, no one looked at her as a daughter, as a person.

In the center of the hall was the groom Tariq ibn Rashid. He was dressed in traditional clothes, a dark turban and radiated confidence, strength, and dignity. His eyes lit up when he saw her.

But it wasn’t affection, it was possession. He was satisfied. I am happy that in a couple of hours I will receive what I have been striving for for a long time, a young, immaculate European spouse.

Past wives, all older than him, no longer aroused interest. Tariq was looking for freshness, youth, and submission. She swallowed the hosts of the ceremony, pronounced the official words in Arabic and French.

She answered only as needed, signed documents that she no longer read, accepted a ring, a blessing, and a new status. Now she has officially become a wife. After the ceremony, the sheik approached, bent down and kissed her hand.

She remained motionless, not even blinking. You’re even more beautiful than I was told, he said with a satisfied smile. She felt sick.

Later, toward sunset, she was led through a narrow corridor. They passed through heavy doors, thick curtains, and a silent courtyard. The maid stopped at the gilded door.

This is your wing, Mrs. A. Where is Mr. Tariq? she asked. He will appear later, as required by custom. The door closed, and she, left alone in the lavish room, lay down on a bed she had not chosen, with her heart pounding so fast that it was impossible to fall asleep, thinking only about one thing—would this night really take place? The room was spacious, but cold and too quiet.

The interior was rich but lifeless. Golden furniture, heavy curtains, and a large mirror in front of the bed. Everything seemed designed for demonstration or pressure.