Sandra was used to getting what she wanted. She was beautiful, confident, and knew exactly how to charm a man. When she met Javier—a quiet, soft-spoken college student with kind eyes and a heart full of love—she saw an opportunity. Not just for romance, but for more. Javier wasn’t rich, but he was generous, always trying to please her. He’d skip meals to buy her perfume, take side jobs to afford fancy dates, and even talked about getting a second loan just to surprise her with a designer handbag.

She smiled sweetly. She thanked him. But deep down, she wasn’t satisfied.

What Javier didn’t know was that Sandra’s eyes had started wandering the moment she stepped into his house. There she met Alfonso, Javier’s father—a charming, well-dressed, successful businessman who had lost his wife years ago. Alfonso had money, power, and maturity—everything Javier was still struggling to achieve. Sandra flirted. He flirted back. One thing led to another, and before long, she was playing both father and son… and neither of them knew.

Sandra was a master manipulator. With Javier, she was the sweet, innocent girlfriend who dreamed of Paris and cried during romantic movies. With Alfonso, she was bold, sensual, and dangerously confident. She would visit Javier under the pretense of spending time with him, but find ways to bump into Alfonso “accidentally.” A mumbled “I forgot something upstairs,” a shy giggle when he offered her coffee—everything was calculated.

And for a while, it worked.

But no game lasts forever.

The first crack in the facade came one afternoon when Alfonso returned home early from a canceled trip. He overheard Sandra whispering on the phone, saying things like “I miss you,” and “You’ll go crazy when you see me.” The tone, the language—it wasn’t meant for Javier. Alfonso paused. Something didn’t sit right.

He didn’t say a word that day.

Instead, he started watching. Listening. Testing her.

Days later, Sandra made her next move. She visited the house claiming she had a surprise for Javier. While Javier was in the shower, she wandered into Alfonso’s study, pretending she was looking for the bathroom. The flirtation resumed. This time, Alfonso didn’t pull back.

Still, he kept quiet.

Meanwhile, Javier was in love—so deeply in love, he didn’t notice how his girlfriend had started treating him like an errand boy. When she wanted something, she demanded it. When he didn’t deliver, she pouted or ignored him. And when he tried to talk about love and dreams and future plans, she rolled her eyes. But he stayed. He always stayed.

Because Javier had a plan.

He was going to surprise Sandra with the ultimate gesture of love: a tattoo of her last name, inked over his heart.

The night he showed her, she gasped. “Would I cheat on someone who did this for me?” she asked, placing his hand over the inked skin. Javier melted. Again.

But Alfonso had a plan too.

He invited Sandra to his private villa—an estate that once belonged to his late wife. He greeted her with champagne, gave her a tour of the place, and told her she could have anything she wanted. “This is your world now,” he said. “Take anything you like.” Sandra’s eyes sparkled. She twirled in a silk dress worth thousands, picked out a diamond necklace, and kissed Alfonso on the cheek. “You’re the only man who understands me,” she whispered.

What she didn’t know was that Alfonso had hidden cameras in every room. The flirting, the touching, the promises—they were all being recorded.

Days later, Sandra, Alfonso, and Javier had dinner together. It was tense. Javier talked about taking Sandra to the beach for vacation. Sandra mentioned Paris. Alfonso smirked and raised a glass: “To Paris, then. I hear spring is beautiful there.”

Javier looked confused. Sandra didn’t say a word.

Later that evening, Javier overheard her on the phone again—laughing, flirting. He confronted her. She denied everything. But when she revealed the tattoo she had gotten—his surname inked in bold letters—he broke. He hugged her and apologized for doubting her.

But the truth was already out.

Alfonso called her back to the villa. He didn’t shout. He didn’t accuse. He simply played the recordings. Showed her the texts. The videos. Every lie she had spun, every moment she had betrayed his son, was there in plain sight.

Sandra fell to her knees. She cried. She begged. “It was just a game,” she whispered. “I never meant to hurt anyone.”

But Alfonso had had enough.

He cut her off completely. No more money. No more gifts. No more games.

Javier, heartbroken but finally seeing the truth, told Sandra it was over. And when she had nowhere to go—kicked out by her family, ghosted by friends—it was Javier who let her crash on his couch.

“Just for a few days,” he said. “But this doesn’t change anything.”

And it didn’t.

No more fancy dates. No more sweet messages. She slept on the sofa, alone. The only sounds in the house were silence and regret.

Sandra once said she wanted everything or nothing.

In the end, she got exactly what she asked for.

Nothing.