You arrange a full scholarship, anonymous at first, because you refuse to make her gratitude a performance.
Then you throw Patricia out, calmly, firmly, legally, because you’re done letting convenience pretend it’s family.
You tell her Sofía can see her, but she will never live in that house again.
Patricia leaves with threats on her tongue, but you don’t tremble.
Because fear isn’t the strongest thing in you anymore.
Loss is.
Love is.
And love, you’re learning, is not soft.
It’s a decision you make with your whole life.
The press conference feels like stepping into fire on purpose.
Cameras flash, reporters buzz, and the world expects stock updates and damage control.
You give them none of that.
You say the word they don’t expect: “Love.”
You say Marina’s name out loud, in public, with no apology in your mouth.
You credit her for your recovery and confess the worst part—your hesitation, your fear, your failure.
Then you look straight into the camera like it’s a door to her heart.
You drop to one knee in front of a nation that’s never seen you beg for anything.
And you ask her to marry you, not as a billionaire, but as a man finally brave enough to be seen.