Guilt rose fast, sharp.
“Because I don’t deserve it,” I said. “Not after what I did. I can’t ask that of her.”
André stood, gathering the documents, then looked at me again with understanding.
“Maybe you can’t ask,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t earn.” His gaze sharpened. “Valentina is strong—but she’s fair. If you truly want it, then show her you’re worth forgiving.”
He left the office quietly.
His words stayed long after the door closed.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe there was a chance—small, fragile—that one day Valentina could see in me the man I wanted to be.
But for now, I knew what I had to do:
Prove it.
Day by day.
Action by action.
Because for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what I wanted.
And I wasn’t going to give up easily.
FORTY-FIVE
VALENTINA FERRARA
I was in the hallway, adjusting a shelf where Clara had left a few books scattered earlier, when I heard the muffled sob coming from her room.
My heart tightened instantly. I was already moving—already preparing to go to her—when another voice, low and gentle, made me stop mid-step.
Enrico.
My first instinct was to go in anyway. To step between him and my daughter like I always did. But something about the softness of his voice—about how calm it was—held me in place.
Slowly, I moved toward the half-open door and looked in.
Enrico was sitting on the edge of Clara’s bed, holding her carefully against his chest, his hand rubbing slow circles along her back. My daughter was crying quietly into his shirt, little hiccuping sobs I couldn’t fully understand.
“It’s okay, princess,” he whispered, tenderness threaded through every word. A tenderness I’d never heard directed at anyone except… me. In a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. “That happens sometimes. It’s going to pass.”
Clara clung tighter, seeking comfort.
Enrico drew in a breath.
And then—so softly I almost thought I imagined it—he started to hum.
The melody was so familiar it stole the air from my lungs.
It was the song he used to hum for me years ago when I was sad or insecure. An old, sweet lullaby—gentle and steady, full of quiet promises I once believed would last forever.
My legs went weak.
I leaned a shoulder discreetly against the wall, overwhelmed by an emotion that hit too hard, too fast.
