The days following our conversation hadn’t been easy. There was still a subtle tension in the air, a delicate reserve between Jorge, Martina, and me that none of us tried to fully hide.
Still, seeing Valentina so relaxed and happy with her parents—watching her genuine smiles throughout those moments—made everything worth it.
I promised myself, quietly, that I would do whatever it took to make sure moments like those became frequent in her life. Valentina deserved that—and so much more.
Now she was leaning back in her seat, gazing absently out the window, lost in her own thoughts. I let her have that space as I drove, savoring the comforting calm of the silence between us.
After a few minutes, she turned to me, breaking the quiet with a soft, sincere voice.
“Enrico, I wanted to thank you for these past few days. I know they weren’t easy for you, and you did everything you could to make my parents feel comfortable. Thank you.”
I glanced at her before returning my focus to the road, smiling at her words.
“You don’t need to thank me for that, Valentina,” I replied calmly. “I’d do it all again as many times as needed if it meant you were happy.”
She fell quiet for a moment, and when I looked at her again, I saw a gentle shine in her eyes and a small smile on her lips.
“Still… thank you,” she repeated softly.
I reached out and took her hand, resting on her leg. She didn’t pull away, immediately intertwining her fingers with mine.
“You never have to thank me for making you happy,” I said quietly. “That’s literally my life’s mission now. Nothing matters more than you and Clara.”
She took a deep breath, squeezing my hand.
“I’m starting to believe that,” she whispered at last, turning her face toward me with a sweet, vulnerable smile. “And that scares me, Enrico.”
I slowed the car slightly, casting her a look full of understanding and affection.
“I know it scares you, love. But I promise I’ll be here every step of the way, holding your hand—just like I am now. You won’t go through this alone. Never again.”
She stayed silent, absorbing my words, her eyes shining. Then she nodded slowly, tightening her grip on my hand.
“I hope you’re telling the truth, Enrico,” she murmured.
I embraced that moment with everything I had, letting the absolute sincerity of my next words settle deep within her.
“You’ll see, Valentina. I’ll spend every single day of the rest of my life proving that I am.”
SIXTY-TWO
VALENTINA FERRARA
I stared at the impressive scale model spread across Enrico’s desk, struck by the richness of its details. Everything looked so real that it was easy to imagine people walking through it, voices and laughter filling the space that would soon become the Clara Ferrara Institute.
“Here,” Enrico began to explain, his voice low and energized as he carefully pointed to the central structure, “this will be the main building. A space dedicated to culture and education—exhibitions, workshops, community courses.”
I couldn’t resist the urge to gently touch the miniature. A smile appeared on my lips before I could stop it.
Construction would begin very soon. The first meeting with the restorer was scheduled for the next day to finalize the remaining details. The institute’s headquarters would be the first building to benefit from the project, and Enrico was determined to make sure everything was perfect from the very beginning.
The restorer he had hired was an international reference. Marcos Albuquerque had restored historic buildings all over theworld. I still couldn’t quite believe how much money and effort Enrico was investing in the ICF.
I knew he’d been working on something over the past few months, ever since stepping down as president of Ferrada Corp, but not for a single second had it crossed my mind that it could be something for Tiradentes.
Something for me.
“This is incredible, Enrico,” I murmured, enchanted, my eyes still roaming over the model. “And what’s this here?” I asked, pointing to a smaller building beside it.
