Chapter 233: Protect Her

Rico's pen stopped and he looked at his mother. He leaned back in his chair. "What about her?"

She held his gaze, her fingers finding each other and twisting together lightly at her front, a gesture she wasn't aware she was making. "About her marriage."

A small frown formed between his brows when he heard her. Was she here to get him to stop the marriage? She knew it was almost impossible for an arranged marriage among families like theirs to be called off once everything had already been agreed upon.

Then what exactly did she want to talk about?

"Speak," he said.

Donna Marta inhaled softly. “I know you may not want to hear this, but I have to say it," she began, her voice careful, “When I was younger, nobody asked me anything.”

Her eyes were lowered, aimed somewhere on the floor between them, somewhere in the past.

“My parents decided who I would marry," she said and a faint smile crossed her face, like she had made peace with something that once broke her. Just a memory wearing the shape of a smile. “They never asked if he was kind. They never asked if I liked him... They only cared whether the alliance made sense.”

Her eyes lifted slowly to Rico’s face. Rico sat still, watching her in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to for a long time.

Donna Marta took a breath. “I accepted it because that was how things were," she muttered and paused for only a second. “That was how things were done. An obligation.”

She paused and Rico watched her closely. Then after a beat of silence, she continued. “But I never wanted that for Sophia.” The words settled into the room and stayed there. "I know it's impossible to want something different for her. But the only way I can protect her is to find a good man for her."

Rico said nothing, but he didn’t look away either.

She smiled at him a little sadly, the way mothers smile when they are saying something that has been sitting inside them far too long.

“I know you’re still angry with me," she said, not reaching for sympathy. Just a plain truth placed on the table between them like something she had already accepted and was no longer afraid to name. “But promise me something.”

Rico didn’t respond, but he was listening.

She continued anyway, because she hadn’t come this far to stop now. “Don’t let Sophia become a victim too.”

The words hung in the air between them, quiet, heavy, and impossible to argue with.

Donna Marta held his gaze for one more moment. Then she nodded to herself, just once, like she had said what she came to say and was making peace with whatever comes next. She stood up and turned toward the door.

Her hand was almost reaching for it when she heard Rico speak. “Mamma," he called from behind her and she stopped and turned back slowly.

Rico was looking at the papers in front of him, not at her. His voice was the same as always, giving nothing away in its tone. “I’m willing to let you in again.”

Donna Marta froze. She blinked several times. For a moment, she simply stood there, not moving, as though she were afraid that if she reacted too quickly or too openly, it would somehow undo what had just been said.

Her eyes widened a fraction, and then something warm broke across her face, rushing in faster than she could stop it, more openly than she probably intended.

“I’m only doing this because of Lyra," Rico added before it could spill, his eyes still on the file. “I want her to be happy because she's going to be part of my life... forever.”

Donna Marta looked at her son. The way he kept his eyes down, and the way he said it, was like a condition. Like something with a clear and logical reason behind it.

She understood that, and she understood him too.

She smiled, a real smile this time. Small and warm, asking for nothing more than what had already been offered.

Then she nodded once. “That’s enough.” With that, she quietly left. The door clicked shut behind her.

Rico kept his eyes on the same page for a long moment after. The words on it didn’t move. He wasn’t really reading it anyway.

But something in the office had shifted. The silence was the same. The desk was the same. The files, the pen, and the dim light were all exactly as they had been.

And yet, the room didn’t feel quite as empty anymore for the first time in years.

It was twelve midnight when Rico retired to his room. He gently pushed the door open, careful not to disturb the sleeping Calla.

The room was dimly lit and quiet. Calla was already asleep beneath the covers, turned slightly to one side with her hair spread loosely across the pillow.

Rico stood there, his gaze on her for a moment, before quietly walking toward the bathroom. The shower didn’t take long.

A few minutes later, he came back out dressed in fresh clothes and moved toward the bed. Carefully, he pulled back the covers and climbed in beside her.

The mattress dipped slightly beneath his weight, and Calla shifted. Her brows moved faintly before she turned unconsciously toward him. Then her hand reached out lazily and settled against him as though she had done it a thousand times before.

Rico looked down at her, and a small smile appeared on his face. Without saying anything, he slipped an arm around her waist and gently pulled her closer.

Calla immediately snuggled into his neck. She let out a sleepy hum and mumbled something against his skin.

Rico chuckled quietly. “I love you too," he said, his eyes softened, fingers moved gently through her hair.

Then he became still. There was something in his chest. Something strange yet very warm.

Looking at her reminded him of everything they had survived together—the highs and lows, heartbreak and pain, and the moments they thought they wouldn’t make it through. And now these quiet nights, soft laughter, and peace.

He looked at her face for a long moment, and suddenly, he couldn’t imagine not waking up beside her. Couldn’t imagine not having her around, or not coming back to this.

His thoughts drifted to the day of the crash, the blood that oozed from his forehead, and the feeling of his body giving up. And through all of it, all he could think about was her.

Not himself, or his unfinished work at the Quintara or I Sette. Just her.

He remembered making himself a promise, that if life gave him another chance... he would make her his forever.

The thought made something flutter strangely inside his chest. Rico frowned slightly. Not because he didn’t understand the feeling, but because he did.

He had pretended not to understand it, but now, he knew exactly what it meant.

Calla shifted again. Her face pressed closer against his neck. “Is it… morning yet?” she mumbled with her eyes still closed.

Rico smiled. “No, my love. Sleep.” He wrapped both arms around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there for a while. Then he closed his eyes too, and he slept without feeling like he had to survive tomorrow.