Chapter One Hundred And Fifty One
Three Days Later
The air was thick with grief. The cemetery was silent except for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees, the distant sound of birds chirping-too peaceful for a day like this.
Two graves.
Two names carved into stone.
Martha Rodriguez.
Javier Vargas.
One was my mother. The other was the man I had killed.
Sofia stood beside me, dressed in black, her face unreadable. She hadn't spoken much since I told her we would be burying them together, giving her father the funeral he had been denied. I wasn't sure how she felt about it.
Maybe she didn't know either.
She had barely looked at me since that night in the NICU. Since I had finally let her go.
I glanced down at the caskets. One was polished mahogany, sleek and expensive-exactly what my mother would have wanted. The other was simpler, darker, almost as if it carried the weight of the sins attached to it.
Javier Vargas had died a traitor. A man I had buried in secrecy.
Now, he was finally being laid to rest.
Sofia stepped forward first.
She held a single white rose in her hand, her grip so tight her knuckles turned pale. Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath before she knelt beside her father's grave.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then, her lips parted.
"I hated you," she whispered. Her voice didn't waver, didn't crack. It was steady, certain. "I hated you for the choices you made. For the things you did. For the way you hurt me."
I stiffened, but I stayed quiet.
Sofia's fingers brushed over the headstone. "But I also loved you." Her voice grew quieter. "You were my father. And no matter what you did, no matter how much I wanted to pretend I didn't care… a part of me always did."
Her breath hitched. She swallowed hard, blinking back tears.
"I never got to say goodbye," she whispered.
The wind carried her words away, stealing them before they could settle.
Slowly, she set the white rose against the grave, her fingers lingering for just a second before she stood.
Then, she turned to me.
Her hazel eyes were unreadable. "Thank you," she said softly.
I swallowed.
I didn't deserve her gratitude.
I had been the one to take him from her.
I had been the reason she never got to say goodbye.
I wasn't sure if this made up for it. If it ever could.
But I had done what I could.
I nodded once, then turned to my mother's grave.
There was no speech waiting on my tongue. No words that could possibly sum up what I felt.
Martha Rodriguez had been a force in my life. A woman who had shaped me, who had made me into the man I was.
And yet, in the end, I had been the one to disappoint her the most.
I set a white rose on her casket.
"I'm sorry," I murmured.
The words felt small. Insufficient.
But they were all I had.
Sofia didn't say anything as she slipped her hand into mine.
We stood there together, side by side, in the silence of the cemetery.
Two graves.
Two goodbyes.
The reception was small. Quiet.
After everything that had happened, I didn't want a big gathering. Neither did Sofia.
The funeral home had set up a simple space-dark wood tables, soft candlelight, the scent of fresh flowers lingering in the air. A few people spoke in hushed tones, offering their condolences, but no one lingered too long.
Sofia sat near the corner, staring at nothing in particular. Her hands were folded in her lap, her posture stiff. She had barely touched her food, not that I expected her to.
I stood by the window, watching the world outside.
No one here knew about Martha's birth. That was intentional.
She needed to be safe.
No announcements. No celebrations. No threats.
For now, she was a secret. Ours to protect.
A few people came up to me, speaking words I barely processed. I nodded, murmured a few polite responses, but my mind was elsewhere.
Eventually, the crowd thinned. People left, one by one, until only a handful remained.
Sofia hadn't moved.
I walked over, sinking into the chair beside her. For a long moment, we just sat there in silence.
Then, she let out a quiet breath. "It's over," she whispered.
I glanced at her.
She wasn't crying. Her expression was calm, but there was something in her voice-something final.
"Yeah," I murmured. "It is."
I reached for her, my fingers brushing against hers before I cupped her face gently. She didn't pull away.
Leaning in, I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.
For the first time in a long time, there was no war to fight. No threats lurking in the shadows.
Just us.
She opened her eyes, looking up at me. "What now?"
I held her gaze, my thumb brushing lightly against her cheek before I pulled back.
"Your contract has reached its terms," I said quietly. "You're free to go. Just like you wanted."
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't say anything.
"I told you-after my mom's funeral. And this time, I'm not breaching it."
She blinked, as if processing my words.
"I already got you a house in Manchester," I continued. "Everything you need will be there."
Still, she stayed silent.
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "I also created a bank account for you. There's 700 million in it. For you and Martha. To start your life."
Sofia's brows pulled together, her jaw tightening.
"I don't want the money," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I let out a slow breath, shaking my head. "I'm not doing it for you," I said. "I'm doing it for Martha."
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"She deserves security," I continued. "She deserves a future where she never has to struggle, never has to depend on anyone else to survive."
Sofia's fingers curled into fists in her lap. "I can take care of her."
"I know," I said, my tone calm. "But this isn't just about you taking care of her. It's about making sure she never knows the life we had to live. That she never has to be afraid."
Sofia swallowed hard, looking away.
"You don't have to use it," I added. "You don't have to touch a single cent. But it'll be there. For her. If she ever needs it."
Silence stretched between us.
Finally, she exhaled shakily. "Manchester, huh?"
I nodded. "It's a good place to start over."