Mrs. Reyes didn’t call.
She didn’t text.
She did something worse.
She invited them to dinner.
Not at her house. At the Reyes family estate—the place Theo never spoke about without his jaw tightening. Old money disguised as “legacy,” built to remind you that you were a guest in someone else’s history.
Theo looked at the invitation on his phone, expression unreadable.
Mira sat on the edge of the sofa, heart pounding. “Is this… a trap?”
Theo’s mouth flattened. “Yes.”
Mira swallowed. “Then why go?”
Theo turned to her, gaze steady. “Because I’m done being summoned. If she wants a confrontation, she gets it on my terms.”
Mira’s pulse climbed. “What are your terms?”
Theo’s hand slid into her hair, fingers threading gently at the base of her skull. “You stand beside me. The contract is dead. There’s no ‘arrangement’ to negotiate. There’s just us.”
Mira’s throat tightened. “You’re sure?”
Theo’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
—
The estate looked like a polished threat: long drive, iron gates, lights too warm to be comforting. Staff moved silently, trained to observe without acknowledging.
Mrs. Reyes greeted them in a black dress and diamonds that looked like they could cut glass.
She kissed Theo’s cheek with social precision, then looked at Mira as if assessing whether she was still worth the trouble.
“Mira,” she said. “You look composed.”
Mira smiled faintly. “Practice.”
Mrs. Reyes’s eyes narrowed. “Come in.”
Dinner was private—no board members, no friends, no distractions. Just Theo, Mira, Mrs. Reyes, and the quiet hum of power in the walls.
They ate the first course in near silence.
Then Mrs. Reyes set down her fork.
“Theodore,” she said, voice smooth, “you humiliated me.”
Theo didn’t blink. “No. I removed your leverage.”
Mrs. Reyes’s eyes cooled. “You turned the board against family.”
Theo’s voice was even. “I turned the board toward governance.”
Mrs. Reyes’s gaze slid to Mira. “And you,” she murmured, “have encouraged it.”
Mira’s stomach tightened, but her voice stayed calm. “I didn’t encourage Theo to take control of his company. I encouraged him to stop letting fear make choices for him.”
Mrs. Reyes’s mouth curved. “Ah. So you believe you’ve liberated him.”
Theo’s hand found Mira’s under the table, fingers interlacing.
Mira held Mrs. Reyes’s gaze. “I believe he liberated himself.”
Mrs. Reyes leaned back slightly, studying them. “You’re serious,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.
Theo answered. “Yes.”
Mrs. Reyes’s voice cooled. “Then tell me what you want, Theodore.”
Theo’s gaze was steady. “I want you to stop trying to control me through shame.”
Mrs. Reyes’s eyes sharpened. “Shame is a tool.”
Theo’s voice turned flat. “It’s a poison.”
Silence.
Then Mrs. Reyes said quietly, “You don’t understand what I protected you from.”
Theo’s jaw tightened. “I understand that you protected me by suffocating me.”
Mrs. Reyes’s composure flickered for the first time. “I protected you by ensuring you were never weak.”
Mira felt Theo’s fingers tighten around hers.
Theo’s voice was low. “And when I wanted love, you called it weakness.”
Mrs. Reyes’s lips parted, then closed—control snapping back.
“You are a Reyes,” she said. “You do not hand strangers a knife.”
Theo’s gaze didn’t waver. “Mira isn’t a stranger.”
Mrs. Reyes’s eyes cut to Mira. “Then prove it. What do you know about him that isn’t public?”
Mira’s pulse stuttered.
Theo’s thumb brushed her knuckles, slow, steady.
Mira took a breath. “He wakes up before dawn when he can’t sleep. He walks the apartment like he’s mapping exits. He hates being watched while he eats. He reads financial reports like other people read novels. And he looks calmer than he is because he thinks calm is the only way to keep the world from breaking.”
Mrs. Reyes went still.
Mira continued, voice gentler. “And he carries the weight of being your son like it’s a debt he can never pay off.”
Theo’s breath caught. Not loud. Just enough that Mira felt it.
Mrs. Reyes stared at Theo for a long moment, something like grief tightening the skin around her eyes.
Then she looked at Mira again. “And you think you can hold him without breaking him.”
Mira’s voice was quiet. “I’m not holding him. I’m standing with him.”
Mrs. Reyes’s throat worked once—almost a swallow.
Then her voice turned razor sharp again, because softness was dangerous for her. “If you stay, you will be attacked again. Ethan is not the last man who will try to hurt you. There will be others. People who want him controlled, people who resent him, people who will target what he loves.”
Theo’s gaze hardened. “Then they will learn the same lesson Ethan is learning.”
Mrs. Reyes’s eyes flashed. “And what lesson is that?”
Theo’s voice went quiet and lethal. “That they don’t get to touch her.”
Mira’s chest tightened.
Mrs. Reyes looked away, jaw tight, then back. “So you’re choosing her over me.”
Theo didn’t flinch. “I’m choosing myself. And she’s part of that choice.”
Mrs. Reyes’s hands curled on the tablecloth. “If you do this, you may lose family.”
Theo’s answer was a calm knife. “Then I will mourn what you never truly offered.”
Silence fell—heavy, final.
Mrs. Reyes’s eyes glistened, and it looked like rage until it looked like something else: fear of being left behind in a world she’d controlled with iron hands because she didn’t know how to ask for love.
She stood abruptly. “Leave.”
Mira’s heart dropped.
Theo didn’t move. He rose slowly, posture controlled. “No.”
Mrs. Reyes turned toward him, voice sharp. “Theodore.”
Theo stepped closer—not aggressive, but unyielding. “You don’t get to dismiss me like a child anymore.”
Mrs. Reyes’s breath shook once. “I built everything—”
Theo’s voice softened a fraction, and somehow that was more devastating. “I know. And I’m grateful for what you built. But you don’t get to own me because you built the foundation.”
Mrs. Reyes’s composure cracked.
“For years,” she said, voice trembling with anger she couldn’t hide, “I kept you safe by keeping you hard. And now you want to be soft with her. You want to be vulnerable.”
Theo’s gaze held hers. “Yes.”
Mrs. Reyes looked at Mira, then back to Theo. “If she leaves you, you will be destroyed.”
Theo’s mouth tightened. “Then I’ll survive it. Like a grown man.”
That landed like a blow.
Mrs. Reyes’s eyes squeezed shut for a second, then opened again—sharp, tired, human.
She exhaled. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Theo’s brow furrowed. “Do what?”
“Let you go,” she whispered.
The room went still.
Theo didn’t soften completely—he couldn’t—but something eased at the edges of his face.
“I’m not asking you to disappear,” Theo said quietly. “I’m asking you to stop strangling.”
Mrs. Reyes stared at him, then looked at Mira.
“You,” she said, voice low, “will not use him.”
Mira’s voice was steady. “I won’t.”
“And you will not make him small to feel big,” Mrs. Reyes added.
Mira’s throat tightened. “I won’t.”
Mrs. Reyes nodded once, as if accepting terms she hated but could live with.
Then she looked at Theo, eyes bright. “If you break your own company to defend her, I will not forgive you.”
Theo’s answer was calm. “I didn’t break it. I stabilized it.”
A beat.
Mrs. Reyes’s mouth curved—barely. The closest thing to pride.
“Fine,” she said sharply. “Stay for dessert.”
Mira blinked, stunned.
Theo didn’t move right away. He looked at his mother like he didn’t trust the sudden shift.
Mrs. Reyes’s gaze sharpened. “Do not make me repeat myself.”
Theo’s mouth twitched.
He sat.
Mira sat beside him, pulse racing.
Under the table, Theo’s hand found hers, fingers squeezing once—gratitude, relief, disbelief.
Dessert arrived like a truce.
Mrs. Reyes didn’t say “I accept you.”
But she didn’t say “leave” again.
And in Mrs. Reyes’s world, restraint was a form of mercy.