Two weeks later, Theo received the final blow from his mother—delivered the only way she knew how.
Not with a scream.
With a document.
Mrs. Reyes requested a private meeting in Theo’s office at Reyes Systems. No board. No counsel. “Just family,” the message read, which made Theo’s mouth tighten like the phrase tasted bitter.
Mira almost didn’t go.
Theo insisted.
“If she’s going to change the rules,” he said, “you should see it.”
In the office, Mrs. Reyes waited near the window, city behind her like a crown.
She held a folder.
Theo didn’t sit. “What is it?”
Mrs. Reyes looked at Mira, then back to Theo. “It is my resignation as board chair.”
Mira’s breath caught.
Theo went very still. “You’re stepping down.”
Mrs. Reyes’s mouth tightened. “I’m not stepping away from the company. I’m stepping away from the lever I used to move you.”
Theo’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”
Mrs. Reyes’s eyes flashed—anger at the vulnerability of the truth. “Because you would have burned it all before you let me keep controlling you. And because…” She looked at Mira again, then away. “Because it appears the woman is not leaving.”
Mira’s chest tightened.
Theo’s voice was low. “This is not how you apologize.”
Mrs. Reyes’s gaze snapped to him. “I do not apologize well.”
Theo didn’t soften. “Try.”
A long silence.
Then Mrs. Reyes exhaled, shoulders lowering a fraction—the first time Mira had ever seen her look older than her jewelry.
“I was wrong,” Mrs. Reyes said quietly. “About her. About you.”
Theo’s jaw flexed once. He didn’t fill the silence. He made her do the work.
Mrs. Reyes continued, voice tight. “I believed love made men weak. It made your father weak. It made him careless. And I paid for his carelessness.”
Theo’s expression tightened—something unspoken there, a history Mira hadn’t demanded.
Mrs. Reyes looked at him, eyes bright. “I didn’t want you paying.”
Theo’s voice softened a fraction. “So you tried to remove love entirely.”
Mrs. Reyes’s mouth tightened. “Yes.”
Mira’s throat ached. There it was: the core wound.
Mrs. Reyes turned to Mira. “I will not pretend I like needing you.”
Mira swallowed. “You don’t need me.”
Mrs. Reyes’s gaze sharpened. “He does.”
Theo’s head turned slightly—warning.
But Mrs. Reyes continued. “He needs someone who will look at him like he’s human, not a machine. He needs someone who won’t use him.”
Mira’s voice was steady. “I won’t.”
Mrs. Reyes studied her, then nodded once.
It wasn’t warmth.
It was acceptance.
Then Mrs. Reyes looked back at Theo. “If you want my blessing, you won’t get it in a poem. You’ll get it in actions.”
She slid the resignation across the desk. “I am letting you lead. Fully. Without my hand on your throat.”
Theo stared at the paper like it might be a trick.
Mrs. Reyes’s mouth tightened. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Theo’s voice was low. “I won’t.”
Mrs. Reyes picked up her purse. Then paused, gaze flicking to Mira again.
“Mira,” she said, stiff. “Dinner next week. At my home. Your parents, if they’re willing. If you want to be family in public, then you should be family in private too.”
Mira’s heart stumbled. That was—huge, in Mrs. Reyes language.
Mira nodded once. “Okay.”
Mrs. Reyes gave a sharp, almost imperceptible nod in return, then left without another word.
When the door shut, Theo stayed still for a long moment.
Mira stepped closer. “Theo.”
Theo looked at her, and the control in his face cracked.
“She let go,” he said quietly, like he didn’t trust the words.
Mira’s throat tightened. “You made her.”
Theo’s gaze held hers. “You made me.”
Mira’s breath caught.
Theo’s hand slid to her waist. “Come here.”
Mira went willingly, letting him pull her close until her body pressed against his and the world narrowed to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Theo’s mouth brushed her forehead. “There’s something I want.”
Mira’s pulse jumped. “What?”
Theo pulled back enough to look at her. His eyes were dark, intent—no boardroom steel now, just a man making a decision.
“A real commitment,” he said.
Mira’s throat tightened. “Theo—”
He exhaled. “Not because of PR. Not because of my mother. Not because Ethan tried to destroy you.”
His thumb brushed her cheekbone. “Because I want you. In my life. In my home. In every future decision.”
Mira’s eyes burned. “Say it.”
Theo’s mouth tightened with emotion he didn’t hide. “Marry me.”
The word landed like a bell.
Mira stared at him, breath stuck.
Theo didn’t rush her. He just held her gaze, steady enough to let her fear speak and die on its own.
Mira whispered, “We started with a contract.”
Theo nodded once. “We end with a vow.”
Mira’s throat tightened until her voice shook. “Yes.”
Theo went still—like the answer hit him physically.
Then his arms tightened around her, and he kissed her like relief, like devotion, like *finally*.
When they broke apart, Mira laughed through tears she didn’t bother hiding.
Theo wiped them with his thumb, gentle. “No more closets.”
Mira’s voice was raw and sure. “No more contracts.”
Theo’s gaze held hers. “No more pretending.”