The Last Breath

The hospital corridors stretched endless, fluorescent lights buzzing like wasps. Valentina ran.

Diego was right behind her, his hand finding hers, pulling her forward when her legs threatened to give out.

“Room 412,” a nurse called. “Hurry.”

She burst through the door.

Her mother lay small and still against the white sheets, tubes and monitors surrounding her like a cage. But her eyes — those fierce, beautiful eyes — were open. Waiting.

“Mija.” The word came out barely above a whisper. “You came.”

“Of course I came.” Valentina fell to her knees beside the bed, grabbing her mother’s hand. So cold. So thin. “Mamá, what’s happening? The doctors said you were stable, they said—”

“Doctors lie to give us hope.” Her mother smiled, the same smile that had guided Valentina through every scraped knee, every heartbreak, every failure. “But I don’t have time for lies anymore.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t you fucking say that.”

“Language, mija.” A weak laugh. “Even now.”

Diego stood in the doorway, tears running down his face. He didn’t move. He knew this moment wasn’t his.

Valentina’s mother beckoned him forward anyway. “Diego. Come here.”

He approached the bed, taking her other hand.

“You love my daughter.”

It wasn’t a question. He nodded, unable to speak.

“Good.” Her grip tightened on both of them. “Then listen. Both of you.”

---

The machines beeped their steady rhythm. Outside, Mexico City hummed with ten million lives unaware that one was ending.

“Your father,” her mother began, and Valentina’s chest seized. “Don Rodrigo told you what happened. The accident. The cover-up.”

“Mamá, we don’t have to—”

“We do.” Her mother’s voice found strength from somewhere. “Because there’s more. Something Rodrigo doesn’t know. Something I never told anyone.”

Valentina leaned closer. The antiseptic smell burned her nose. Or maybe those were tears.

“Your father knew.”

“What?”

“He knew about the safety violations. He reported them. A month before the accident.” Her mother’s eyes filled with ancient grief. “He went to Don Aurelio directly. Begged him to fix the trucks. Aurelio promised he would. He lied.”

The words hit Valentina like a physical blow. “Don Aurelio? Not Don Rodrigo?”

“Rodrigo covered it up to protect his partner. His friend. But Aurelio—” her mother coughed, weak and wet. “Aurelio is the one who killed your father. And he’s never paid for it.”

Diego’s hand tightened on Valentina’s shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Valentina’s voice was ragged. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because I was afraid. Because we needed the money Rodrigo sent. Because I was a coward.” Tears slid down her mother’s temples. “I’ve been a coward my whole life, mija. But you’re not. You never were.”

She pulled Valentina closer, her lips near her daughter’s ear.

“Don’t let him get away with it. Your father deserves justice. You both do.”

Valentina was crying too hard to answer. She held her mother, feeling the fragile bones, the paper-thin skin, the life ebbing away.

“One more thing.” Her mother’s voice was fading. “Look at me.”

Valentina looked.

“This boy loves you.” She tilted her head toward Diego. “The real kind. The kind that stays. Don’t be afraid of it.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are. You’ve always been afraid of being loved. Because you think you don’t deserve it.” Her mother’s hand found Valentina’s face. “You do, mija. You deserve everything.”

The monitors began to slow.

“Mamá—”

“Your father is waiting for me. I can see him.” A smile, peaceful now. “He’s so proud of you, Vale. So proud.”

“No. No, please. Not yet. Please, Mamá—”

“Te amo, mi corazón. Para siempre.”

The hand in hers went slack.

The monitor flatlined.

And Valentina screamed.

The Question

Three hours later.

The hospital corridor was empty. Dawn was breaking over Mexico City, painting everything in shades of gold and grief.

Valentina sat against the wall, legs pulled up, face buried in her arms. She hadn’t moved since the nurses took her mother’s body.

Diego sat beside her. Not speaking. Just there.

Finally, she lifted her head. Her eyes were red, swollen, but something had shifted in them. Something fierce.

“She told me Don Aurelio killed my father.”

Diego’s jaw tightened. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out.”

Silence.

Then: “Whatever you decide, I’m with you. Always.”

She looked at him. Really looked. This man who had paid for her mother’s surgery without telling her. Who had held her through every breakdown. Who had loved her silently for years, asking nothing in return. Who was sitting beside her in a hospital corridor at dawn like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And she saw it — what she’d been too blind to see for years. The way his eyes tracked her when she entered a room. The slight hitch in his breath when she stood too close. The careful distance he maintained, like he was afraid if he touched her once, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Diego…” Her voice came out softer than intended.

“I know this is the worst possible time.” He shifted, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of her, and her heart slammed against her ribs. “I know you’re grieving. I know the world is falling apart. But I need to say this before I lose my nerve.”

“Diego, what are you—”

“I’ve loved you since we were fifteen years old.” His voice cracked. “Since that day you beat up Carlos Medina for calling me a faggot. Since you held my hand at my grandmother’s funeral and didn’t let go for three hours.”

He reached out, his fingers trembling as they traced the tear tracks on her face. Such a simple touch, but it sent electricity through her entire body. How had she never noticed? How had she spent fifteen years being touched by this man — casual, friendly contact — and never felt the current beneath it?

“I’ve loved you through everything,” he continued, and now both hands were framing her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones with a tenderness that made her breath catch. “Your scholarship, MIT, coming home, everything. I’ve loved you through every date you went on with other men. Every time you cried over some asshole who didn’t deserve you. Every time you came back to me for comfort and I had to pretend that holding you wasn’t killing me because I knew I’d never get to hold you the way I wanted to.”

“Diego—”

“Do you know what torture it’s been?” His eyes were wet now, his voice rough with years of restraint finally breaking. “Watching you walk into rooms and wanting to pull you into my arms. Listening to you laugh and wanting to taste it on your lips. Having you fall asleep on my couch during movie nights and lying there wide awake because all I could think about was carrying you to bed and finally — finally — showing you what it’s like to be loved by someone who’s been waiting his whole life for permission to touch you.”

Valentina couldn’t breathe. Her heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you didn’t see me that way. Because I was your friend. Your safe place. And I’d rather be that than nothing at all.” He pulled in a shaky breath. “But I can’t — I can’t watch you go through this alone anymore. I can’t stand beside you and pretend I don’t want to be the one who catches you when you fall. The one who holds you through the night. The one who gets to wake up next to you and know that you’re mine.”

His forehead pressed against hers, and she could feel him shaking.

“I’ve loved you through everything. And I’ll love you through whatever comes next.”

He reached into his pocket.

A ring. Simple. A single diamond. His grandmother’s, she realized.

“Valentina Reyes.” Tears streamed down his face. “Will you marry me?”

She stared at the ring. At his face. At this moment that was too much and not enough and everything all at once.

Her mother’s words echoed in her mind: This boy loves you. The real kind. The kind that stays.

“My mother just died. I just found out who really killed my father. Bruno’s gone but everything’s still fucked. And you’re proposing to me in a hospital corridor at 6 AM?”

“Yes.”

“You’re insane.”

“Probably.”

“We haven’t even been on a real date.”

“I’ve been waiting fifteen years, Vale. I’m done waiting.”

She laughed. It came out like a sob. “What the hell kind of proposal is this?”

“The kind where I mean every word.” He took her hand — and the contact sent heat racing up her arm — slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. “Say yes. Say yes and let me take care of you for once. Let me be the one who catches you when you fall.”

She looked at the ring. At him. At the corridor where her mother had just taken her last breath.

And she thought about fifteen years of having him beside her. Of never noticing the way his eyes lingered. Of never feeling the want beneath every careful touch.

Don’t be afraid of being loved.

“Yes.”

Diego froze. “What?”

“Yes, you idiot. I’ll marry you.”

For one heartbeat, neither moved. Then he grabbed her, pulled her to him, kissed her with fifteen years of longing behind it — and Valentina understood for the first time what she’d been missing. His mouth on hers was desperate, hungry, reverent all at once. His hands were in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, and she opened for him with a gasp because this — this heat, this need, this feeling of being consumed — she’d never felt it before. Not like this.

They kissed like people starving. Like drowning. Like fifteen years of wanting had finally been given permission to exist.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Diego pressed his forehead to hers. His hands were still shaking as they cupped her face.

“I want you,” he whispered, and the rawness in his voice made her stomach tighten with answering heat. “God, Vale, I want you so much I can barely think straight. But not here. Not now. Not when you’re grieving and exhausted and—”

“Diego.”

“What?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

He did. And this time when his hands moved over her — one sliding into her hair, the other spanning her waist, pulling her closer — she felt the years of restraint in every touch. Felt how much he’d been holding back. How much he wanted to take.

They cried into each other’s mouths. Laughed between kisses. Held on like the world was ending.

It kind of was. But something new was beginning too.

Something that had been waiting fifteen years to start.

The Answer

The same morning.

Mari’s apartment. Sebastián had slept on the couch — again. He was up before dawn, making coffee, trying to look like a man who deserved a second chance.

She found him there, staring at the wall.

“We need to talk.”

He turned. His eyes were bloodshot. He’d barely slept in days. “I know. I’ve been waiting.”

Mari sat across from him at the small kitchen table. She was still in her robe, her hair pulled back, no makeup. Exhausted. Beautiful. Terrifying.

“I’ve thought about everything you said. About staying. About changing. About wanting to be a father.”

“And?”

She took a breath. “I believe you.”

Hope flooded his face. “Mari—”

“I’m not finished.” Her voice was steel. “I believe you mean it. Right now, in this moment, you mean every word. But I’ve been with men who meant it before. My ex-husband meant it. My daughter’s father meant it. They all meant it until they didn’t.”

Sebastián flinched like she’d slapped him.

“So here’s what’s going to happen.” She leaned forward. “You’re going to prove it. Not with words. With time. With consistency. With being here every single day, even when it’s boring, even when I’m a hormonal nightmare, even when the baby screams at 3 AM and you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“I will. I swear—”

“I’m not done.” Her eyes were fierce. “You came here to steal from us. You lied to my face while you fucked me. You looked me in the eyes and said you loved me while you were selling us out.”

“I stopped. I chose you.”

“You chose us after you got caught. That’s not the same thing.” She stood, paced to the window. “My daughter already lost one father. I won’t let her lose another. So if you’re in, you’re in. No halfway. No quitting when it gets hard. No running back to San Francisco or wherever the fuck you came from.”

“I won’t run.”

“You’d better not.” She turned to face him. “Because if you break my heart again, Sebastián Torres, I will destroy you. And I mean that literally. I have friends. Developer friends. The kind who can make your life a living hell in ways you can’t even imagine.”

He almost smiled. “You’re threatening me?”

“I’m warning you.” She walked back to the table, stood in front of him. “One chance. That’s all you get. One.”

“One is all I need.”

She studied his face for a long moment. Then: “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll marry you.” The words came out hard, defensive, scared. “But not because of some romantic bullshit. Because my kid deserves a father and you’re here. That’s it.”

Sebastián stood slowly. “Mari…”

“If you cry, I’m taking it back.”

He laughed, and it was wet and broken. “I can’t promise that.”

“Goddammit.” But she was smiling too, just a little. “Come here.”

He wrapped his arms around her. She let herself be held.

“I’m going to prove it,” he whispered into her hair. “Every day. For the rest of our lives.”

“You’d better.”

The Goodbye

The same afternoon.

Stefan’s hotel room was stark, efficient, German in its minimalism. He sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, staring at a text message.

Papa, call me. It’s urgent.

His daughter. Sixteen years old. Barely spoke to him anymore. She never said “urgent.”

His hands trembled as he dialed.

“Papa?” Her voice. Scared. “Are you there?”

“I’m here, Liebling. What’s wrong?”

Silence. Then: “Mama’s in the hospital.”

Stefan’s blood turned to ice. “What happened?”

“They don’t know yet. She collapsed at work. They’re running tests but—” Her voice broke. “Papa, I’m scared. I don’t have anyone else. Can you come home?”

He was already standing, already reaching for his bag. “I’m coming. I’ll be on the next flight.”

“Really?”

The hope in her voice destroyed him. How long had it been since she believed he would come when she needed him?

“Really, Liebling. I’ll be there by morning.”

“Papa?” A pause. “I love you.”

When had she last said that? Two years? Three?

“I love you too, Sophie. More than anything.”

He hung up. Began throwing clothes into a bag. His mind raced — flights, logistics, the SaaS launch coming up, the team that needed him—

No.

His daughter needed him. His ex-wife was in the hospital. Nothing else mattered.

He picked up his phone again, dialed Valentina.

---

The call went to voicemail. Of course — she was at the hospital with her mother.

He tried Diego instead.

“Stefan?” Diego’s voice was rough, exhausted. “We’re at the hospital. Vale’s mother… she’s gone.”

Stefan closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Diego. Please tell her—”

“I know. I’ll tell her.” A pause. “What do you need?”

“I have to go back to Germany. My daughter called. My ex-wife is in the hospital. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Shit. Of course. Go.”

“The SaaS launch—”

“We’ll handle it. You’ve given us everything we need. Go be with your family, Stefan.”

Family. The word hit him like a blow.

“Thank you, Diego. For everything.”

“No. Thank you.” Diego’s voice cracked. “You saved us. All of us. Now go save them.”

Stefan hung up. Finished packing. Headed for the door.

At the threshold, he paused. Looked back at the room where he’d spent three months. At the city that had given him back something he’d lost: purpose. Connection. Hope.

He would come back. Somehow. To see them launch. To see Valentina and Diego marry. To see what this crazy family of misfits built together.

But first, he had to go home.

He closed the door behind him.

The Funeral

Three days later.

The cemetery sat on a hill overlooking Mexico City. The sky was heavy, threatening rain. It felt appropriate.

The entire LogiMex team stood around the grave. Valentina, in black, leaned into Diego. Mari stood beside her, holding her hand. Camila was there. Sebastián. Héctor, sober and steady. Mando, solid as a rock. Rafa, his face carved from grief he understood too well.

And Don Rodrigo.

He stood at the head of the grave, looking down at the coffin. The man who had covered up the truth about Valentina’s father. Who had carried that guilt for twenty years.

When he spoke, his voice was rough.

“I didn’t know Rosa Reyes as well as I should have. I kept my distance, because seeing her reminded me of my own failures.” He looked at Valentina. “Her husband — your father — was one of the best men I ever knew. And I failed him.”

Murmurs. Confused looks. But Valentina just watched, her face unreadable.

“Rosa raised her daughter alone. In poverty. With nothing but her own strength and a faith I never understood. And look at what she built.” He gestured at Valentina. “A woman who could challenge a Brazilian snake and win. Who could save a company full of stubborn old men who were too proud to ask for help.”

His voice broke.

“Rosa Reyes was stronger than any of us. She raised a daughter who could move mountains. That’s the only legacy that matters.”

He stepped back.

Valentina released Diego’s hand. Walked to the grave. Looked down at the coffin.

“My mother taught me that anger is a kind of fuel. That you can burn it to move forward, or you can let it burn you up.” Her voice was steady, but tears streamed down her face. “I’ve been angry for a long time. At the world. At the people who hurt my family. At myself.”

She placed a single white rose on the coffin.

“But she also taught me that love is stronger. That family isn’t just blood — it’s the people who show up. Who stay. Who fight for you even when you’re too broken to fight for yourself.”

She looked around at the faces surrounding her. Her team. Her family.

“These people showed up. They stayed. They fought.” She wiped her eyes. “So I’m done being angry. I’m going to build something instead. Something she would be proud of.”

She stepped back into Diego’s arms.

The first drops of rain began to fall.

The Celebration

Two weeks later.

The LogiMex rooftop had been transformed. Lights strung everywhere. Music playing — cumbia, of course. The smell of tacos from a cart someone had convinced to come up six floors.

The mood was impossible: grief and joy tangled together, neither quite winning.

Valentina stood with Diego, Mari, and Sebastián in a corner, away from the main crowd. She was holding up her hand, showing off the ring.

“It’s beautiful,” Mari said. “His grandmother’s?”

“His grandmother’s.” Valentina looked at Diego, who was blushing. “He proposed in a hospital corridor at 6 AM while I was crying my eyes out.”

“Romantic,” Camila said, joining them with a drink in each hand.

“Shut up.” But Valentina was smiling.

“And you?” Mari turned to Sebastián. “Tell them.”

He looked terrified. “She’s going to kill me if I say it wrong.”

“Probably.”

“She said yes.” He exhaled. “She actually said yes.”

“Congratulations.” Valentina hugged him. Held on longer than expected. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I won’t.”

“You’d better not. She’s my best friend.”

“I know.” He pulled back, met her eyes. “I know exactly what she’s worth. That’s why I stayed.”

Across the rooftop, Héctor was holding a cup of sparkling water, deep in conversation with Mando.

“Forty-five days sober,” he said quietly. “Longest streak in twenty years.”

Mando clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, brother.”

“Don’t be. Not yet. I’ve got a long way to go.”

“We’ll go together.”

Rafa stood at the edge of the rooftop, looking out at the city. Camila approached him carefully.

“You okay?”

“My son would be thirty-two this year.” He didn’t turn. “He would have loved this. The SaaS. The team. All of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He finally looked at her. His eyes were wet, but his voice was steady. “He’s here. In the code. In the data. Every number I track, I track for him.”

Camila didn’t know what to say. So she just stood beside him, looking at the city too.

---

Don Rodrigo arrived late. He looked older than before, the weight of everything showing on his face. Patricio was with him, Luciana on his arm, her belly just beginning to show.

“A toast,” Don Rodrigo called, raising a glass. “To the team that saved this company.”

“To the team,” everyone echoed.

“To the ones who stayed.” His eyes found Valentina. “And the ones who came back.”

She raised her glass to him. A truce, not forgiveness. But it was something.

The music swelled. Diego pulled Valentina onto the makeshift dance floor. Sebastián spun Mari around, making her laugh for the first time in days. Camila danced with Mando, who was surprisingly good.

For one perfect moment, everything was exactly as it should be.

Then Don Aurelio arrived.

The Bomb

The rancher stood in the doorway, his weathered face grim. He wore his best suit — the one he only wore for funerals and boardrooms.

The music didn’t stop, but something in the air changed. People felt it before they saw it.

Don Rodrigo set down his glass.

“Aurelio. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know.” The rancher stepped onto the rooftop. His boots were loud on the concrete. “But we need to talk. Now.”

Valentina felt Diego’s hand tighten on her waist. She remembered her mother’s words. Aurelio is the one who killed your father.

“What is it?” Don Rodrigo’s voice was careful. “What’s happened?”

Don Aurelio looked around at the celebration. At the team. At Valentina, whose eyes were burning into him.

“Not here. In private.”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of my people.”

The rancher’s jaw tightened. “Fine. If that’s how you want it.”

He reached into his jacket. Pulled out a folder. Tossed it onto the nearest table.

“I’m selling my share of TransMex.”

The words hit like a bomb.

Don Rodrigo went pale. “You can’t—”

“I can. And I am.” Don Aurelio’s voice was flat. “I’m too old for this shit, Rodrigo. The technology, the modernization, the drama — I’m done. I want out.”

“To whom?” Patricio stepped forward, his face tight. “Who’s buying?”

Don Aurelio met his eyes. Held them.

“Grupo Maximiliano.”

The silence was absolute.

Valentina didn’t know the name, but she could tell from Don Rodrigo’s face that it was bad. Very bad.

“They’re a conglomerate,” Patricio said, his voice shaking. “They’ve been trying to buy us for years. If they get TransMex—”

“They get the building,” Don Rodrigo finished. “The logistics network. The clients. Everything.”

“That’s right.” Don Aurelio’s face was stone. “They want to absorb LogiMex completely. Eliminate the competition. Your SaaS, your team, your legacy — it’s all gone.”

“Why?” Valentina stepped forward. Her voice was cold. “Why would you do this to us?”

Don Aurelio looked at her. Something flickered in his eyes — guilt, maybe. Or fear.

“Because they made me an offer I can’t refuse. My ranch is failing. The drought. The trade deals. I’m bleeding money, and they’re offering enough to save everything.”

“So you’d destroy us to save yourself?”

“I’d do what I have to do to protect my family.” His voice hardened. “Same as you would.”

Valentina wanted to scream at him. Wanted to tell everyone what her mother had told her. Wanted to watch him burn.

But Diego’s hand found hers. Squeezed.

Not yet, that squeeze said. Not here.

Don Rodrigo stepped between them. His voice was dangerously calm.

“How long do we have?”

“The deal closes in six weeks. Unless you can match their offer.” Don Aurelio laughed, bitter. “Which we both know you can’t.”

“Maybe not match it. But we can prove LogiMex is worth more alive than dead. If the SaaS launches successfully—”

“Then maybe they’ll keep you around as a subsidiary. Maybe.” The rancher shrugged. “That’s not my problem anymore.”

He turned to leave.

“Aurelio.” Don Rodrigo’s voice stopped him. “We were partners for forty years. Friends. Compadres.”

Don Aurelio didn’t turn around.

“That was before the world changed, Rodrigo. Before everything got so… complicated.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

He walked out.

The celebration was over.

The Reckoning

Midnight.

Don Rodrigo’s office was dark except for a single lamp. He sat behind his desk, staring at the folder Don Aurelio had left. The numbers were damning. The timeline was impossible.

Valentina and Diego appeared in the doorway.

“We need to talk,” she said.

Don Rodrigo looked up. Exhaustion carved lines into his face. “If this is about the sale—”

“It’s about my father.”

Silence.

“My mother told me. Before she died.” Valentina entered the office, Diego behind her. “She told me Aurelio was the one who cut the safety budget. That my father reported the violations. That Aurelio promised to fix them and didn’t.”

Don Rodrigo’s face crumbled. “Vale—”

“You covered for him. All these years. You let me think it was just an accident, just bad luck, when you knew someone was responsible.”

“I was trying to protect you. And your mother.”

“Bullshit.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “You were trying to protect yourself. Your partnership. Your precious fucking company.”

“That’s not—”

“My father DIED because Aurelio was too cheap to fix a brake line!” She slammed her hands on his desk. “And you helped him get away with it!”

Diego put a hand on her shoulder. Steady. Present.

Don Rodrigo stood slowly. Walked to the window. Mexico City glittered below, ten million lights like fallen stars.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “I helped him cover it up. I told myself it was to protect the company. To protect the jobs of everyone who worked here. But the truth is—” his voice broke. “The truth is I was afraid. Aurelio had evidence of things I’d done too. Shortcuts. Compromises. We were both guilty. And we kept each other’s secrets.”

“So you’re as bad as he is.”

“Maybe.” He turned to face her. His eyes were wet. “But I’ve tried to make amends. The money I sent your family. The job I gave you. The chances—”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“No. It doesn’t.” He walked back to his desk. Sat down heavily. “What do you want me to do? Tell the police? It’s been twenty years. There’s no evidence. Aurelio’s lawyers would bury us.”

Valentina stared at him. The rage was still there, burning in her chest. But something else was there too. Something her mother had planted.

Don’t let him get away with it.

“I want his share of TransMex.”

Don Rodrigo blinked. “What?”

“The sale to Grupo Maximiliano. We’re going to stop it.” She leaned forward. “And when we do, when we prove LogiMex is worth more than his shitty deal, we’re going to force him out. Completely. No golden parachute. No honorable exit. He leaves with nothing.”

“That’s… ambitious.”

“The SaaS launches in three weeks. We make it the biggest success in Mexican tech history. We bring in so much investment that Grupo Maximiliano looks like a bad joke. And then we make Aurelio watch as everything he tried to destroy thrives without him.”

Don Rodrigo stared at her. Something shifted in his expression. Respect, maybe. Or hope.

“You really think we can do that?”

“I don’t think. I know.” She straightened. “But I need your help. Full access to the TransMex books. Every secret Aurelio’s been hiding. Every piece of leverage we can find.”

“That could destroy both of us.”

“I’m willing to take that risk. Are you?”

A long pause.

Then Don Rodrigo nodded.

“Yes. For your father. For everything I should have done twenty years ago.” He opened a drawer, pulled out a key. “The archives are in the basement. Everything’s there.”

Valentina took the key.

“We start tonight.”

The Call to Arms

The next morning.

The conference room was full. Every member of the team, exhausted but alert, crowded around the table. Coffee cups everywhere. Laptops open. Energy buzzing.

Valentina stood at the head of the table. Diego beside her, as always.

“I’m going to be straight with you,” she said. “We’re fucked.”

No one laughed.

“Don Aurelio is selling his share of TransMex to Grupo Maximiliano. If that sale goes through, they get the building, the logistics network, and enough leverage to shut us down. The SaaS, everything we’ve built — gone.”

“How long do we have?” Mando asked.

“Six weeks.”

“Shit,” someone muttered.

“But we’re not going to let that happen.” Valentina’s voice hardened. “We launch the SaaS in three weeks. Not in beta. Not in limited release. Full production. All markets. Every feature.”

“That’s impossible,” Rafa said. “We’re not ready.”

“Then we get ready.” She looked around the table. “I know what I’m asking. I know we just survived Bruno. I know some of you are grieving. Hell, I just buried my mother.” Her voice caught, but she pushed through. “But this is it. This is what we’ve been fighting for. Not just the software. The company. The family. Everything.”

Héctor stood slowly. “I’ve been with this company for twenty-five years. I’m not letting some corporate vultures take it now. Count me in.”

Mando nodded. “Same.”

Rafa: “Same.”

One by one, the whole room. Mari. Sebastián. Camila. Everyone.

Valentina felt tears threatening, but she pushed them down.

“Alright then.” She slapped the table. “Three weeks to save everything. Let’s get to work.”

The room exploded into motion. Laptops opening. Keyboards clacking. Whiteboards being filled with plans.

Diego pulled Valentina aside.

“That was one hell of a speech.”

“I meant every word.”

He kissed her forehead. “I know. That’s why I love you.”

She leaned into him for one moment. One breath.

Then she straightened.

“Come on. We’ve got a company to save.”

---

Hours later, Valentina’s apartment.

She unlocked the door with shaking hands. It had been thirty-six hours since her mother died. Twenty-four hours since Diego proposed. Eighteen hours since she’d slept.

Diego followed her inside, closing the door quietly behind them.

“You should sleep,” he said.

“I should.” She set her keys down, kicked off her shoes. “But every time I close my eyes, I see her face. Hear her last words.”

“Vale—”

“I’m not okay, Diego.” She turned to face him, and the wall she’d been holding up all day finally cracked. “My mother is dead. My father was murdered. The man I’ve trusted for years helped cover it up. And I’m supposed to save a company in three weeks when I can barely hold myself together.”

He crossed the room in three strides, pulled her against his chest. She broke.

They stood there in her darkened living room, Valentina sobbing into Diego’s shirt while he held her and murmured words she couldn’t hear over her own grief.

When the storm finally passed, she pulled back. Looked up at him.

“Stay.”

“Of course I’ll stay. I’ll sleep on the couch, keep you company—”

“No.” She took his hand, placed it over her heart. He could feel it racing. “Stay with me. In my bed. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Diego’s breath caught. “Vale, you’re grieving. You’re not thinking clearly. I’m not going to take advantage—”

“Shut up.” She pulled him toward the bedroom. “I’m thinking more clearly than I have in years. My mother’s last words to me were about you. About not being afraid to be loved. About this being the real kind. The kind that stays.”

She stopped at the threshold of her bedroom, turned to face him.

“I’ve been afraid my whole life, Diego. Afraid to need anyone. Afraid to let anyone in because everyone leaves. My father died. My mother worked herself to death. MIT was supposed to be my escape, but I was alone there too. And you—” Her voice broke. “You’ve been here the whole time. Waiting. Loving me. And I was too scared to see it.”

“You see it now.”

“I do.” She reached up, cupped his face in her hands. “And I’m done being afraid.”

She kissed him, and this time it was different. Slower. Deeper. Not the desperate kiss of the hospital corridor, but something deliberate. Intentional. A choice.

Diego made a sound low in his throat, his hands coming up to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She could feel his heart pounding, feel the barely restrained want in the way his fingers gripped her.

“Vale,” he breathed against her mouth. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

She led him to the bed, and they sank onto it together. His hands were trembling as they traced her face, her throat, the line of her shoulder. Fifteen years of wanting in every touch.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he whispered. “About you. About finally being allowed to touch you the way I’ve wanted to.”

“Then touch me.” She pulled her shirt over her head, watched his eyes darken. “Show me what fifteen years of wanting looks like.”

What followed was slow and tender and almost unbearably sweet. Diego touched her like she was precious. Like every inch of skin revealed was a gift he’d been waiting his whole life to receive. He kissed the tears on her cheeks, the pulse point at her throat, the curve of her shoulder.

When he finally moved over her, when she pulled him close and whispered “yes” against his lips, when they joined together for the first time — it felt like coming home to a place she’d never known existed.

They moved together slowly, savoring every moment. Every sigh. Every whispered word.

Diego buried his face in her neck, and she felt him shaking. “I love you,” he breathed. “God, Vale, I love you so much.”

“I know.” She held him tighter. “I’m starting to understand that I love you too.”

Afterward, they lay tangled together, her head on his chest, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare shoulder.

“I’ve wanted to do that for fifteen years,” he murmured.

“Was it worth the wait?”

“Every second.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Though I plan on making up for lost time.”

She laughed, soft and warm in the darkness. For the first time since her mother died, she felt something other than grief.

She felt hope.

“Diego?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you. For waiting. For loving me when I couldn’t love you back. For being patient enough to let me find my way to you.”

“I’d wait fifteen more years if that’s what it took.” He pulled her closer. “But I’m glad I don’t have to.”

She fell asleep like that — safe in the arms of a man who’d spent half his life loving her from afar and would spend the rest of it loving her up close.

In the morning, there would be work to do. Companies to save. Justice to pursue. But tonight, in the darkness of her bedroom, Valentina Reyes finally let herself be loved.

And it felt like the beginning of everything.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Inspired by real patterns in software delivery transformations, but all specific characters and situations are invented.