One question from Luca exposed the only person in the room who wanted him dead.

The silence in the clinic lobby seemed to stretch for an eternity, though only seconds had passed. Patients murmured softly in the background, and the hum of the air conditioning provided a steady rhythm to the moment.

Sofía looked down at the platinum ring, then back up at Nicolás.

"You realize what my life is like, don't you?" Sofía asked, her voice calm but searching. "I don't live in a mansion with gold-trimmed ceilings. I work eighty hours a week, I patch up gang members and impoverished mothers, and I sleep in a tiny apartment two blocks from the subway."

"I know," Nicolás replied without hesitation. "And for the first time in my life, that sounds infinitely more real than anything I've ever built."

Sofía let out a soft breath, a mixture of disbelief and deep affection warming her chest. "You're a terrifyingly stubborn man, Nicolás Velasco."

"Only when I know what I want," he said, stepping closer until the space between them vanished. "And I've never been more certain of anything."

He didn't push her. He didn't use his wealth, his power, or his commands. He simply stood there, waiting for her answer, stripping away all the armor of his empire just as she had stripped away the toxic luxury from his son's nursery months ago.

Sofía reached out, picked up the ring from the velvet box, and slid it onto her left ring finger. It fit perfectly.

A cheer erupted from the waiting room—not from them, but from an elderly patient who had been watching the entire exchange unfold with undisguised delight.

Nicolás chuckled, a deep, resonant sound, and gently took Sofía’s hand in his.