Rodrigo had always believed the road remembered him.
His horse trotted along the familiar dirt path, hooves tapping rhythm into the dry spring earth. Olive trees bent the same way, fence posts worn smooth by years, dust rising in lazy clouds. This road had shaped him long before ambition, boardrooms, or flights defined his worth.
Valetipa rode beside him, her voice calm, confident. “Once everything finalizes, we’ll need a city that reflects growth. Something visible. Something worthy of us.”
Rodrigo nodded automatically. Agreement had become habit. But his mind was elsewhere. His past felt settled—eight years of marriage, one divorce, a clean exit. No loose ends.
Then his horse slowed, reins heavy in his hands. A pressure hit his ribs—a warning he didn’t yet understand.
And then he saw her.
At first, she was just a figure along the property line, carrying firewood. But when she lifted her head, everything stopped.
Gabriela. Strong, worn by labor and life, yet beneath it all… pregnant.
Rodrigo’s blood ran cold. Dates, silence, the last weeks before divorce—they all aligned. That child was his.
Valetipa’s voice cut through the shock. “Rodrigo?”
He couldn’t answer.
Gabriela’s gaze lowered, one hand instinctively shielding her belly. That gesture—the practiced protection—pierced him deeper than any words.
He dismounted and walked toward her. “Gabriela,” he said.
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