The ballroom was quieter now. The applause had faded, the cameras packed away, and the dignitaries were slowly filtering out — escorted by aides and armed pleasantries.
Mia stood near the edge of the room, staring at her reflection in the tall arched window.
Behind her, soft footsteps approached. Familiar. Unhurried.
"Quite the evening," Diego Veyra said, voice warm as ever.
She didn't turn. "You could've warned me."
"I thought you'd like the surprise," he replied, with a smile she could hear.
She finally faced him.
"I don't like being paraded," she said. Calm. Controlled. But her eyes burned.
Diego tilted his head, hands folded behind his back. "You weren't paraded. You were honored."
She didn't answer.
He stepped closer, brushing a curl from her shoulder the way he had when she was a child. "You looked powerful tonight. Poised. Regal. You made Lina Loas proud."
"Is that what I made?" Her voice was lower now. Dangerous. "Or did I just make your deal with Rica look prettier?"
Diego's smile didn't falter. "It's not just a deal, Mia. It's peace. And peace always needs symbols."
She took a step back. "You used me."
"No," he said softly. "I trusted you. To carry this weight. To stand where only you can stand."
Mia clenched her fist around the ring box. "You decided for me."
"I protected you," he said, a little sharper now — not angry, just edged. "From harder paths. From worse choices. From becoming someone you'd hate."
That stopped her.
Because he meant it. He believed it.
And somehow, that made it worse.
"I'm not a girl anymore," she said quietly.
"You're my daughter," he replied, as if that was answer enough. "And this world… this war-in-peace game we play? It won't stop. But if I can place you in a position of strength — beside someone strong — I will. Again and again."
He stepped forward. Rested his hands gently on her arms. Fatherly. Sincere.
"Lucas is a good man," Diego continued. "And this alliance matters. To both nations. To our future."
She searched his face. There was no cruelty in his eyes. Just calculated love.
And that, more than anything, made her want to scream.
But she didn't.
Because she knew this game too well.
So she tucked the box into her clutch. Smiled faintly.
And let her father kiss her forehead like the good daughter she wasn't sure she could keep being.
---
Later, as she slipped out of the ballroom into the hallway's cool silence, she paused by a wall of faded portraits.
Old generals. Dead heroes.
And one security camera perched high above — blinking red.
She stared at it.
As if it were watching.
As if he were still watching.
Mino.
The ghost of him still lingered in her bones.
She didn't know if it was grief, betrayal, or unfinished anger.
But she knew he was near.
And she hated that part of her still hoped he'd come out of the dark and say it meant something.
Even if it never had.