Five minutes after my divorce was final, my dad told me to block every single card—and that same night, my ex-husband tried to spend nearly a million dollars on his mistress and was publicly destroyed.

Diego got paroled after eight years.

Good behavior.

He was forty-five when he got out.

Gray at the temples.

Thin.

Broken.

He called Mom the day he was released.

Asked if he could come home.

Mom said yes.

Of course she did.

She was his mother.

Dad was furious.

Said Diego had lost the right to call himself a Salazar.

Said he wasn’t welcome in the house.

But Mom had made up her mind.

And when Elena made up her mind… even Dad couldn’t stop her.

The family was divided.

Some wanted to forgive him.

Give him a second chance.

Others—like Carlos and my uncles—wanted nothing to do with him.

Said a traitor was a traitor forever.

I was somewhere in the middle.

I didn’t hate Diego anymore.

Hate took too much energy.

I just… didn’t feel anything.

He was a stranger to me now.

A man who’d once been my brother.

But that man was gone.

Killed by his own greed and weakness.

Mom begged me to come to dinner.

To see him.

To talk.

“Just once, mija. For me. He’s been out a month. He’s not the same boy who left. Prison changed him. Broke him. He just wants to apologize. To make amends.”

I looked at Elena.

Three years old now.

Running around the yard with Ethan chasing her.

Laughing.

Innocent.

I didn’t want Diego anywhere near her.

But I also didn’t want to carry this weight forever.

The anger.

The resentment.

The weight of what he’d done.

“Okay,” I said. “One dinner. That’s it. But Ethan comes with me. And if he says one wrong thing… we leave. Immediately.”

Mom cried.

“Thank you, mija. Thank you.”

Dinner was the most awkward of my life.

The whole family was there.

Everyone was quiet.

Watching.

Waiting.

Diego sat at the end of the table.

Head down.

Hands folded.

He looked terrible.

Prison had not been kind to him.

He didn’t look up until I sat down.

When he saw me… his face crumpled.

“Mari,” he whispered.

I said nothing.

Just looked at him.

Ethan sat beside me.

His hand on my thigh.

Supporting me.

Dinner was served.

No one ate much.

Finally, Dad banged his fork on his plate.

“Alright. You wanted to talk, Diego. Talk.”

Diego stood up slowly.

Looked at me.

Then at the whole family.

“I don’t expect any of you to forgive me,” he said. His voice was rough. Unused. “I don’t deserve it. What I did to Mari… to this family… it’s unforgivable. I betrayed my own sister. The girl who used to follow me around. Who thought I hung the moon. I used her trust. Her love. Everything she gave me. And I threw it all away for money. For gambling debts. For nothing.”

Tears streamed down his face.

“I was weak. I was stupid. And I let Michael manipulate me because it was easier than taking responsibility for my own life. I spent eight years in a cell thinking about it. Every single day. Wishing I could go back. Wishing I could change it. But I can’t. All I can do is say I’m sorry. And spend the rest of my life trying to make it right. If you’ll let me.”

He sat down.

No one spoke.

Then he turned to me.

“Mari… I know nothing I can say will ever make up for what I did. I ruined your marriage. Your trust. Your sense of safety. I helped steal from you. Helped destroy your name. And I will regret it until the day I die. I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I’m just asking… for a chance. To be your brother again. If you’ll have me. If not… I understand. I’ll leave and never bother you again.”

The room was silent.

Everyone looked at me.

Waiting.

I thought about everything.

The little boy who’d taught me to ride a bike.

The man who’d stabbed me in the back.

The eight years he’d served.

The broken man sitting in front of me.

I thought of Elena.

Of raising her to know that family was complicated.

That people made mistakes.

Terrible ones.

But that sometimes… just sometimes… redemption was possible.

I stood up.

Walked slowly around the table.

Stood in front of Diego.

He flinched like he expected me to hit him.

Instead, I held out my hand.

“One chance, Diego. That’s all you get. One. If you mess up… if you lie… if you even look at me wrong… I’m done. Forever. No second chances. No excuses. Do you understand?”

He stared at my hand.

Then at me.

Tears pouring down his face.

He nodded.

Couldn’t speak.

He took my hand.

I pulled him into a hug.

He sobbed into my shoulder.

Loud, heaving sobs.

Years of pain and regret pouring out.

I held him.

Not because I’d forgotten.