Chapter Eleven : Between Two Worlds

Skyla's pov

Everything in this house is too perfect too precise. A house built by a man who doesn’t let things slip. Nothing feels warm, and I wonder if it ever has.

I sink into the plush armchair by the window, curling my knees to my chest. My wedding dress feels like a distant memory, but the ache behind my ribs lingers. I should be relieved that Alonso didn’t try to kiss me during the ceremony. But somehow, that cold brush of his lips against my cheek stung more.

What did I expect? Passion? Tenderness?

I let out a bitter laugh.

No, this is a business arrangement. Nothing more. And yet, a small, foolish part of me keeps wondering if there’s something beneath that polished, unreadable exterior. If there’s a man capable of softness.

I shouldn’t care.

But I do.

A faint sound drifts from upstairs ,Alejandro’s laughter, light and airy. It’s the first warm thing I’ve felt in this house since I arrived. A reminder that this marriage isn’t just about Alonso and me. There’s a child caught in the middle of it all.

I try not to think about how much he’s already lost.

My phone buzzes in my hand, pulling me back from the edge of my thoughts. I glance down at the screen. Emma.

A breath escapes me,a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I swipe to answer.

“Hey,” I murmur, grateful for the familiar warmth of her voice.

“Hey, Mrs. Ignacio,” she teases, though the softness in her tone tells me she’s not here to poke fun. “How are you holding up?”

I close my eyes for a beat, letting her words wrap around me like a comfort I didn’t know I needed. "I don't know. It's... a lot."

"I figured," Emma says, and there’s no judgment in her voice, just quiet understanding. "What’s he like? The real him, not the polished billionaire version."

I hesitate, my gaze drifting toward the empty doorway. Alonso left an hour ago, disappearing into the study with barely a word. He’s been distant since the moment we arrived, an enigma I can’t quite unravel.

"Distant," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Guarded. He’s not cruel, but… he doesn’t let me in."

Emma hums softly on the other end, her silence stretching long enough for me to feel the weight of my words. "That doesn’t surprise me," she says at last. "Guys like him "

"Don’t let people close," I finish, exhaling a dry laugh. "Yeah, I’m starting to get that."

A part of me wants to tell her everything, the way his touch lingers just a moment too long, the way his gaze burns when he thinks I’m not watching. But those aren’t the kinds of things you can explain over the phone. Not when you don’t even understand them yourself.

"And Alejandro?" Emma asks gently.

At the mention of his name, my heart softens. "He’s sweet," I say. "I met him at the engagement party. He remembered me."

Her voice brightens. "Of course, he did. You’re kind of unforgettable."

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth despite the knot in my chest. Leave it to Emma to lift my mood when everything else feels heavy.

"But Sky…" Her voice dips lower, her words threaded with caution. "It’s not just him, you know? You have to take care of yourself in all this, too."

I swallow the ache rising in my throat. "I know."

There’s a pause, one heavy with things left unsaid. "Just… remember," Emma says, her voice fierce in the quiet. "If you need to leave, you know where to find me."

Her words settle deep in my chest, wrapping around the frayed edges of my resolve. I nod, even though she can’t see me.

"I miss you already," I whisper.

"Me too," Emma says, the softness returning to her voice. "But I’m always here. No matter what."

I hold onto that promise long after the call ends.

For a moment, the silence in the house feels less oppressive. Less lonely.

A faint shuffle from the hallway draws my attention. I glance up just in time to see Alejandro peeking around the corner, his dark curls slightly mussed from play. His big, curious eyes widen when he realizes I’ve spotted him.

"Hey there," I say softly, setting my phone aside.

He hesitates, shifting on his little feet. I wonder how much of this , of me feels strange to him. After all, I’m the new piece in his perfectly structured world.

"You can come in," I offer, keeping my voice light. "I don’t bite. Promise."

That earns me a small smile. Slowly, he steps into the room, dragging a plush lion toy behind him. His tiny fingers tighten around its paw like it’s the only thing anchoring him in the unfamiliar.

"Did you have fun today?" I ask.

He shrugs, his expression thoughtful. "A little."

I smile. "Just a little?"

“I liked the cake,” he says quietly, his lips twitching into the ghost of a smile.

I laugh softly. "Cake’s always the best part."

Alejandro fidgets with his lion, his small face growing serious. "Do you… like it here?"

The question catches me off guard. How much does he understand? Is he wondering if I belong here as much as I am?

"I’m still getting used to it," I admit. "But I like talking to you."

His face lights up at that, and he takes a hesitant step closer. "I like talking to you too."

Something warm unfurls in my chest. For all the coldness surrounding this arrangement, Alejandro feels real, genuine in a way nothing else here does.

"Do you want to sit with me?" I offer, patting the edge of the bed.

He nods and climbs up beside me, his small body warm against my side. The quiet stretches between us, but it isn’t heavy. It’s comfortable.

"Is the lion your favorite?" I ask, brushing my fingers lightly against its worn mane.

He nods. "Papa gave him to me when I was little."

There’s something vulnerable in his voice that makes my throat tighten. I imagine cold, unreadable Alonso holding this boy in his arms, giving him a stuffed lion to comfort him. It doesn’t fit the image I have of him, and yet… it does.

"He must love you a lot," I say gently.

Alejandro’s face softens. "He does." His voice is quiet but sure like it’s the one thing he doesn’t question.

I want to say more, but a shadow falls across the room. I glance up and find Alonso standing in the doorway, his gaze fixed on us. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something almost… softer in the way his eyes linger on Alejandro.

“He couldn’t sleep?” Alonso’s voice is quiet, his usual coolness softened by the dim light.

“He had a bad dream,” I explain, keeping my voice calm.

Alonso steps closer and, without a word, lifts Alejandro effortlessly into his arms. The boy curls against his chest, murmuring softly as his eyelids droop.

“You didn’t have to stay with him,” Alonso says quietly, as though the sight of us together unsettles him.

“I wanted to,” I reply, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, something flickers in his expression, something I can’t quite name.

“Thank you,” he says.

He turns and carries Alejandro out of the room, leaving me alone with thoughts I can’t escape.

And for the first time, I wonder if maybe just maybe there’s more to Alonso Ignacio than the mask he wears.