192Emilia’s POVMy heart was pounding so hard in my chest due to anticipation and guilt of what I was about to do. I slipped out of the house quietly, my heart pounding as I tiptoed past Francesca’s room. The faint hum of Alaric’s voice from his study sent a pang through me, but I kept moving.This was something I had to do—alone.I hailed a cab at the edge of the property, pulling my coat tighter around me as the cold air bit at my skin. The driver didn’t ask questions, and I didn’t offer any. My mind too tangled in the possibilities of the outcome of this meeting. And if Alaric was right and I never came back…I just hoped he and Francesca would find it in their hearts to forgive me someday. But I had to do this.When we reached the café where Alonso had asked to meet, I hesitated outside. I could see him sitting in a booth near the back, his posture rigid yet somehow resigned.I stepped inside, the chime of the door breaking the quiet hum of conversation. Alonso’s eyes found me imm
193Alaric’s POVThe low hum of my men murmuring among themselves was a faint backdrop to the chaos in my mind. I stood at the desk, my fists pressed against the mahogany surface, staring at the map spread before me. My eyes traced the routes leading to Cruz territory, my mind calculating every possible move Alonso might make next.The door to the study pushed open and closed. I could hear light, precise footsteps and I instantly knew who it was without even having to look up.“You better have helpful information if you’re cutting through my time like this,” I muttered flatly.Then Allesio’s voice cut through my thoughts like a knife. “She’s gone.”I froze, my head snapping up to meet his panicked expression. “What do you mean, gone?”“I checked her room,” he said, his tone tight with worry. “She’s not there. She’s not anywhere in the house.”My blood ran cold, dread washing over me like a tidal wave. My mind instantly jumped to the worst-case scenario: Alonso.“She wouldn’t have just
194Emilia’s POVThe sound of Francesca’s labored breathing filled the room, her small chest rising and falling in fragile, uneven rhythm. I sat perched on the edge of her bed, clutching her tiny hand. She usually radiated warmth and joy, but now she looked so pale, so fragile, it made my heart ache.“Do you need anything, sweetheart?” I asked softly, though I already knew the answer. Her voice had been barely a whisper since early morning.She shook her head weakly, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “I’m fine, Mommy. Just tired,” she murmured, her voice cracking with the effort it took to speak.Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You’re not fine,” I said gently but firmly. “And we’re going to make sure you are, okay?”The door creaked open behind me, and I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Alaric. His heavy footsteps were unmistakable, purposeful yet hesitant.“How is she?” he asked, his deep voice raw with tensio
195Emilia’s POVThe package sat on the dining table like a live grenade, wrapped in pristine white paper and tied with an elegant gold ribbon. It was undeniably expensive. Alaric stared at it from across the room, his arms crossed over his chest, a muscle in his jaw ticking with unrestrained fury.“This is how he operates,” Alaric muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “First letters, now gifts. He’s testing boundaries, trying to worm his way into your head.”I ran my fingers over the ribbon, a knot forming in my stomach. The card attached bore only one word: Francesca.“It’s not for me,” I said quietly, though my voice didn’t carry the conviction I wanted.Alaric scoffed, stepping closer, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his anger. “Don’t be naïve, Emilia. It doesn’t matter who it’s addressed to. This is about you. Always has been.”I didn’t look at him. Instead, I focused on the neat handwriting and the deliberate simplicity of the card. “What harm can a gift do?”Alaric’s ha
196Emilia’s POVThe library was quiet except for the soft rustling of papers as I flipped through the pages of yet another thick book. The words blurred together after hours of reading, but I couldn’t stop. Not yet. A part of me felt like if I didn’t keep looking, the answers would slip further away, buried in the cracks of time and silence.The truth about my mother and who she really was, wasn’t just something Alonso or Alaric could tell me—I had to find it myself. I needed facts, not their filtered versions of what happened.Alaric had protested, of course. “You’re digging into the past of a man who would rather kill you than let you find out his secrets,” he’d said the first time I brought up the idea. But when he realized I wouldn’t back down, he reluctantly offered his resources and, surprisingly, his presence.“Find anything yet?” Alaric’s voice broke through my thoughts. He stood in the doorway of the small study, leaning casually against the frame, though his expression betr
197Emilia’s POV. I curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over my legs as I wondered about all the things we’ve come across about my mother. All the puzzles that only made my head go crazy instead of giving answers to all the questions I had. The air was quiet and still, save for the occasional crackle of the fire from the fireplace.Alaric sat across from me, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring into the flames. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers tightened slightly around the glass. He’d been quiet all evening, and that silence had stretched between us like a taut string, ready to snap.I didn’t press him. Not yet. Alaric was like a storm—you had to feel out the winds before stepping into the tempest. Instead, I let the quiet settle, taking slow sips of tea and letting the warmth seep into my hands.Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. “I can’t stop thinking about how close I came to losing you.”I looked
198Emilia’s POVThe library smelled faintly of leather and old paper. It was a comforting scent that reminded me of rainy days spent lost in novels. But this wasn’t a comforting moment. I was surrounded by stacks of folders and records, Alaric’s laptop open to a clutter of tabs.“Read that again,” Alaric said, his voice tight, as he handed me a document from the pile.I took it, my fingers brushing against his briefly, and skimmed over the neatly typed lines. It was a record of a business deal from over two decades ago between Cruz Industries and Castillo Holdings. My eyes snagged on the last line: “Finalized under the direction of Alonso Cruz and Jonas Castillo.”“It doesn’t make sense,” I murmured, setting the paper down on the table between us. “Why would Alonso and Jonas be working together back then? I thought their families were always at each other’s throats.”Alaric’s jaw ticked, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “They were. Or at least, that’s the story my father alw
199Emilia’s POVI walked out of the room, wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs as I wondered if Alaric would ever agree to what I was about to suggest to him. I already knew the answer anyway. He wouldn’t. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t give it a try still.I walked down to his office, my footsteps near silent as I prayed to God that he doesn’t blow this out of proportion.I knocked once and opened the door, poking my head in. He was seated by the table, nursing a bottle of whiskey in his hands as he read some kind of document.He raised his head as I walked in and closed the door behind us. “Babe,” he murmured, dropping the glass on the desk. His eyes brightened up and I hated that I would be the one who let that brightness dim.“What’s going on?” He asked, raising a brow when I didn’t smile at him.“I want to go back” I murmured, biting my lips. There was no use beating around the bush and dragging this out.He stiffened. “Go back where?” He asked flatly.“To Alonso’s villa,” I mur
202Alaric’s POVThe house was quiet, too quiet, as I sat in my office with a glass of whiskey that I hadn’t touched in over an hour. The amber liquid caught the dim light of the desk lamp, swirling lazily as if mocking my restless mind. Emilia was in the next room, probably pacing, possibly crying, but definitely not telling me everything she was thinking. That was the problem with her. She’d shoulder a world of burdens without letting anyone else carry even a fraction of the weight.And it was killing me.I heard the soft creak of the door opening, and when I looked up, there she was. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her face weary, but there was something very dull in her expression. She didn’t wait for me to invite her in—she rarely did these days. Instead, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts.“Are you going to stand there all night?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.She crossed the room and sat in the chair ac
201Emilia’s POVThe house was unusually quiet when I stepped through the front door, the familiar scent of leather and polished wood greeting me like an old friend. My body ached from the stress of the day, and my mind was still reeling from everything Alonso had said. But as my gaze swept the empty entryway, I felt a pang of longing—for the comfort of this home, for Francesca’s sweet voice, and, yes, even for Alaric’s brooding presence.I hadn’t even taken a step toward the living room when I heard the unmistakable sound of Francesca’s laughter floating down the hallway. It was light and unburdened, and it felt like a balm on my frayed nerves.I followed it, my footsteps soft against the tiled floor, and found them in the sunroom. Francesca was perched on Alaric’s lap, her tiny hands clutching one of his much larger ones as she giggled at something he’d said. Alaric, for his part, looked almost relaxed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.The sight made my heart twist
200Emilia’s POVThe air inside the car felt heavy and suffocating as though the stupidity of my decision pressed down on every passenger. The convoy surrounding us—a caravan of SUVs loaded with Alaric’s men—only heightened my anxiety. Outside the tinted windows, the world passed by in muted colors, but my focus was on the knot in my stomach that tightened with every passing second.“I still think this is a mistake,” Alaric’s voice crackled through the small earpiece I wore, his tone as sharp as the blade he always carried.“I know,” I replied quietly, glancing at the driver, who kept his eyes locked on the road. “But I need to do this.”He sighed audibly. “We’ll be right outside. If anything feels wrong, anything at all—”“I know,” I interrupted. “You’ll storm the place. Just… trust me, Alaric.”The line went quiet, but I could sense his frustration. He hated this, hated the idea of me walking into Alonso’s villa even with his men stationed at every entrance and exit. Still, he’d agr
199Emilia’s POVI walked out of the room, wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs as I wondered if Alaric would ever agree to what I was about to suggest to him. I already knew the answer anyway. He wouldn’t. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t give it a try still.I walked down to his office, my footsteps near silent as I prayed to God that he doesn’t blow this out of proportion.I knocked once and opened the door, poking my head in. He was seated by the table, nursing a bottle of whiskey in his hands as he read some kind of document.He raised his head as I walked in and closed the door behind us. “Babe,” he murmured, dropping the glass on the desk. His eyes brightened up and I hated that I would be the one who let that brightness dim.“What’s going on?” He asked, raising a brow when I didn’t smile at him.“I want to go back” I murmured, biting my lips. There was no use beating around the bush and dragging this out.He stiffened. “Go back where?” He asked flatly.“To Alonso’s villa,” I mur
198Emilia’s POVThe library smelled faintly of leather and old paper. It was a comforting scent that reminded me of rainy days spent lost in novels. But this wasn’t a comforting moment. I was surrounded by stacks of folders and records, Alaric’s laptop open to a clutter of tabs.“Read that again,” Alaric said, his voice tight, as he handed me a document from the pile.I took it, my fingers brushing against his briefly, and skimmed over the neatly typed lines. It was a record of a business deal from over two decades ago between Cruz Industries and Castillo Holdings. My eyes snagged on the last line: “Finalized under the direction of Alonso Cruz and Jonas Castillo.”“It doesn’t make sense,” I murmured, setting the paper down on the table between us. “Why would Alonso and Jonas be working together back then? I thought their families were always at each other’s throats.”Alaric’s jaw ticked, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “They were. Or at least, that’s the story my father alw
197Emilia’s POV. I curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over my legs as I wondered about all the things we’ve come across about my mother. All the puzzles that only made my head go crazy instead of giving answers to all the questions I had. The air was quiet and still, save for the occasional crackle of the fire from the fireplace.Alaric sat across from me, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring into the flames. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers tightened slightly around the glass. He’d been quiet all evening, and that silence had stretched between us like a taut string, ready to snap.I didn’t press him. Not yet. Alaric was like a storm—you had to feel out the winds before stepping into the tempest. Instead, I let the quiet settle, taking slow sips of tea and letting the warmth seep into my hands.Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. “I can’t stop thinking about how close I came to losing you.”I looked
196Emilia’s POVThe library was quiet except for the soft rustling of papers as I flipped through the pages of yet another thick book. The words blurred together after hours of reading, but I couldn’t stop. Not yet. A part of me felt like if I didn’t keep looking, the answers would slip further away, buried in the cracks of time and silence.The truth about my mother and who she really was, wasn’t just something Alonso or Alaric could tell me—I had to find it myself. I needed facts, not their filtered versions of what happened.Alaric had protested, of course. “You’re digging into the past of a man who would rather kill you than let you find out his secrets,” he’d said the first time I brought up the idea. But when he realized I wouldn’t back down, he reluctantly offered his resources and, surprisingly, his presence.“Find anything yet?” Alaric’s voice broke through my thoughts. He stood in the doorway of the small study, leaning casually against the frame, though his expression betr
195Emilia’s POVThe package sat on the dining table like a live grenade, wrapped in pristine white paper and tied with an elegant gold ribbon. It was undeniably expensive. Alaric stared at it from across the room, his arms crossed over his chest, a muscle in his jaw ticking with unrestrained fury.“This is how he operates,” Alaric muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “First letters, now gifts. He’s testing boundaries, trying to worm his way into your head.”I ran my fingers over the ribbon, a knot forming in my stomach. The card attached bore only one word: Francesca.“It’s not for me,” I said quietly, though my voice didn’t carry the conviction I wanted.Alaric scoffed, stepping closer, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his anger. “Don’t be naïve, Emilia. It doesn’t matter who it’s addressed to. This is about you. Always has been.”I didn’t look at him. Instead, I focused on the neat handwriting and the deliberate simplicity of the card. “What harm can a gift do?”Alaric’s ha
194Emilia’s POVThe sound of Francesca’s labored breathing filled the room, her small chest rising and falling in fragile, uneven rhythm. I sat perched on the edge of her bed, clutching her tiny hand. She usually radiated warmth and joy, but now she looked so pale, so fragile, it made my heart ache.“Do you need anything, sweetheart?” I asked softly, though I already knew the answer. Her voice had been barely a whisper since early morning.She shook her head weakly, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “I’m fine, Mommy. Just tired,” she murmured, her voice cracking with the effort it took to speak.Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You’re not fine,” I said gently but firmly. “And we’re going to make sure you are, okay?”The door creaked open behind me, and I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Alaric. His heavy footsteps were unmistakable, purposeful yet hesitant.“How is she?” he asked, his deep voice raw with tensio