47Emilia’s POV I had gotten used to sorting through the endless parade of correspondence addressed to Alaric and his associates—party invitations, business proposals, invoices from expensive vendors. Since everyone was busy with Alaric’s party preparations, I had decided to do it today again.I sat in the living room, sorting all of them out. Most of them were glossy pamphlets and bills.There was a plain white envelope I was about to toss to another side but paused, turning the envelope around. There was no return address, just my name written on the front in thin, spidery handwriting.My name. Not Alaric’s. Not Francesca’s. Mine.I should’ve ignored it. I should’ve set it aside with the rest of the envelopes for the staff to sort through. But something made me pause. Maybe it was the way my name looked, spelled out in ink, as if the writer knew me, had thought carefully about what they were going to say.I took the letter and slipped it into the back pocket of my jeans, telling my
48Alaric’s POV The morning started quietly enough, but it didn’t last. It never does. I should have known better than to hope for a quiet day in this world of mine.My phone buzzed, the vibration sharp against the mahogany. I glanced at the screen and saw Allesio’s name flashing on it.“Tell me it’s good news,” I answered, leaning back in my chair. I could hear the noise of the city in the background on his end—traffic, honking, people shouting.“Not quite,” Allesio replied, his voice tight. “We’ve got a problem. A new group stirring things up in the city.”The words hit like a punch to the gut. Problems were nothing new—we were always dealing with something—but a new group? That was different. Unpredictable. I sat up, the tension coiling in my chest like a live wire.“Who are they?” I demanded. “Which family?”“That’s the thing,” Allesio said. “The details are vague. Nobody knows who they are, but they’re making moves—pushing into our territory, hitting a few of our smaller busines
49Emilia’s POVIt was the small things I noticed first. The subtle changes that whispered something was different, even if I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Extra men loitering by the gates, the usual staff looking a bit tenser than usual, and Allesio’s perpetual scowl seeming even deeper. Maybe it was nothing—Alaric always had a rotating roster of security, and after a while, you start to lose track of the familiar faces. But this felt different. It felt like there was a deeper reason behind the tighter security.I tried to brush it off. What did I know about Alaric’s business anyway? Maybe it was just a precaution, another one of his endless, layered defenses. Still, when I glanced out the window and caught sight of two new guards standing like statues at the end of the driveway, I couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut. I turned away, focusing on the task at hand: preparing Francesca for the charity event happening later today.It was supposed to be a simple gathering,
50Alaric’s POV I was shrugging off my shirt when Allesio walked into my room, his face calm but tired. “Emilia is in the study, she wants to talk.”“About what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I put my shirt back on and buttoned it.“I don’t know. She wouldn’t say,” he murmured with a shrug before walking out of the room, not caring if I had anything else to say. I decided to let that go. He was tired. Everyone was tired, even me. And I was supposed to be resting right now but since Emilia wanted to talk…I walked out of the room and headed straight to the study.The moment I walked into the study, I could tell something was off with Emilia. She was standing by the window, wringing her hands together. She always did that whenever she was worried. I’d seen it a few times before, but this was different—she looked almost sick with worry, like she’d been grappling with something for hours. My first instinct was to ask her what was wrong, but I held back, waiting for her to speak.I close
51Emilia’s POV My chest felt heavy, like I couldn’t get a proper breath. I made my way to the sitting room, feeling like a stranger in this mansion that had started to feel like home. Now it felt foreign and hostile, like the walls themselves were whispering accusations.How could I have been so careless?I sank onto one of the sofas, burying my face in my hands. The letter had been a threat, a direct one, against Francesca. And I had kept it from Alaric. I’d convinced myself I was doing the right thing, protecting his little girl from unnecessary fear. But now, after our conversation, I realized I’d only made things worse.I leaned back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. The ornate molding blurred as tears filled my eyes. I’d been so sure of myself, so sure that I could handle this without needing to drag Alaric into it. I had underestimated the situation, and now the guilt was eating away at me.What if something had happened to Francesca? The thought sent a shiver down
52Alaric’s POV My phone buzzed on the desk behind me. I knew it was Allesio without even looking at the screen. He was the only one who would call at this hour unless it was an emergency.“Speak,” I said, answering the call.“Boss,” Allesio’s voice was low and urgent. “I’m outside. We need to talk.”I hung up without replying, already making my way to the front entrance. When I pulled open the heavy doors, Allesio was standing on the steps, his face shadowed in the dim light. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and I knew whatever he had found wasn’t good.“Let’s go to the study,” I said, leading him inside. The mansion’s staff had long since retreated to their quarters, giving us the privacy we needed. As we entered the study, I closed the door behind us and gestured for him to sit.He didn’t. He paced instead, running a hand through his hair in a rare display of frustration. “Alaric, it’s worse than we thought,” he began. “The threats—it’s not just some lone wolf trying to sca
53Alaric’s POV The thrum of bass from the nightclub seeped through the walls like the beat of a pulse, filling the air with a low, steady vibration. The place was packed tonight, bodies moving on the dance floor like a mass of shadows under the shifting lights. I took a slow breath, letting the scent of sweat, perfume, and alcohol wash over me. It was familiar—too familiar. The kind of place where deals were made in whispers and secrets traded like currency.Allesio walked beside me, his face set in the hard, impassive mask he wore when we were on business. We cut through the crowd like a blade, the people parting instinctively as if they could sense the danger clinging to us. This was a place where people looked the other way, where nobody wanted to remember your face the next day. It was exactly why we were here.Our target was a small-time informant, the kind of rat that lived in the sewers of the city, scraping by with whatever scraps he could find. He wasn’t important in the gr
54Alaric’s POV I was in my study, going over the details of our latest shipments, when the knock came—two sharp raps, a pause, then a third. Allesio’s signal. I set down the file I’d been reading, already feeling the prickling sensation of unease.“Come in,” I called, pushing away from the desk.Allesio entered, his face set in a grim line, holding a small, nondescript brown package. It wasn’t the kind of thing you’d pay attention to in a pile of mail—ordinary, almost insignificant. But the stiffness in his shoulders told me everything I needed to know.“Found this at the front gate, sir,” he said, placing the package on my desk. “No return address.”I met his eyes. “Did you check it?”He gave a curt nod. “No explosives. It’s just paper inside, but it feels wrong.”Wrong. That single word was enough to send a jolt of cold rage through me. I grabbed a letter opener from the desk, slicing through the tape quickly, and pulled the flaps apart. Inside, there was a plain white envelope. I
208Emilia’s POVThe package sat on the dining table, wrapped in elegant gold paper and tied with a satin bow. Francesca bounced on her toes, her small frame radiating excitement.“Can I open it now, Emilia? Please?”I hesitated, glancing at the doorway where I knew Alaric would appear any moment. My stomach twisted at the thought of his reaction. This wasn’t just any gift—it was from Alonso.“Go ahead, sweetheart,” I said softly, smoothing down her curls. Francesca’s joy was infectious, and I couldn’t bear to ruin it for her.Her tiny fingers worked quickly to tear the paper, revealing a sleek black box. She opened it with a gasp, pulling out a beautiful, hand-carved wooden horse. The craftsmanship was impeccable, every detail perfect, from the delicate reins to the smooth finish of the wood.“It’s so pretty!” Francesca exclaimed, holding it up for me to see. “Look, Emilia! It’s like the ponies in my storybook!”I forced a smile, though my chest felt tight. “It’s beautiful, love. Do
207Emilia’s POVAlaric paced the living room like a caged tiger, his hand raking through his hair as he muttered under his breath. I sat on the couch, my arms folded, trying to keep my own emotions in check. This had become a familiar scene since I’d returned from seeing Alonso, the air between us heavy with tension neither of us seemed willing—or able—to break.Finally, he stopped and turned to face me, his dark eyes blazing. “I don’t understand how you can even consider letting that man into your life after everything he’s done.”I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “It’s not about letting him in, Alaric. It’s about understanding where I came from, about finding some kind of peace with it.”“Peace?” he repeated, his voice sharp. “You think you’re going to find peace with a man like Alonso? He’s a manipulator, Emilia. He’ll say whatever he thinks you want to hear to worm his way into your good graces.”I stood, my frustration bubbling over. “Do you think I don’t know that? Do you t
206Emilia’s POVI was seated across from Alonso in the dimly lit study of his villa, the journal clutched tightly in my hands. It felt strange to be here again, to look into the eyes of a man who had caused me so much pain and confusion, yet who claimed to have loved my birth mother more than life itself. He looked different today—not the powerful, untouchable mafia king, but a man weighed down by his own ghosts.“I found this,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt as I placed the journal on the polished wooden table between us. “It was my mother’s.”Alonso’s face softened, his gaze dropping to the worn leather cover. He didn’t reach for it. Instead, he leaned back, his expression shadowed with something I couldn’t quite name. Guilt? Pain? Regret?“She kept it hidden,” I continued. “But it paints a picture I’m not sure I can reconcile. She loved you, Alonso. That much is clear. But she was also afraid of you, afraid of what this life would do to her—and to me.”His shoulders sagged,
205Emilia’s POVI sat at the edge of the couch, clutching my mother’s journal like it was my lifeline. It had this emotional weight to it that I hated, pressing against my chest like a phantom ache and making me feel suffocated. Alaric paced the room, his sharp movements punctuated by the occasional clenched fist. I’d just finished reading him the most damning entries, and the fire in his eyes made me question whether I should’ve shared them at all.“She loved him,” I said quietly, breaking the tense silence. “That much is clear. But she was scared, too. Scared of what his world meant for her—and for me.”Alaric stopped mid-step, turning to face me. His jaw tightened, and his eyes were colder than I’d seen them in a long time. “She was scared because Alonso dragged her into hell. He promised her safety, and instead, he handed her over to a life she couldn’t escape.”His words cut deep, and not because they were wrong. The journal painted a picture of a man who loved my mother but cou
204Emilia’s POVThe late afternoon sunlight filtered through the wide windows of the library, casting golden patterns across the polished wood floor. My fingers brushed against the spine of an ancient leather-bound journal, its surface cracked and worn with time. I had found it tucked away in a small wooden chest Alonso had left in the room I was temporarily staying in—a chest I wasn’t supposed to open but couldn’t resist. I hadn’t even remembered about it until now.The name Inscribed on the cover made my breath catch. Isabella. My mother.I hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I had spent weeks trying to piece together who she really was, struggling to separate the idyllic image I had as a child from the fragmented truth Alonso had given me. And now, here in my hands, was her voice—her thoughts, her fears, her love—all bound in a fragile relic of the past.My heart pounded as I flipped open the cover. The pages were filled with a delicate script, the ink faded b
203Alaric’s POVThe meeting room was quiet except for the low hum of voices as my men debated logistics. Allesio stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed, the tension in his posture mirroring my own. I sat back in my chair, listening but not speaking, my fingers steepled as I processed the information.“They’ve been hitting our distribution routes near the docks,” Allesio said, his tone clipped. “Two shipments delayed this week alone. It’s not coincidence, Alaric.”My jaw tightened. “And you’re sure it’s the Santoros?”Allesio nodded. “As sure as I can be. The timing, the method—it fits their MO. They’re small-time, but they’re not stupid. They see the tension with Alonso and think it’s their chance to play kingmaker.”“Idiots,” I muttered, leaning forward. “They won’t survive stepping into this war.”“We could let them,” Allesio suggested. “Let them hit Alonso’s operations, stir up trouble on his end. It might even work in our favor.”“No,” I snapped, the finality in my voic
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