72Emilia’s POV The kitchen was filled with the smell of fresh coffee and eggs sizzling on the stove. I stood by the counter, pouring myself a cup of coffee, and watched Alaric out of the corner of my eye. He was sitting at the table with Francesca, who was chattering away happily about the park yesterday. His face was relaxed, a slight smile playing on his lips as he nodded along, responding in that soft, gentle tone he only ever used with her.I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice the difference in him. There was something lighter about Alaric this morning, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It was subtle, but I could see it in the way he sat back in his chair, his posture less rigid. The dark cloud that usually hovered over him seemed to have lifted, at least for the moment. It made him look… younger, almost.I took a sip of my coffee, leaning against the counter as I watched them. It was strange to see him smiling. Not the small, tight-lipped smirk I’
73Alaric’s POVThe phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. I stared at it for a moment, letting the screen vibrate against the polished wood of my desk. It was barely nine in the morning, and the calls had already started coming in. Business, disputes, and the usual mess that came with running a criminal empire. I took a long sip of my coffee, savoring the bitter taste as I mentally prepared for the onslaught.I finally picked up the call, putting it on speaker as I sifted through the stack of papers in front of me. “Talk.”“It’s Dante,” came the gruff voice on the other end. “We’ve got a situation at the docks. One of the shipments was flagged by customs. They’re asking questions.”“Didn’t we grease enough palms for this not to be an issue?” I leaned back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. The headache that had been brewing since last night was starting to make itself known.“We did,” Dante replied, sounding just as frustrated as I felt. “But there’s a new officer on duty—some fresh
74Emilia’s POV I stared at Alaric’s text for the millionth time since I received it yesterday, my heart pounding hard in my chest as tears filled my eyes.“Yeah, that’d be good. Thanks.” He had replied, but that wasn’t what made me want to cry. But it was the realization that I made this morning that made my eyes sting. I was in love with him.I didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was gradual, like water eroding rock, wearing down my defenses bit by bit until I was exposed and vulnerable. Or maybe it was sudden—like the moment you realize you’re standing on the edge of a cliff and the ground beneath you is crumbling. I can’t pinpoint the exact second, but somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Alaric.The realization hit me like a punch to the gut as I sat alone in the kitchen. The house was usually quiet. All the workers were probably taking a break. I was nuring a cup of coffee, staring out of the window at the garden but not really seeing it. My mind was stuck replying e
75Emilia’s POV My eyes met with Alaric’s across the room for the umpteenth time today. And I was sure he could tell what was running through my head.God.When did I turn to this horny mess that couldn’t even control myself? I never knew that being with Alaric could be so…addicting.I rubbed my thighs together, taking my eyes off him and trying to hard to focus on what Francesca was doing but it was probing to be fruitless. Fuck I needed him right now.Without thinking of it, I got up abruptly, turning to him and mustering the most serious and professional look I could. I walked to him, not caring that he was seated with his most high ranking men and discussing work matters. “I need to speak with you,” I murmured quietly, meeting Allesio’s narrowed eyes and looking away as fast as I could.“Handle it,” Alaric said to his second in command a he got up from the chair, motioning for me to follow him. We went up the stairs and I had no doubt that he was leading me to his office. But I c
76Emilia’s POV I found myself standing in front of Matteo’s door this morning, clutching a bag of pastries like it was my lifeline. It’s wasn’t particularly because I missed him that I was here today. I did miss him, but that wasn’t the exact reason. It was that I felt like I was drowning and my mind was an undeniable mess of my emotions.I knocked the door once, waiting for him to come and open the door. Matteo opened the door almost immediately, his face lighting up in a way that only reminded me how much I missed him. “Emmy!” he exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug before I could even step inside.“Hey, Teo,” I murmured into his shoulder, and for a moment, I let myself relax into the comfort of my brother’s embrace. I felt like my mind was finally going calm after all this whole just because I was in his presence.He pulled back, holding me at arm’s length to give me one of his patented Matteo once-overs. “You look tired,” he said, frowning. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me
77Emilia’s POVA shiver ran through my body at the way Alaric touched me and my thighs clenched in anticipation. I couldn’t believe I was already getting wet at such simple touch. He kissed my neck and ran his fingers through my hair. “You look beautiful,” he muttered, kissing my hair.“Thank you,” I answered, my cheeks turning pink as I eyed the hoodie and sweatpants I was in.“Take off your clothes,” he added, kissing my neck one more time and he walked behind me. He took off my hood and began unbraiding my hair carefully.“To take off my clothes,” I began slowly. “I need you to leave my hair,” I reminded him. My hair was in two cornrows and I didn’t want him getting them all rough and tangled.He unbraided the first cornrow and moved to the other one without a word. He unbraided that one too and ruffled my hair slightly. “I love your hair better when it’s let down,” He murmured against my neck and then I felt him take a step back. “Take off your clothes.”I gulped as I took off my
78Emilia’s POVI got up from the bed, stretching slightly. I forced myself to get off the bed. My mind wouldn’t stop going to Francesca and it made me uneasy. I needed to check on her first to make sure she was fine before I did anything else.I wrapped my robe around my body, walking out of my room and rushing to her room. Pushing open the door to her room, I froze in the doorway. Francesca was lying in bed, her little frame curled under the covers, her face flushed a deep red. Sweat clung to her brow, and her breathing was shallow and uneven. My heart dropped.“Francesca?” I called softly, moving closer.She stirred but didn’t open her eyes. When I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead, a wave of heat radiated off her skin. She was burning up.“Francesca,” I said again, my voice shaking now as I gently shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes halfway, her usual bright brown gaze dull and glassy.“Mommy…” she croaked, her voice weak and scratchy.“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I said
79Alaric’s POV I’ve faced countless threats in my life. Guns aimed at my head. Betrayals by people I thought I could trust. Enemies clawing at the edges of my empire, waiting for a moment of weakness. But nothing—NOTHING—had ever terrified me as much as seeing Francesca lying helpless in that hospital bed.The sterile smell of antiseptic burned my nose as I sat in the uncomfortable chair outside her room. My hands were clasped tightly, my knuckles white. The usual iron control I prided myself on felt like it was slipping. I couldn’t stop replaying the image of her small, flushed face, the way her body had burned with fever when I held her. She’d felt so fragile, and for the first time, I realized just how powerless I was when it came to her health.What if this was something serious? What if I couldn’t protect her from this?The thought clawed at my chest like a wild animal, threatening to rip me apart. Francesca was everything to me—my light, my reason for holding it all together.
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