All Chapters of The Mafia's Nanny : Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

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

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

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

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

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