35

Emilia’s POV
I am nervous due to how cold Alexander looks, and I muster up the courage to ask him what happened, mentioning that I thought he had already gone to work. The room feels tense as I cautiously approach him, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Alexander, what’s going on?” I ask, my voice tinged with nervousness. “I thought you had already left for work.”
He looks up at me, his gaze piercing and distant. “Change of plans,” he responds curtly. “I had some things to take care of here.”
I swallow hard, trying to maintain my composure. The atmosphere feels heavy, and I can’t shake off the feeling that something is amiss. I decide to steer the conversation away from his unexpected presence at home.
“Well, I found the kids downstairs. We were playing together and chatting,” I explain, my voice shaky. “They seem to be having a good time.”
Alexander’s expression remains stoic, but I sense a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. “What were they talking about?”
My heart skips a beat, and panic sets in. I wonder if he overheard them talking about their mother. According to the kids, Alexander doesn’t like it when they bring up their mother in conversations. I fear that he might get mad if I tell him the truth.
“Oh, you know, just regular kid stuff,” I say, forcing a casual tone and attempting to cover up my worry with a weak smile. “They were talking about their favorite toys and games.”
I hope my response is enough to divert his attention, but I can’t shake the feeling that he sees through my facade. I wait anxiously for his next words, dreading what he might say or ask next.
He studies me for a moment, his gaze intense and unyielding. Finally, he breaks the silence. “Well, that’s good. It’s important for them to have fun and bond with each other.”
Relief washes over me, and I manage to let out a sigh of relief. I try to keep the conversation light, hoping to alleviate the tension between us.
“So, what did you call me in here for?” I ask, my voice still laced with nerves.
Alexander gestures towards a chair, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Take a seat, Emilia. We need to talk about a few things.”
I pull out a seat, inwardly assessing the situation and trying to figure out what might have happened. I have a few guesses swirling in my mind, each one more unsettling than the last. One possibility is that their grandfather found out I was back from vacation and has pressured Alexander to persuade me to return to the pack house and fulfill my duties. Another possibility is that there’s a significant problem related to the news I gave Alexander the other day. And then there’s the possibility that he has discovered one of my lies and intends to confront me about it. The list of potential reasons goes on, but those are the ones that come to mind immediately. I decide to play it safe and ask him first.
“What happened, Alexander? You seem so gloomy,” I inquire, hoping for some clarity.
Alexander meets my gaze, his eyes still guarded. “Did you go out yesterday?” he asks, his tone serious.
My mind races to the events that transpired at the supermarket. Fear and guilt immediately wash over me because I know he wouldn’t approve. The supermarket was filled with humans, and taking the alpha’s kids there was a risky move on my part. Not to mention what ultimately happened there. I decide to hide it from him. After all, he wasn’t around when I left, and the kids wouldn’t want their father to know that they had gone looking for their mother. So who was going to tell him the truth?
“No, I didn’t go out yesterday,” I respond, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I stayed at home with the kids, playing and taking care of them.”
I hope my answer is enough to divert his suspicions, but a nagging feeling of guilt persists.
He looks thoughtful for a moment, his gaze fixed on me. Then, he reaches into the drawer beside him and pulls out a bunch of photographs. My heart sinks as I realize what they are. He tells me that one of the reporters from the opposing group took these photos and wanted to post them on their site, but he managed to stop it from happening.
Embarrassment floods over me, and I feel the weight of my lie pressing down on me. Why did I take those kids out, especially to somewhere like that, when the housekeeper could have easily taken care of all their needs? I try to come up with an explanation, searching for words to justify my actions.
“I… I just wanted the kids to have some experiences,” I stammer, my voice filled with guilt. “They’ve been sheltered for so long, and I thought it would be good for them to explore a bit. I wanted to give them some joy.”
Alexander’s expression remains unreadable, and his silence only adds to my unease. I continue, desperately trying to make him understand.
“They were having so much fun, Alexander,” I add, my voice pleading. “You don’t see them when you’re not around. They truly enjoy these little outings.”
I hope my words strike a chord with him, that he realizes how much the kids relish these moments. But deep down, I know that my justification is flimsy. I betrayed his trust by taking them out without his knowledge or consent.
Finally, he speaks, his voice measured and calm. “Emilia, I understand your intentions, but you should have consulted with me first. Their safety is paramount, and exposing them to unnecessary risks is not acceptable.”
I hang my head, a mix of shame and remorse washing over me. He’s right. I should have respected his role as their father and sought his approval before taking such actions. My impulsive decision could have had dire consequences.
“I’m sorry, Alexander,” I whisper, my voice filled with sincerity. “I should have thought it through. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
He studies me for a moment, his gaze softening ever so slightly. “I know you care about them, Emilia,” he says, his tone gentle. “But their well-being and safety should always come first. Let’s be more mindful moving forward.”
I nod, grateful for his understanding.
However, that’s not all he called me here for. His words linger in the air, and I feel a mix of confusion and apprehension. I resist the urge to jump to conclusions and instead wait for him to continue, trying to maintain a composed demeanor.
He looks at me intently and asks, “Were you and the kids discussing their mother?”
My heart skips a beat, and I want to deny it, to brush it off as a simple conversation about toys and games. But before I can say anything, he beats me to it.
“I overheard them,” he says calmly, his voice devoid of any emotion.
A wave of guilt washes over me, and I realize the weight of my actions. He knows. He knows that the kids were talking about their mother, and he knows that I lied about it. The truth hangs in the air, waiting to be acknowledged.
“Why did you lie, Emilia?” he asks, his voice tinged with disappointment.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts, knowing that I can’t tell him the full truth, but I can’t bring myself to tell a blatant lie either. I decide to be honest, albeit carefully.
“I… I didn’t want to upset you,” I respond, my voice barely above a whisper. “I know how sensitive the topic of their mother is, and I thought it would be best to avoid it.”
His gaze softens slightly, and I can see a mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. It’s clear that their mother holds significance to him, and my words strike a chord. I tread cautiously, choosing my next words with care.
“I have my own opinions about their mother, Alexander,” I continue, my voice filled with sincerity. “But I understand that it’s a delicate matter for you. I wouldn’t want to disrespect your feelings or undermine the connection they have with her.”
Silence hangs in the air as he absorbs my words. I can’t predict his reaction, but I hope he understands my intentions and the difficulty of the situation. I never wanted to cause further turmoil or hurt.
Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice calm yet filled with curiosity. “I appreciate your consideration, Emilia, but I’m genuinely interested in hearing your opinions. What do you think of their mother?”
His question catches me off guard, and I pause for a moment, carefully weighing my words. I know I can’t reveal the full extent of my thoughts, as it would be a direct blow to his emotions. But I also can’t fabricate a lie, especially when he’s shown a willingness to listen.
Taking a deep breath, I gather my courage and respond honestly, albeit cautiously. “I believe their mother has been quite irresponsible,” I say, my voice gentle yet firm. “It’s hard for me to comprehend how someone could give birth to two children and seemingly forget about them entirely. They’re her own flesh and blood, and she brought them into this world after carrying them for four whole months. Yet, she hasn’t made any effort to search for them or fight for custody, regardless of what transpired between you.”