11

11
Alaric’s POV
Entering the office that morning, I was already in a volatile mood. The deal with the Morales family had barely survived the night, thanks to one of my men making the kind of error I couldn’t let slide. Everything I’d built depended on loyalty, precision, and control. Mistakes like his weren’t just errors; they were weaknesses.
He sat across the desk from me now, visibly shaking as he waited for me to speak. I paced behind my desk, keeping my voice level despite the anger simmering underneath.
“Explain to me how it was possible for you to misplace something as crucial as the delivery details?” I asked, voice low but firm.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Castillo,” he stammered. “I-it won’t happen again.”
I stopped pacing, fixing him with a cold gaze. “You’re right-it won’t.”
I drew my gun, watching his eyes widen in fear, but he didn’t try to run. He knew better. In my world, there was no room for second chances when betrayal or negligence was involved. I pulled the trigger, a single shot, and he was gone. No screaming. No mess. Just… silence. I gestured for one of my guards to remove the body.
“Clean this up,” I ordered, coldly dismissing the mess he’d created and the consequences of his mistake. One way or another, people would learn that my trust wasn’t something to be thrown away.
I spent the rest of the day handling the business, putting out fires, ensuring everything would run smoothly after the mess of the morning. By the time I finished, I felt drained, more than I’d like to admit. After making sure I was done for the day, I left for home.
When I arrived, the mansion was calm. But as I stepped into the hall, I heard a soft melody drifting down the corridor. I paused, listening. It was Emilia’s voice, gentle and soothing. The kind of sound that felt foreign in my house-a strange mix of softness and calm. I followed the sound until I reached Francesca’s room.
Standing by the door, I saw Emilia sitting beside Francesca, singing softly while my daughter’s eyes fluttered, slowly giving in to sleep. The scene caught me off-guard, and for a moment, I simply watched them, unable to look away. Emilia’s face was warm, a peaceful smile on her lips, as though she’d known my daughter her whole life. Francesca’s small fingers were curled around Emilia’s hand, holding on with surprising strength even as she drifted off.
Emilia looked up and noticed me standing there. She flashed a smile that was neither forced nor cautious-just genuine, as though she was simply happy to see me. “Mr. Castillo,” she whispered, careful not to wake Francesca. “Thank you, for everything you did for Matteo’s surgery. I can’t tell you what it means to me.”
I inclined my head, accepting her gratitude with a nod. I kept my expression neutral, though I felt something unusual, a sense of satisfaction perhaps. “Did it go well?” I asked, keeping my tone cool.
Her face brightened. “Yes. The doctor said it was a success. Matteo is still resting, but everything went perfectly.”
The relief in her voice was palpable, almost contagious. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to feel a small amount of pride. I had the power to change lives, to create or destroy futures with a simple decision. Today, I had chosen to help. But as quickly as the thought entered, I pushed it away. Emilia was grateful-understandably-but I reminded myself it was a transaction, nothing more. She was here to take care of Francesca, not to engage in any sentimental exchanges.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, letting my gaze drift back to Francesca, who was now completely asleep. Emilia looked like she wanted to continue the conversation, her mouth opening as if to say more, but I cut her off before she could.
“That will be all for tonight,” I said quietly, stepping back from the doorway. She looked a little taken aback, but quickly nodded, understanding my tone. I wasn’t here for idle conversation, nor to form connections that would eventually complicate the lines I’d drawn between us.
After a moment, she glanced down at Francesca, stroking her hair one last time, then stood and followed me out of the room. The door clicked softly shut behind her, and I turned to make my way down the hall.
I felt bar for speaking to her that way, and I tried to remind myself that Emilia was just a means to an end. I shook my head, irritated with myself. I didn’t need to analyze this. Emilia’s presence was temporary; Francesca would grow up, and Emilia would be a mere shadow in her life, if even that.
Still, I couldn’t deny that my daughter’s joy had increased since Emilia had joined us. Francesca had always been a happy child, but I’d noticed a new energy in her lately. A brightness that wasn’t there before. And today, as I watched Emilia sing her to sleep, I could see why.
I stepped into the house, the sound of Emilia’s voice greeted me as I entered. This time, she wasn’t singing, but I could hear her laughter, soft and low, drifting down the hall. Francesca’s giggles answered her, bright and clear. I lingered outside the doorway, catching sight of them. Emilia was on the floor, playing with Francesca’s dolls as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Daddy!” Francesca spotted me first, her eyes lighting up as she ran over to me, pulling me into the room. “Look, Mommy and I were playing house!”
The words “Mommy” echoed in the room, and my gaze instinctively moved to Emilia. She looked startled, her face turning a faint shade of pink. “Francesca…” she began, her voice gentle but embarrassed. “Sweetheart, I’m just Emilia, remember?”
Francesca only laughed, looking like she couldn’t care less. “You can be Mommy if you want,” she said, her tone as simple as if she were offering to share a toy. I just frowned.
“Emilia, thank you,” I said curtly, straightening up. “That’ll be all for tonight.”
She hesitated, her lips parting slightly, like she had more to say. But when she saw my expression, she simply nodded. “Of course, Mr. Castillo,” she murmured, gathering the dolls and placing them back on the shelf before rising to her feet.
Francesca looked disappointed as Emilia slipped out of the room. “Daddy, is Mommy going home?” she asked, her face falling.
I knelt down to her level, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “She’s here for you, Francesca. She’s your nanny. Remember that.”
She pouted, her small hands clinging to my sleeve. “But I like her, Daddy.”
I forced a smile, patting her hand. “I know, sweetheart. Now, let’s get you ready for bed.”