28

28
Emilia’s POV
I wanted to go back to my house.
No. I needed to go back to my house. To pack up all my things that I hadn’t been able to when Alaric insisted I stayed here, and also got me clothes. I hadn’t gone back to my own place since then.
I wanted my things. I needed my things actually. My clothes, my books…everything. I was mulling over it while I went down the stairs as, only to see Alaric turning around the corner that led to his office.
My heart skipped a beat as I practically jumped down the last of the steps. I took a steadying breath, hurrying to him.
“Alaric,” I called, keeping my tone calm and composed.
He stopped, turning to look at me, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. “Yes?”
“I’d like to go back to my apartment for a few hours,” I said. “I left a lot of my belongings behind, and I’d like to pack them up properly and bring them here.”
I could practically hear my heart beating so hard in my chest, and I could see his expression shift into one of disapproval.
“It’s not necessary,” he replied flatly. “You have everything you need here.”
I braced myself, knowing he’d say that but hoping he’d listen to reason. “I don’t have everything. Just a few personal things. Books, some clothes, and… well, it’s not just about the things. I still have some things to sort out at my apartment.”
He regarded me coolly, his gaze steady. “I can send someone to get your things for you,” he said, as if that settled everything. “There’s no need for you to go yourself.”
Frustration rose up in me. “With all due respect, Alaric, they’re my things. I’d prefer to get them myself. It’s just for a few hours, and I’ll be back before dinner.”
He shook his head, cutting me off. “It’s not happening, Emilia,” he said firmly, his eyes narrowing. “I can’t have you going back there alone. It’s not safe.”
I could feel my patience wearing thin. But I knew better than to push him further. I’d already leaned that Alaric rarely changed his mind once he’d made a decision, and I wasn’t in any position to argue. The fact that he was unwilling to let me go back to my own apartment, even for a short time, was a reminder of how tightly controlled my life had become.
I nodded, trying to keep my disappointment in check. “Fine. I’ll make a list of things I need and give it to one of your men.”
He gave a short nod, clearly satisfied with that compromise, before he turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the hallway. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to let go of the frustration that had bubbled up. I needed to adapt, to learn to live with these limitations. But a part of me felt a quiet resentment growing, one that was hard to ignore.
Since Francesca was already asleep in her room, I went to sit by the pool, wanting to distract myself. The water was calm, reflecting the last traces of the setting sun, and I let my mind wander, trying to push away the tightness in my chest.
I reached for my phone, wanting to scroll through some photos I’d saved, little memories from my old life. But as I fumbled for it in my pocket, it slipped out of my hand and skidded toward the edge of the pool. I lunged, my hand grazing the case, but it was too late-the phone slid right off the edge and dropped into the water with a splash.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I snapped, reaching down into the water to grab it, pulling it out with a sinking feeling. I shook it, hoping maybe it could be saved, but it was already too late. The screen had gone black, and I knew better than to hope it would come back to life.
I sighed, feeling a fresh wave of frustration wash over me. Of all the things to happen today, this was the last thing I needed.
Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to calm down, but helplessness settled over me. I felt trapped in a way I hadn’t expected. I hated myself right now. Hated that day that Francesca bumped into me and called me her mother. Because now I was isolated, and I couldn’t get out of this.
I buried my face in my palms, breathing in deep and trying to calm myself.
After a few moments, I gathered myself and headed back inside, holding my ruined phone in my hand. Maybe Alaric would arrange for a replacement; after all, it was just a phone. But it was more than that to me. It was one of the last things that connected me to my old self, my old life.
I found him in his office, where he was reviewing some documents, his attention sharp and focused. He glanced up as I entered, taking in the expression on my face and the dripping phone in my hand.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice flat.
“My phone fell into the pool,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral.
He looked at the phone, then back at me, as if weighing his response. “I’ll have someone get you a new one,” he said finally, his tone dismissive.
I nodded, feeling the frustration rise again, but I held it back. “Thank you,” I replied, though it felt hollow.
He returned to his work, as if the conversation were over, and I turned to leave. When I raised my hand to the door handle, he spoke again, his voice softer this time.
“Emilia.”
I stopped, glancing back at him. There was something in his expression that I couldn’t quite place, a hint of something other than the usual guarded detachment.
“I know this isn’t easy for you,” he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “But you’re here for a reason. Trust me when I say it’s better this way.”
I took a deep breath, nodding. “I understand,” I replied. But that was a blatant lie. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand at all. But I left it at that.
I opened the door and stepped out, pushing my hair out of my face with a sigh as I walked to Emilia’s room, closed the door behind me and dropped my phone on her reading table. I sat beside her on her bed, kissing her brow and then her cheek before lying down next to her and hugging her tightly.