47

47
Emilia’s POV
I had gotten used to sorting through the endless parade of correspondence addressed to Alaric and his associates-party invitations, business proposals, invoices from expensive vendors. Since everyone was busy with Alaric’s party preparations, I had decided to do it today again.
I sat in the living room, sorting all of them out. Most of them were glossy pamphlets and bills.
There was a plain white envelope I was about to toss to another side but paused, turning the envelope around. There was no return address, just my name written on the front in thin, spidery handwriting.
My name. Not Alaric’s. Not Francesca’s. Mine.
I should’ve ignored it. I should’ve set it aside with the rest of the envelopes for the staff to sort through. But something made me pause. Maybe it was the way my name looked, spelled out in ink, as if the writer knew me, had thought carefully about what they were going to say.
I took the letter and slipped it into the back pocket of my jeans, telling myself I’d open it later, when I was alone. I finished sorting the mail, my hands moving automatically while my mind was filled with curiosity. It wasn’t until much later, when I had a few moments of peace in my room, that I pulled the letter out.
I tore the envelope open and unfolded the single sheet of paper inside. The message was typed, which surprised me-no fingerprints, no trace of the sender. My stomach twisted as I read the words, each one feeling like a drop of cold water down my spine.
“You think you’re safe there, don’t you? Playing house with a little girl who isn’t yours. You’ve grown comfortable, but you don’t belong. She doesn’t belong to you, either. Careful, Emilia, or you might find out how quickly things can change. Francesca isn’t as untouchable as you think.”
My fingers went numb. I read the letter again, and then once more, as if the words might change, might offer some explanation that I hadn’t seen the first time. But they didn’t. The message was clear, and the threat was unmistakable.
Francesca. They had mentioned her by name.
I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, the letter fluttering to the floor like a dead leaf. My mind raced through every possible explanation, but none of them made sense. Who would send something like this? And why?
I knew Alaric had enemies- probably more than I could count. It was part of the life he led, part of the world I’d been dragged into when I came to work for him. But this wasn’t directed at him. It was directed at me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the thundering of my heart. My first instinct was to go to Alaric, to show him the letter and let him deal with it. He would know what to do. He always did. But then I hesitated.
If I showed him this letter, he’d blame me. He’d say it was my fault for bringing attention to myself, for involving myself too closely with Francesca. I could almost hear his voice in my head, cold and accusing. “You were supposed to protect her, not make her a target.”
No. I couldn’t tell him. Not yet.
I picked up the letter again, smoothing the creases with trembling fingers. Maybe it was just a scare tactic. Maybe someone was trying to rattle me, to see if they could get a reaction. If that was the case, I couldn’t let them win. I had to pretend I hadn’t seen it. I had to act normal, as if everything was fine.
But how was I supposed to do that when Francesca’s safety was being threatened?
The door creaked open, and I shoved the letter back into my pocket, forcing a smile as Francesca peeked into the room.
“Emilia, are you okay?” she asked, her small face crinkled with concern. “You look… worried.”
I mustered a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to my own ears. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just thinking about what we should do for dinner tonight. Any ideas?”
“But Irene is back and she’s going to make dinner,” she reminded me.
“Irene is too busy overseeing your daddy’s party plans,” I replied. “Let’s surprise her by making dinner. It would take the work off her shoulders.”
Her face brightened immediately. “Spaghetti! With lots of cheese!”
“Spaghetti it is,” I agreed, grateful for the distraction. I pushed myself to my feet, ruffling her hair as I guided her out of the room. “Let’s go see what the Irene has in the kitchen.”
I kept up the act for the rest of the afternoon, smiling and playing along, even as the letter burned a hole in my pocket. Every time Francesca laughed, I felt a stab of fear. Whoever had sent that letter knew about her. They knew I cared about her. And they wanted me to know that she wasn’t safe.
Later, when Francesca was busy with her toys, I slipped away to the garden for some air. The mansion grounds were quiet, and it made the voices in my head seem louder than usual. I pulled the letter out again, reading it one last time before folding it carefully and tucking it back into the envelope. I couldn’t keep it on me. It was too risky. If anyone found it, especially Alaric, there would be questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
I hid the letter in a book on my shelf, pressing it between the pages. Then I leaned against the window, staring out at the manicured hedges and the clear blue sky, trying to make sense of it all.
Why target me? I was nobody. Just a nanny, someone who had drifted into this life by accident. I wasn’t important enough to be a threat. But Francesca… she was important. She was Alaric’s daughter. And that made her a pawn in a game I barely understood.
I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling a chill despite the warmth of the sun streaming through the glass. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched, that someone had been following me ever since the mall incident. Could it be connected? Was this part of the same threat?
It was possible. But it didn’t explain why they’d chosen now to send the letter. Why warn me instead of just acting on their threat?
I turned away from the window, forcing myself to move, to do something instead of standing there like a target. I went out of my room, finding Francesca in the living room, coloring with her crayons. She looked up at me with a big smile, and I felt a pang of protectiveness so strong it nearly took my breath away.
“Look, Emilia!” she exclaimed, holding up a drawing. It was of the two of us, holding hands, with a giant sun smiling down on us.
“It’s beautiful,” I told her, kneeling down to kiss the top of her head. “You’re an amazing artist, you know that?”
She beamed widely. She didn’t know that she was now a target for whatever reasons I didn’t know. I wanted to keep it that way. I wanted to protect her from whatever was coming, even if it meant keeping secrets from Alaric.
I glanced at the clock. He’d be home soon. I needed to figure out what I was going to say-or if I was going to say anything at all.
Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe the letter was just a cruel prank. But as I watched Francesca color, humming happily to herself, I knew I couldn’t take that chance. If something happened to her because I’d decided to stay quiet…
I couldn’t even finish the thought.
I sighed, deciding that I’d keep the letter hidden. I’d keep an eye on Francesca too. Stay alert and be sure before making any rash decisions.
Or maybe I should talk to Allesio. He was more levelheaded than Alaric, less likely to fly off the handle. But I’d have to be careful. If Alaric found out that I was talking to Allesio about Francesca behind his back, he’d never ever forgive me. He might even terminate our contract.
I exhaled. I had to remain quiet about it. It was risky, keeping this secret. But if it meant keeping Francesca safe, I’d do it a thousand times over.
I just hoped I wasn’t making a terrible mistake.