183

183
Emilia’s POV
Alonso sat across from me in the small study, a room filled with old, leather-bound books and the lingering scent of cigars. The air was tense, but there was something different about his demeanor tonight-less authoritative, more… human. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped as if searching for the right words.
“I owe you an explanation,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
I crossed my arms, not ready to let my guard down. “You owe me more than that.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. “You’re right. I’ve kept too much from you, and I see now that it was a mistake. But I need you to understand… everything I’ve done has been to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended. “From Alaric? From the world? From yourself?”
He didn’t flinch at my accusation, which somehow irritated me more. “From the same people that took your mother from me,” he said quietly.
The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on my chest. I hadn’t expected him to bring up my birth mother, let alone in this context.
“You told me she died,” I said cautiously, watching his face for any sign of deception. “But you never said how.”
His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor as if the memory itself was too painful to meet my eyes. “Her name was Isabella,” he said after a long pause. “She was the kind of woman who could light up a room just by walking into it. Strong, intelligent, fierce-much like you.”
I swallowed hard, caught off guard by the compliment.
“We met when we were young,” he continued, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “She wasn’t from a powerful family like mine, but she had a fire in her that drew me to her. Against all odds, we fell in love.”
“Then what happened?” I asked, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
His expression darkened, the softness replaced by a cold, steely resolve. “Rivalries in our world are rarely just about business. They’re personal. And my enemies knew the best way to hurt me was through her.”
My stomach churned, dread pooling in my gut.
“She was taken,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Raped. Killed. They made sure I knew it was because of me. Because I dared to defy them.”
I froze, the breath stolen from my lungs. The word *raped* hung in the air like a dagger, sharp and unbearable.
“I tried to protect her,” he said, his tone suddenly fierce. “I tried to shield her from the dangers of my world, but I failed. And I vowed I’d never let that happen again. Not to anyone I loved.”
His eyes met mine then, filled with a mixture of anguish and determination. “That’s why I’ve been so adamant about keeping you safe, even if it means keeping you here against your will. I can’t lose you the way I lost her.”
My throat tightened, and I looked away, unable to process the storm of emotions swirling inside me. Part of me felt a flicker of sympathy for him, but it was quickly drowned out by anger.
“Do you think locking me up is the answer?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Do you think treating me like a prisoner is any better than what those men did to her?”
He flinched at my words, his mask of composure slipping for just a moment. “It’s not the same.”
“It feels the same to me,” I shot back. “You say you’re protecting me, but all I see is someone trying to control me. To keep me under their thumb because they’re too afraid to let me live my life.”
Alonso ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “You don’t understand-”
“No, you don’t understand,” I interrupted, standing up from my chair. “You think your pain gives you the right to decide what’s best for me, but it doesn’t. I’m not Isabella. I’m not your wife. I’m your daughter, and I deserve to make my own choices, even if they scare you.”
He stared at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might lash out, but instead, he sighed heavily, the fight seeming to drain out of him.
“You’re right,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “You’re not Isabella. And maybe I’ve been holding on too tightly because I’m afraid of losing you too.”
His admission caught me off guard, and for the first time, I saw him not as the ruthless, unyielding man who had taken me from Alaric, but as someone deeply flawed and broken.
“Then let me go,” I said softly, my tone no longer laced with anger but with quiet stubbornness. “Let me go back to Alaric. Let me make my own decisions.”
His eyes darkened at the mention of Alaric, the vulnerability replaced by that familiar steeliness. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” I demanded, exasperated.
“Because he’s a Castillo,” Alonso said, his voice sharp. “His family is responsible for more pain than you can imagine.”
I frowned, the pieces of his story clicking into place. “You mean… the Castillos were the ones who…?”
He didn’t answer, but the tension in his jaw told me everything I needed to know.
“You’re blaming Alaric for something his family did?” I asked, incredulous. “Do you even hear yourself? Alaric is nothing like that.”
“You don’t know him like I do,” Alonso said firmly. “Plus I never said it was his family responsible.”
“And you don’t know him like I do,” I countered. “He’s kind, protective, and yes, maybe a little overbearing, but he loves me. He wouldn’t hurt me, and he’s not responsible for what his father or anyone else in his family did. And like you just said, they never did anything to Isabella.”
Alonso shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. “You’re young. You see the world through rose-colored glasses.”
“And you’re bitter,” I shot back. “You see the world through the lens of your own pain and refuse to believe anyone could be different.”
Silence fell between us, heavy and suffocating. I could see the conflict in his eyes. I could see how he was fighting to protect me and also his unwillingness to let go of that hate.
“Emilia,” he said finally, his voice weary, “you’re my daughter. I’ve already lost so much. I can’t lose you too.”
“You’re not losing me,” I said, my tone softening despite myself. “But you will if you keep trying to control me. I love Alaric, and I’m going back to him, whether you like it or not.”
His expression darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned away, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world rested on them.
“I need time,” he said quietly. “Time to think.”
“Take all the time you need,” I said, stepping toward the door. “But just know I won’t wait forever.”
With that, I walked out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t know if I’d gotten through to him, but one thing I knew was that I wasn’t going to stay cooped up in here forever.