198
Emilia’s POV
The library smelled faintly of leather and old paper. It was a comforting scent that reminded me of rainy days spent lost in novels. But this wasn’t a comforting moment. I was surrounded by stacks of folders and records, Alaric’s laptop open to a clutter of tabs.
“Read that again,” Alaric said, his voice tight, as he handed me a document from the pile.
I took it, my fingers brushing against his briefly, and skimmed over the neatly typed lines. It was a record of a business deal from over two decades ago between Cruz Industries and Castillo Holdings. My eyes snagged on the last line: “Finalized under the direction of Alonso Cruz and Jonas Castillo.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” I murmured, setting the paper down on the table between us. “Why would Alonso and Jonas be working together back then? I thought their families were always at each other’s throats.”
Alaric’s jaw ticked, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “They were. Or at least, that’s the story my father always told me. The Castillos and the Cruzes were enemies for as long as I can remember. But this…” He gestured at the paper. “This suggests something different.”
“Maybe it was just business?” I suggested, though the uncertainty in my voice betrayed me.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t add up. My father hated Alonso, and Alonso clearly has no love for me. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just business.”
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing at my temples. The past few days had been a whirlwind of revelations and dead ends. Every time I thought we were getting closer to the truth, another piece of the puzzle seemed to slip through my fingers.
“What about this?” I asked, reaching for another folder. “It’s an older document, from before that deal. Maybe it can shed some light?”
Alaric leaned over, his focus sharp as I flipped the folder open. Inside was a list of names-contractors, suppliers, and other associates tied to Cruz Industries.
“What are we looking for?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But something about this feels… odd.”
We scanned the list in silence, the only sound the occasional creak of a chair or the rustle of paper. Then I spotted it.
“Wait.” I pointed to a name near the bottom of the list. “Isn’t this one of the shell companies you mentioned earlier? The ones tied to Alonso’s recent movements?”
Alaric’s eyes narrowed as he leaned closer. “It is. But that company didn’t exist back then-at least not officially. How is it on a document this old?”
My stomach churned uneasily. “You think Alonso’s been using the same network for decades?”
“It’s possible,” he said, his tone grim. “If that’s the case, then Alonso’s connection to the Castillos might go deeper than we thought.”
A cold realization washed over me. “Do you think Jonas knew?”
Alaric’s expression darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “If he did, he kept it from me. From everyone.”
I sighed, rubbing my head as I pondered over his words. This wasn’t what I had been expecting to find out when I started looking into my mother.
Jonas Castillo had always been a larger-than-life figure in Alaric’s stories-powerful, ruthless, and a cold-hearted bastard. The idea that he might have had secret dealings with Alonso Cruz, of all people, felt impossible.
“I don’t understand,” I said, my voice trembling. “If Alonso and Jonas were working together, why would Alonso go after my mother? Why kidnap me?”
“I don’t know,” Alaric admitted, his voice softer now. “But I promise we’ll figure it out. We’re getting closer, Emilia.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust that we were unraveling the tangled web of lies and secrets. But every new piece of information seemed to raise more questions than answers.
“Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way,” I said, breaking the silence. “What if Alonso wasn’t the one who initiated this? What if it was Jonas?”
Alaric stiffened, his gaze snapping to mine. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” I continued carefully, “that maybe Alonso isn’t the one pulling all the strings. Maybe he’s just as much a pawn in this as we are.”
The idea seemed absurd to even me but it could be a possibility. We had to consider every damn loophole there could be.
“No,” Alaric said firmly, shaking his head. “Alonso Cruz doesn’t play second fiddle to anyone. Whatever this is, he’s at the center of it.”
“But what if he isn’t?” I pressed, unwilling to let the thought go. “What if Jonas used him, manipulated him? That deal we found-it could’ve been a way to keep Alonso in line, to control him.”
Alaric’s jaw tightened, his eyes blazing with frustration. “And what about the things Alonso has done since then? The kidnappings, the threats? Those aren’t the actions of a man being controlled.”
“Maybe not,” I admitted. “But it doesn’t explain why he’s trying to make peace now. Why he’s reaching out to me.”
Alaric stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room. “You’re giving him too much credit, Emilia. Alonso isn’t some tragic victim. He’s dangerous, manipulative, and he will destroy anyone who gets in his way.”
“Even if that’s true,” I said, my voice rising slightly, “we can’t ignore the possibility that there’s more to this story. We need to look at everything, not just what fits the narrative we’ve already decided on.”
He stopped, turning to face me. For a moment, I thought he might argue, but then his shoulders sagged slightly, the fight draining out of him.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “We need to follow every lead, no matter how unlikely it seems.”
The fact that he agreed so easily surprised me but I nodded in relief. “Thank you.”
Alaric crossed the room and sat beside me, his hand brushing mine. “I don’t trust Alonso,” he said, his voice low. “But I trust you. If you think this is worth pursuing, I’ll back you up.”
His words sent a warmth spreading through my chest, a rare moment of unity in the chaos that had consumed our lives.
“Let’s keep digging,” I said, determination hardening my voice. “There’s more to this, Alaric. I can feel it.”