208

208
Emilia’s POV
The package sat on the dining table, wrapped in elegant gold paper and tied with a satin bow. Francesca bounced on her toes, her small frame radiating excitement.
“Can I open it now, Emilia? Please?”
I hesitated, glancing at the doorway where I knew Alaric would appear any moment. My stomach twisted at the thought of his reaction. This wasn’t just any gift-it was from Alonso.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” I said softly, smoothing down her curls. Francesca’s joy was infectious, and I couldn’t bear to ruin it for her.
Her tiny fingers worked quickly to tear the paper, revealing a sleek black box. She opened it with a gasp, pulling out a beautiful, hand-carved wooden horse. The craftsmanship was impeccable, every detail perfect, from the delicate reins to the smooth finish of the wood.
“It’s so pretty!” Francesca exclaimed, holding it up for me to see. “Look, Emilia! It’s like the ponies in my storybook!”
I forced a smile, though my chest felt tight. “It’s beautiful, love. Do you like it?”
“I love it!” She clutched the horse to her chest, spinning around the room with delight.
Her happiness dimmed the moment Alaric appeared in the doorway. His eyes zeroed in on the wooden horse, his expression darkening like a thundercloud.
“Where did that come from?” he demanded, his voice low and hard.
Francesca froze, her gaze darting between us. “It’s a present,” she said softly, holding up the horse. “Isn’t it pretty?”
Alaric’s jaw clenched, and he turned his attention to me. “Alonso sent this?”
I nodded, meeting his gaze with defiance. “Yes, he did.”
“This is manipulation,” he bit out, his tone sharp. “He’s using her to get to you.”
“Alaric,” I began, keeping my voice calm for Francesca’s sake, “it’s a gift. That’s all.”
“It’s never just a gift with him.” His eyes burned with restrained fury.
Francesca’s lip trembled, and she clutched the horse tighter. “Why are you mad, Daddy? Don’t you like it?”
His expression softened immediately, and he crouched down to her level, brushing a hand over her hair. “I’m not mad at you, sweetheart,” he said gently. “It’s a lovely horse. But sometimes, people give gifts for reasons that aren’t nice.”
She frowned, her confusion evident. “But it’s just a toy. Why would that be bad?”
“It’s complicated,” I said softly, kneeling beside her. “But the most important thing is that you like it.”
Her smile returned, and she hugged the horse to her chest. “I do! Can I keep it?”
Alaric hesitated, his eyes flicking to mine. I knew the war raging inside him, the part of him that wanted to shield her from Alonso’s influence versus the part that couldn’t bear to see her unhappy.
Finally, he nodded. “You can keep it,” he said, his tone heavy. “But only because you love it.”
Francesca beamed, throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Daddy! I’ll take good care of it.”
He held her tightly for a moment before letting her go. She ran off to her room, the sound of her giggles trailing behind her.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Alaric straightened, his expression hardening again. “This is exactly what Alonso wants,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “He’s trying to worm his way into her life-and yours.”
I folded my arms, meeting his gaze head-on. “Do you really think Alonso is plotting something sinister with a wooden horse? Maybe he just wanted to make his granddaughter happy.”
“Granddaughter?” Alaric laughed bitterly. “He doesn’t deserve that title, Emilia. Not after everything he’s done.”
“Stop it,” I said firmly, my voice rising. “I understand you don’t trust him, but Francesca doesn’t see him as a monster. She sees a man who sent her a thoughtful gift. Are you really going to take that from her?”
Alaric’s nostrils flared, and he turned away, pacing the room like a caged animal. “You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment,” he said finally.
“And you’re letting your hatred blind you,” I countered.
We stared at each other, the tension crackling like a live wire. Finally, he exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.
“She’s too young to understand what’s at stake,” he said, his voice softer now. “But we’re not. And we can’t let him get too close.”
“I’m not asking you to trust him,” I said quietly. “But can we at least let Francesca enjoy her gift without turning it into a battlefield?”
His shoulders sagged slightly, the storm in his eyes easing just a fraction. “Fine,” he said, though his tone made it clear the matter was far from over.
Alaric’s POV
The sight of that damn horse burned in my mind long after Francesca had gone to bed. Its perfect craftsmanship wasn’t a simple gesture-it was a message. Alonso never acted without motive.
I sat in my office, the silence pressing down on me as I stared at the glass of whiskey in my hand. Emilia didn’t see it, but I did. This was the first move in whatever game Alonso was playing.
The door creaked open, and Emilia stepped inside. Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable.
“You’re still brooding,” she said, her tone light but edged with exasperation.
I didn’t respond, taking a sip of my drink instead.
She moved closer, her eyes narrowing. “What is it about that horse that bothers you so much? Is it just because it’s from Alonso, or is there something more?”
“It’s not the gift itself,” I admitted, setting the glass down. “It’s the intent behind it. He doesn’t give without expecting something in return.”
“And what do you think he wants from Francesca?” she asked, her tone challenging.
“Not her. Not yet.” My jaw tightened. “But it’s a start. A way to plant doubt, to make her think he’s someone she can trust. And once that seed is planted, it’s only a matter of time before he tries to use it against us.”
She sighed, sitting across from me. “I get it, Alaric. I really do. But Francesca doesn’t see manipulation or strategy. She sees a gift that makes her happy.”
“That’s exactly why it works,” I said bitterly.
Emilia reached across the desk, her hand brushing against mine. “We can’t protect her from everything. But we can teach her to recognize what’s real and what’s not. That starts by letting her find joy where she can.”
Her words chipped away at my defenses, though the anger still simmered. I hated Alonso for forcing me into this position, for making me doubt every small moment of happiness in my daughter’s life.
“I’m trying,” I said quietly, my voice rough. “But it’s hard. Every time I think of him, all I want is to rip him out of our lives completely.”
“I know,” Emilia said softly. “But he’s a part of my past, and now, whether we like it or not, he’s a part of Francesca’s. We don’t have to trust him, but we do have to navigate this together.”
Her words settled something in me, though I knew my current calmness wouldn’t last if Alonso pushed too far. If he ever threatened my family again, I wouldn’t hesitate to remind him who he was dealing with.