211

211
Emilia’s POV
I was folding Francesca’s tiny socks when the front door slammed so hard it rattled the walls. My heart jumped into my throat, but before I could process the noise, a whirlwind of fiery red hair and outrage swept into the room. Rosa.
“Emilia!” she bellowed, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she stormed toward me. She dropped her leather bag onto the floor, eyes blazing.
“Rosa?” I blinked, startled. “You’re back early-”
“Don’t you dare,” she snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Don’t even try to deflect, Emilia. You owe me an explanation, and you’re going to give it. Now.”
I froze mid-sock fold. “Explanation for what?”
Her hands flew to her hips, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t play dumb. I know everything. The kidnapping, Alonso, the whole insane ‘you’re-his-daughter’ revelation-everything. And you didn’t tell me?!”
I winced. Of course, she knew. Rosa had a knack for ferreting out information like a bloodhound. Still, the thought of explaining everything to her was almost as daunting as living through it.
“I was going to tell you,” I began carefully, setting the socks aside.
“Oh, really? When, exactly?” she demanded, her voice rising. “When Francesca started college? Or maybe after I was six feet under?”
“Rosa, calm down-”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” she snapped, pacing the room. “You were kidnapped, Emilia! And now some lunatic is claiming you’re his long-lost daughter? How am I supposed to calm down?”
I sighed, motioning toward the couch. “Sit down, and I’ll explain everything.”
She didn’t sit. Instead, she paced the room like a caged tiger, her heels clicking against the hardwood with each step.
“Rosa,” I said firmly. “Please. Sit.”
She finally flopped onto the couch, crossing her legs and fixing me with a glare. “Start talking. And it better be good.”
I sat across from her, taking a deep breath. “It all started the night of Alaric and I’s date…”
I laid it all out for her, every painful detail: the date, the ambush, the way they shot Alaric and left him to die, and being dumped in that cold, damp room. Rosa’s face darkened with every word.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “You’re telling me Alonso planned this whole thing? To kidnap you and-what-tell you you’re his daughter?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Apparently, he believes I’m Alessandra, his daughter.”
Rosa’s jaw dropped. “Alessandra? You? That’s insane!”
“Trust me, I know how it sounds,” I said. “But the way he talked… he was so convinced. He had pictures, Rosa. Old ones. Of this woman-my supposed mother. And she did look like me. Almost exactly like me.”
Rosa stared at me, her face a mix of disbelief and fury. “And you believe him?”
“I don’t know what to believe,” I admitted. “Part of me wants to dismiss it as another one of his manipulations. But what if he’s telling the truth?”
“What if he’s not?” she shot back, leaning forward. “Emilia, this man is dangerous. You can’t let him get into your head like this.”
“I don’t have a choice!” I exclaimed, my voice trembling. “He’s not just some mafia boss, Rosa. He’s my father. Or at least, he thinks he is.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did Alaric know about this?”
“Yes,” I said quietly.
“And Allesio?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
She shot to her feet, her fists clenched. “Those bastards! They knew, and they let you face this alone?!”
“They didn’t let me face anything alone,” I said, standing to meet her glare. “They’re the reason I’m here, alive, and safe.”
“Safe?” she echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You call this safe? Emilia, you were kidnapped. If they were doing their jobs, it never would’ve happened.”
“Rosa-”
“No,” she snapped, pacing again. “This is unacceptable. They’re supposed to protect you, and they failed. Miserably.”
“They’re not perfect,” I said, my voice rising. “But they did everything they could. They almost risked their lives to bring me back.”
“Almost?” She scoffed and shook her head. “And what about Alonso?” she demanded, whirling to face me. “What’s their plan for him? Because if they think they’re just going to let him walk away after everything he’s done-”
“There are,” I said firmly. “If Alonso is my father. Then none of you are going to do anything about it. Besides men like Alonso never disappear quickly.
She scoffed. “Of course not. Men like him never do. Which is why someone needs to put him down for good.”
“Rosa, please,” I said, my voice softening. “I know you’re angry. I am too. But this isn’t something we can solve with violence.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Says the woman living in a house full of mafia men.”
“That’s different,” I said, though even I wasn’t sure how.
She shook her head, muttering something under her breath in Italian.
Alaric chose that time to walk into the room and Rosa’s temper had reached a boiling point.
“You,” she said, pointing a finger at him like an accusation.
Alaric froze, his sharp eyes narrowing. “What about me?”
“You let her get kidnapped,” she said, her voice dangerously low.
Alaric’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t let anything happen.”
“No? Then what would you call it?” she demanded, stalking toward him.
“Rosa, stop,” I said, stepping between them.
But she was on a roll. “You were supposed to protect her. You’re supposed to be the best, and yet here we are, discussing how Alonso managed to snatch her right out from under your nose.”
Alaric’s gaze flicked to me, and I could see the guilt simmering beneath his stoic facade. “I made a mistake,” he said quietly. “But I won’t make it again.”
“Damn right you won’t,” Rosa snapped. “Because if you do, you’ll answer to me.”
Alaric’s lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile. “Noted.”
“And Allesio,” she added, rounding on him as he entered the room. “You’re just as guilty.”
Allesio raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Guilty of what?”
“Of failing Emilia,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest.
“Rosa,” I said firmly. “Enough.”
She turned to me, her eyes still blazing. “Fine. But don’t think this is over.”
Alaric and Allesio exchanged a look, both of them wisely choosing to stay silent.
She eyed them both like she wanted nothing more than to bury them six feet under, but she turned away and stalked to her room.
“Sorry about her,” I said softly.
He shook his head. “Don’t be. She’s not wrong.”
“Alaric…”
“I failed you, Emilia,” he said, his voice heavy. “And I won’t forgive myself for it.”
“You didn’t fail me,” I said, taking his hand. “You were ready to risk it all for me. And that’s what matters.”
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a vulnerability he rarely showed. “I won’t let it happen again. I promise.”
“I know,” I said, leaning into him. “I trust you.”