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Emilia’s POV
I sat across from Alaric in the study, my palms damp against the smooth arms of the leather chair. His cold, calculating demeanor was as familiar as ever, but tonight, it only bothered me more than it really should. I’ve been rehearsing this conversation in my head for days, but now that I was here, all the confidence I had gathered up was gone.
“I’ve been thinking,” I started, my voice quieter than I wanted it to. I cleared my throat and sat up straighter, trying to meet his sharp gaze. “About Alonso.”
Alaric’s jaw tightened almost immediately, but his expression didn’t change. “What about him?” he asked, his voice low and steady, the warning clear.
I swallowed hard, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy. I already knew the outcome of this conversation, but still I had to try. “I think we should try to talk to him. Maybe… mend things.”
His laugh was short and humorless. It was a bitter sound that reminded me of the stone cold, bloody side of Alaric. I hated it. “Mend things? With Alonso?” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his eyes narrowing. “Are you out of your mind, Emilia?”
“No, I’m not,” I said, my tone firm now. I crossed my arms stubbornly, and he raised a brow in challenge. “I know what he did to me. I know how much damage he’s caused-to both of us. But he’s still-” My voice faltered, and I looked down at my thighs. “He’s my father.”
Alaric’s silence was heavy, and when I dared to look up at him, his eyes were like ice. “A father doesn’t do what Alonso did to you. A father doesn’t chain his daughter like a prisoner, doesn’t use her as a pawn in his power games.”
“I know,” I said quickly, the memory of that dark, suffocating room flashing through my mind. I pushed it aside, focusing on the man in front of me. “But I can’t change the fact that he’s my father. And I can’t ignore the fact that every time I think about him, it’s like… there’s this heavy weight I can’t shake.”
Alaric leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “And you think talking to him will lift that weight?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think it’s worth trying.”
He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re too soft, Emilia. You think you can fix everything with a conversation. Alonso doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. Hell, he doesn’t deserve your time.”
“This isn’t about forgiveness,” I said, my voice rising. “It’s about me. I need to do this for my own peace of mind.”
Alaric’s gaze hardened. “Peace of mind? Let me remind you what kind of man Alonso is. He didn’t just hurt you-he’s been at war with my family for years. He’s manipulative, ruthless, and he’ll destroy anything that gets in his way. You think he’ll sit down and have a heart-to-heart with you because you want closure? Don’t be naive.”
“I’m not being naive,” I shot back, anger bubbling to the surface. “I know who he is. But I also know who I am. And I can’t keep pretending that he doesn’t exist, that none of this affects me. If I don’t at least try to talk to him, I’ll always wonder what could’ve been said.”
Alaric stood, his movements sharp and deliberate, and walked to the window. His broad shoulders were stiff, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet but laced with steel. “You think Alonso cares about what you have to say? He doesn’t. He’ll see this as an opportunity to manipulate you, to use you against me. That’s what he’s always done, using people as pieces in his game.”
“This isn’t about you and Alonso,” I said, standing to face him. “This is about me.”
He turned to me, his eyes blazing. “It’s always about Alonso and me. You just happen to be caught in the middle. Don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise.”
I took a step closer, refusing to back down. “Maybe that’s true. Maybe I am caught in the middle. But that doesn’t mean I have to stay there. I have to take control of this, Alaric. For myself.”
His gaze softened for just a moment, and I saw the flicker of something-worry, maybe even fear-before the cold mask returned. “And what happens when he hurts you again? Because he will, Emilia. Alonso doesn’t know any other way.”
“I’m not asking you to trust him,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’m not even asking you to like this idea. But I need you to support me. Just this once.”
He stared at me, his jaw tight, and I could see all the gears turning in his head. . Alaric is not a man who forgives easily-or at all. Asking him to put aside his grudge against Alonso was like asking the sun not to rise. But I wasn’t going to back down. Not this time.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said finally, his voice low and flat. “But if this is what you need to do, I won’t stop you.”
Relief washed over me, but it was shortlived because I could still see the disapproval in his eyes. “Thank you,” I said quietly.
“But don’t expect me to sit at a table with him,” he added, his tone sharp. “I won’t pretend to play nice with a man who’s caused so much pain.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I said. “I just need you to understand why I have to do this.”
He nodded once, but his expression didn’t soften. “Just don’t come crying to me when he shows his true colors again. You’re on your own with this, Emilia.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him that I wasn’t expecting a fairy tale ending, that I knew the risks. But I also knew that pushing him further would only make things worse. So instead, I nodded and stepped back, giving him the space he needed.
I began to walk out of the room, but I stopped, turning to him once more. “He won’t hurt me. Okay? I promise,” I said quietly, but he didn’t say anything. His back only stiffened further. I took that as my cue to leave.