284

284
Emilia’s POV
I exhaled, slow and steady, forcing my heartbeat to settle. My hands were still curled into fists at my sides, but the sharp edges of my anger had dulled, leaving me very exhausted.
Alonso had gone quiet. Alaric, too.
They were both thinking of the ultimatum, I was sure of it.
I wasn’t going to repeat myself. I had laid it all out-either they figured out a way to tolerate each other, or they lost me. I meant every word.
I wrapped my arms around my stomach, my body still thrumming from the adrenaline. My child’s future was at stake. I refused to let them grow up trapped between two men who refused to let go of the past.
Finally, Alonso inhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “So that’s it? You’re threatening to cut me out of your life unless I… what? Accept this marriage? Accept him?” His voice was rough, tinged with something I couldn’t quite place.
I held his gaze, unwavering. “Yes.”
Alonso let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “You expect me to suddenly be okay with this? To smile and pretend that none of this matters?”
“I don’t need you to smile,” I said, my voice steady. “I don’t need you to pretend. But I do need you to get over yourself long enough to understand that this-us-is happening whether you like it or not.”
Alonso’s jaw ticked. His fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to punch something.
Alaric crossed his arms. “She’s right,” he said. “This isn’t about you anymore.”
Alonso’s glare snapped to him. “Don’t you dare act like you’re the victim in this.”
“I never said I was.” Alaric’s voice was sharp. “But we both know you don’t hate me. You hate my father. And he’s dead.”
Alonso stiffened.
I swallowed. I had been waiting for someone to say it out loud.
Jonas was dead. Gone. The man responsible for destroying both of their lives-the man who had kidnapped me, raped and killed my birth mom, and left behind nothing but ruin-was nothing more than dust in the ground.
And yet the consequences of his actions was still dictating our futures like a ghost that refused to rest.
Alonso ran a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the room like he was trying to outrun his own thoughts. “I will never forgive him,” he said finally, his voice quieter now.
Alaric’s expression remained unreadable. “I’m not asking you to.”
Alonso turned back to me, eyes dark, calculating. “And what about you?”
I blinked. “What about me?”
“You were taken away from me.” Alonso said, nodding toward Alaric. “You should hate everything he stands for. And now you’re standing here, telling me you’re marrying him.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “How do you live with that?”
I inhaled sharply. “Because I know the truth now. And the truth is, Alaric isn’t his father. Just like I’m not the little girl who was stolen anymore. People change, Dad. We grow.”
Alonso didn’t say anything.
For a moment, I thought maybe I had gotten through to him. That maybe, just maybe, he understood.
But then his expression hardened.
“You want my blessing?” His voice was cold. “Fine. You have it.”
My breath caught.
Alaric stilled beside me.
“But let’s get one thing straight.” Alonso’s gaze flickered to Alaric, sharp as a blade. “I will never forgive you.”
Alaric exhaled slowly, his expression giving away nothing. “I don’t need your forgiveness.”
“Good.” Alonso’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “Because you’ll never have it.”
The tension in the room shifted, no longer the violent, crackling rage from before, but something… settled. Not peace, not entirely, but an understanding. A begrudging truce.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
I should have been happy.
I was happy but I was also wary. He hadn’t fully forgiven Jonas, or hated Alaric less.
Even as Alonso reluctantly accepted my decision, I could see it in his eyes-the bitterness, the lingering resentment. It would never truly go away.
Alaric must have seen it too because he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You know, I wasn’t expecting you to walk me down the aisle or anything, but I figured you’d at least fake it a little better than this.”
Alonso scoffed. “I have no interest in playing happy families with you, boy.”
“Shame,” Alaric mused. “I was really looking forward to father-son bonding time.”
Alonso narrowed his eyes. “Say that again and I will shoot you.”
I groaned. “Jesus Christ, both of you-can we not?”
Alaric smirked at me, but there was something softer in his eyes now, like the worst of it had passed. Like, despite everything, he was relieved.
I turned back to Alonso, my voice gentler now. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”
Alonso’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“I don’t expect you to forgive the past,” I continued. “But I do expect you to be there. For me. For your grandchild.” My throat tightened. “I want my child to have a family. A real one. No more wars, no more hatred. Just… us.”
Alonso exhaled sharply. His shoulders slumped, just slightly. “You’re asking for a lot.”
I nodded. “I know.”
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, finally, his expression shifted-just a fraction, just enough. “I will try.”
It wasn’t perfect but at least ut was enough, just for now.
I smiled, the heaviness in my chest lifting just a little. “Good.”
Alonso turned to Alaric, his gaze still sharp, still filled with something dark and unyielding. “Hurt her, and I’ll kill you.”
Alaric didn’t even flinch. “Noted.”
Alonso stared at him for a moment longer before turning back to me. “You should go.”
I hesitated. “Will you be okay?”
His jaw tightened. “Go,” he said again, but there was no heat behind it this time.
I nodded and reached for Alaric’s hand. He took it without hesitation, his grip warm and steady, as we turned to leave.
Just as we reached the door, Alonso spoke again.
“Emilia.”
I paused, glancing back over my shoulder.
His eyes softened, just slightly. “Congratulations.”
My heart clenched.
I smiled. “Thank you, Dad.”