Chapter 5

Alaric’s POV Emilia had surprised me, and it took a lot to do that. Most people I dealt with were quick to nod, to obey, and to walk away as fast as they could manage. But Emilia? No, she had come back with demands of her own. The moment she’d lifted her chin, fire in her eyes, and laid out her terms, I’d felt an unexpected flicker of admiration. I watched her closely from my office, just across the hall. Through the glass door, I could see her kneeling on the floor, surrounded by a sea of crayons and papers, fully engaged in whatever imaginary world my daughter had conjured up. Francesca had always been spirited, a handful even on her best days, but in Emilia’s presence, she softened. She was calm, happy even, and that made me feel lighter. Emilia was resourceful. She didn’t waste time coddling Francesca, but instead, she encouraged her to express herself, to chatter away about every little thought that crossed her mind. She listened intently, nodding at all the right times, reacting with genuine interest. And she was good at it. No one else could hold my daughter’s attention like that for so long. A low chuckle escaped me. It was odd to feel amusement while simply observing them. Most of my day was filled with numbers, territory disputes, or the kind of tasks that kept my organization running smoothly. But right now, the scene in front of me seemed like something out of a storybook: Emilia, the girl who’d dared to strike a deal with a mafia don, sitting on the floor like a makeshift princess, entertaining my daughter with a sincerity that made me almost forget how we’d ended up here. But I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. Not yet. Emilia was here under my terms—mostly, anyway—and I needed to know that she would hold up her end. Despite her fire, there was something vulnerable about her. That vulnerability, the desperation I’d glimpsed when she’d negotiated, had only sharpened my curiosity. When I assured myself that Emilia won’t run off in the night, with my daughter, I walked back to my desk and buried myself in work. I had woken up in the office this morning, and gone to Francesca’s room, the normal routine, only to find she and Emilia all cuddled up on Francesca’s bed. I had left them there and gone back to my office. And now I was watching them. Emilia was attentive to Francesca’s every need, guiding her to breakfast, reminding her to brush her hair, even laughing at her silly little jokes. She’d taken to the role naturally, as if she’d done it a hundred times before, and Francesca thrived on her attention. I didn’t miss the way her laughter filled the halls, a sound I hadn’t realized I’d missed. After breakfast, I made my way downstairs, passing Allesio in the hallway. “Any issues with Emilia?” I asked, keeping my voice low. Allesio shook his head. “None, boss. She’s… good with Francesca. Surprisingly good.” I gave him a nod, though I already knew it myself. “Have a car ready in an hour. I’ll need you to drive me somewhere.” “Yes, boss.” Once the hour passed, I was seated in the backseat of one of our cars, Allesio at the wheel, weaving through the early morning traffic of the city. I wasn’t usually one to check up on people; it wasn’t my style. But Emilia’s situation was unique, and if I was going to keep my end of the bargain, I wanted to see the details myself. Soon, we pulled up to the hospital where her brother was admitted. I’d had the information about his condition sent over to me the previous evening—suffice it to say, it was a grim situation. As we stepped out, the brisk morning air hit me, and I adjusted my coat, bracing myself against the sterile chill of the hospital halls. Inside, everything smelled faintly of antiseptic. People moved about quietly, heads down, preoccupied with their own worries. This world of waiting rooms and beeping monitors was unfamiliar to me, and it wasn’t a place I would normally find myself. But for today, I made an exception. I found his room easily enough. Her brother lay on the bed, hooked up to a myriad of machines, pale and unconscious. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like, day in and day out, to visit someone you cared about in a place like this, to watch them fade, helpless to change their situation. A nurse entered quietly, barely sparing me a glance as she checked his vitals. I turned to her, clearing my throat. “What’s his current condition?” She looked up, startled to see me standing there. “Are you family?” Her voice was skeptical, but I could see her curiosity warring with her professionalism. “In a manner of speaking,” I replied, my voice calm. She hesitated, then glanced back at the guy. “He’s stable, for now. But without the proper treatment, his condition will only deteriorate. It’s a question of time.” Time, I mused. For me, time was always on my side. I could buy it, bend it, use it to my advantage. For Emilia, time was the enemy. She’d watched it slip away, tightening the noose around her brother’s fate. And that, I supposed, was why she’d agreed to work for me. I looked back at the guy, his features soft and vulnerable against the harsh lines of the hospital bed. This was why Emilia had negotiated so fiercely, why she’d dared to challenge me. She hadn’t asked for luxury or comfort—only for her brother’s chance at life. It struck me then that she wasn’t like the others who’d tried to bargain with me. She didn’t care for wealth or power. Her only currency was love, and she’d traded everything she had for it. “Thank you,” I said to the nurse, who seemed surprised by my words but nodded nonetheless. I watched her leave before stepping closer to the bed, studying the guy one last time. Then, without another word, I turned and walked back out into the hallway, signaling Allesio to follow. “Handle the bills,” I instructed him as we made our way back to the car. “Everything he needs. And make sure there’s no issue with his treatment moving forward.” Allesio didn’t hesitate. “Yes, boss.” As the car started back toward my home, I leaned back, contemplating. I’d kept my end of the deal, and I knew Emilia would keep hers. But as I thought about her, standing her ground in my office with that determined look in her eye, I realized something unexpected—I admired her stubbornness and determination. The woman had guts, a fierce loyalty that burned brighter than anything I’d seen in a long time. By the time I arrived back at my estate, the house was quiet. Francesca was likely still engaged with her morning activities, and Emilia would be by her side, guiding her, laughing with her. As I approached Francesca’s playroom, I caught sight of them through the partially open door. Emilia sat on the floor, cross-legged, her focus entirely on my daughter as they worked on some kind of art project together. Francesca’s head was bent low in concentration, and Emilia’s smile was soft, genuine, as she guided my daughter’s small hands through the motions. Watching them, I felt a pang of… something I couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t jealousy or longing, but a recognition of what Francesca had missed, what I had kept away from her all these years. Emilia was exactly what Francesca needed, even if she didn’t know it yet. She’d give Francesca the stability I had never been able to provide, and she’d do it with the same fierce determination that had driven her to negotiate with me in the first place. As I remained by the door, watching them, I realized something: Emilia might be here because of our agreement, but she wasn’t just a pawn. She was a formidable piece on the board, one I intended to keep close. There was strength in her, an unwavering loyalty, and I knew that, as long as her brother’s life depended on me, that loyalty would extend to Francesca as well. Turning away from the doorway, I headed back to my office. I had a business – an empire – to run, and while the warmth of that scene tugged at some forgotten corner of my mind, I knew better than to dwell on it. I walked into my office and slammed the door shut. Emilia was under my protection now, for better or worse. And as long as she held up her end, I would ensure her brother was taken care of, no questions asked. But this wasn’t charity—this was an agreement, one I expected her to uphold without hesitation. And if she ever forgot the terms, well… I’d be there to remind her. But somehow, I didn’t think she would.