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Emilia’s POV
The park had started to empty out, the sun already setting. I sat on a bench, watching Francesca dart between the swings and the slides, her face lit up with a kind of pure, unbridled joy I hadn’t seen in a while. It was infectious, and despite the little argument between Alaric and me earlier, I found myself smiling.
Alaric was standing a few feet away, his eyes following Francesca with a mix of protectiveness and something softer that I couldn’t quite place. There was no trace of the coldness and bitterness I had seen in him earlier. And even if his words really stung me, I understood. He looked… different here. More at ease, less like the ruthless mafia leader I’d come to know and more like just a man—a father watching his daughter. I couldn’t help but wonder who he
