195
Emilia’s POV
The package sat on the dining table like a live grenade, wrapped in pristine white paper and tied with an elegant gold ribbon. It was undeniably expensive. Alaric stared at it from across the room, his arms crossed over his chest, a muscle in his jaw ticking with unrestrained fury.
“This is how he operates,” Alaric muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “First letters, now gifts. He’s testing boundaries, trying to worm his way into your head.”
I ran my fingers over the ribbon, a knot forming in my stomach. The card attached bore only one word: Francesca.
“It’s not for me,” I said quietly, though my voice didn’t carry the conviction I wanted.
Alaric scoffed, stepping closer, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his anger. “Don’t be naïve, Emilia. It doesn’t matter w
