Chapter 4 : Quite warning
1621 Words
Elara stood at the far end of the east balcony, her hands resting on the cold iron railing. The moonlight bathed the estate gardens below in silver, but she barely noticed. Her heart had been uneasy all evening — something unspoken had hung in the air at dinner, even though she hadn’t been invited to it.
When footsteps approached behind her, she didn’t need to turn. She already knew it was Rafael.
“Why do you always find me when I need you the most?” she asked softly, her eyes never leaving the horizon.
“Because I know where you hide,” he said gently. He stopped beside her and slipped his fingers through hers.
“Elara,” he said, voice calm but edged with nervousness, “we’ve chosen the date.”
She turned slowly to face him. “Date?”
He met her gaze, not letting go of her hand. “Our engagement ceremony. It will be held in three days.”
Elara blinked. “Three...?”
“I know it’s fast,” he said quickly, “but I didn’t want to wait. I want the world to know. I want you to feel safe here. With me. Not just hidden in corners and shadows.”
Her lips parted, but no words came. Three days. That wasn’t time to breathe, let alone prepare. And yet, a tiny part of her — the part that had always longed for him — fluttered with joy.
“Does your family…” she began, then stopped. “Do they really agree to this?”
“They’re not all happy,” Rafael admitted. “But they’re not stopping it.”
Elara looked down, her voice barely a whisper. “That’s not the same as support.”
Rafael cupped her cheek. “My mother stood up for you tonight. And my grandfather, in his own way, isn’t fighting this. That’s already more than I expected.”
“And your father?” she asked.
Rafael sighed. “He hasn’t said much. But knowing him, silence doesn’t mean peace. It means he’s still thinking of ways to undo this. That’s why I’m making it official now — before he finds one.”
Elara tried to smile, but doubt lingered in her eyes. “I never imagined my engagement would feel like this. Like I’m standing on a tightrope, afraid to fall.”
“You’re not falling,” Rafael said firmly. “You’re flying. And I’ll be right beside you.”
Her eyes filled, tears catching in the corners. “Three days…”
He nodded, pulling her gently into his arms. “Three days. And you’ll be mine, Elara. In front of everyone. No more hiding. No more shame.”
And as she buried her face in his chest, she wished the world could stop spinning — just for a while — so she could stay in the warmth of this moment, before the storm returned.
The night had grown colder. Most of the house had gone still. But a single light glowed beneath the crack of Alessandro DeLuca’s door.
Rafael hesitated outside it, his fist raised to knock. Then he lowered it.
He didn’t need permission.
He pushed the door open slowly. The familiar scent of cedar and old cigars met him, and across the room, his grandfather sat by the fire again — same chair, same glass of untouched scotch, same unreadable expression.
Alessandro didn’t turn his head. “Didn’t your father teach you to knock?”
“He did,” Rafael said, stepping in. “But I figured you’d expect me.”
Alessandro looked up, a playful glint in his eye. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Rafael smirked but didn’t sit. “Came to remind you that I’m not backing down from this engagement. No matter what the family says.”
“Ah, the stubbornness of youth,” Alessandro said with a teasing smile. “You really think you can change the old ways overnight?”
Rafael rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to change the world, just my own life.”
Alessandro chuckled softly. “And here I thought you were just here to entertain me with your drama.”
“Entertain yourself all you want, grandpa,” Rafael shot back. “But don’t expect me to slow down for anyone.”
Alessandro raised an eyebrow. “Bold words. Let’s see how long that fire burns.”
Rafael took a step toward the door. “Long enough to make this right.”
He paused, looking back with a sharp grin. “And if you think you’ll stop me, better think twice.”
Alessandro’s playful smile deepened. “Oh, I’m not stopping you. Just enjoying the show.”
With that, Rafael left the room, door closing behind him with a soft but firm click.
_
Five minutes later, the door creaked open again.
Rafael stepped in, his tone different — still sharp, but less playful.
“Alright, old man. Let’s cut the act.”
Alessandro raised an eyebrow. “Back so soon? Change your mind already?”
“No. Just realized I might need an ally in this circus.”
Alessandro folded his hands, watching.
“My father isn’t going to listen to me. He respects you, though — more than he’d ever admit. If you told him to back off, maybe, just maybe, he’d actually do it.”
Alessandro smirked. “So, you want me to play peacemaker? Sounds like you’re finally learning that pride only gets you so far.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Rafael warned. “I’m only asking because I want Elara to have some peace. Not because I’m suddenly humble.”
“Peace, huh? Since when did you become such a softie?”
Rafael grinned. “Don’t push your luck.”
Alessandro leaned forward. “Fine. I’ll talk to your father. But only because I want this family to survive your nonsense.”
Rafael nodded. “That’s all I’m asking.”
As Rafael turned to leave again, Alessandro called after him.
“And try not to burn the place down before then.”
Rafael shot a glance over his shoulder. “No promises.”
He left the room with a confident stride — attitude intact, but with a new, quiet hope tucked beneath.
_
Morning light crept through the tall arched windows of the DeLuca estate, touching the marble floors with gold. The house was already buzzing with quiet conversations and preparations. The engagement date had been set, but the unease beneath the surface hadn’t settled.
Inside his private study, Domenic stood with a cup of coffee in hand, staring out the window. His mind was far away —
The knock at the door startled him.
“It’s open,” he said flatly.
Alessandro stepped in, his cane tapping softly against the floor. Domenic turned, surprised.
“You’re up early,” Domenic said.
Alessandro gave a dry smile. “I’m old. My bones don’t like sleeping in.”
“I figured we should talk,” Alessandro said simply, easing into the chair across from him without waiting for permission.
Domenic placed the cup on the table . “About the engagement.”
“About your son,” Alessandro corrected. “And your silence.”
Domenic leaned back, folding his arms. “I didn’t know my silence required explanation.”
“It does when it speaks louder than words.”
For a moment, only the ticking of the clock filled the space between them.
“You’re angry,” Alessandro said. “Fine. Be angry. But understand one thing — if you think ignoring this will make it disappear, you don’t know your son as well as I do.”
Domenic’s voice was sharp. “He’s making a mistake.”
“Maybe,” Alessandro replied. “But it’s his mistake to make. And if you force his hand, he will walk. He’ll leave this house and take that girl with him — and he won’t look back.”
“He’s blinded by her.”
“No,” Alessandro said firmly. “He’s chosen her.”
Domenic’s expression tightened, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “I’ve spent my life building this legacy. Preserving it. Now I’m expected to stand by while it’s handed to a servant’s daughter?”
“You’re expected to stand by your son,” Alessandro said coldly. “Or risk losing him. Is that legacy worth it if there’s no one left to carry it?”
Domenic looked away, jaw clenched.
Alessandro leaned forward. “You think I like this? You think I’m thrilled to see our bloodline diluted, our family name whispered in back rooms? I’m not. But I’d rather bend for Rafael than bury him in resentment.”
“And what happens when she proves she doesn’t belong?” Domenic asked. “When the whispers become truths?”
Alessandro shrugged. “Then he’ll learn. And he’ll suffer. But he’ll do it with his head high — because he followed his heart. And one day, when your son looks back, he’ll know he wasn’t alone in the storm.”
Domenic was silent.
“Don’t be the man who pushes his son away over pride,” Alessandro finished. “Be the father who stood behind him — even when the world didn’t.”
With that, Alessandro rose to his feet. “Two days,” he said over his shoulder. “That’s all the time you have to decide what kind of father you want to be at your son’s side.”
Then he left, leaving Domenic alone in the dim lamplight — a father caught between pride and blood, with nothing but silence to answer him.
- Writer
