All Chapters of The Mafia's Nanny : Chapter 281 - Chapter 290

282Emilia’s POV The drive to Alonso’s house was tense. Alaric sat beside me, silent and brooding, his fingers tapping against his thigh. I knew he didn’t want to be here. He thought this was pointless. But I didn’t care.We needed answers. All the puzzle pieces were scattered, and I was tired of trying to put them together blindly.When we arrived, Alonso was already waiting for us outside, arms crossed, expression unreadable.“This is unexpected,” he said, glancing between us. “What’s going on?”I didn’t waste time. “We need to talk. Inside.”He studied me for a moment, then nodded, stepping aside to let us in.Alaric followed reluctantly, his entire body radiating frustration. He had made it clear that he didn’t trust Alonso, even after everything. And honestly, I couldn’t blame him. Their history was drenched in too much blood.We sat in the living room, the tension a little bit too thick between us. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.“We know Jonas was the one who

284Emilia’s POVI 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

286Emilia’s POVI didn’t speak to him.Not when we left Alonso’s house. Not in the car. Not when we got home.I walked straight past him, up the stairs, and into our bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I wasn’t even sure why I was so angry. Maybe it was the betrayal. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the fact that every time I thought I finally knew everything about the man I loved, another secret came crawling out of the dark.I paced the room, my thoughts tangled in knots.Francesca.Not his daughter. Not biologically, at least.Dominic’s.And I had saved her. Me. Three years ago, without even realizing it.A knock sounded at the door. “Emilia.”I ignored him.The handle turned, and he stepped inside cautiously, as if he thought I might throw something at his head. A tempting idea.“Emilia, please.” His voice was quiet, tired. “Can we talk?”I folded my arms. “Oh, now you want to talk?”His jaw tensed. “I always wanted to tell you.”“Then why didn’t you?” I shot back.

288Emilia’s POV*TWO MONRHS LATER*I groaned, flopping back onto the couch in frustration. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”Rosa smirked, tossing a handful of tiny white pearls into my lap. “Because you love Alaric, and apparently, that means torturing yourself with a wedding.”“Right?” I grabbed one of the pearls and flicked it at her. “Seriously, why is this so hard? It’s just a dress.”“Just a dress?” She gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Excuse me? It is the dress, Emilia. The one you’ll remember forever. The one you’ll look back on in pictures and either sob in happiness or cringe in regret.”“Okay, thanks for the pressure,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.Rosa grabbed my arm, yanking me up. “Enough whining. We’re finding your dress today. Period.”“Fine,” I grumbled. “But if I die in a pile of lace, tell Alaric I love him.”She dragged me toward the changing rooms, rolling her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”Two hours later, I was so close to setting an entire brida

290Rosa’s POVI hated overthinking.It was exhausting, annoying, and worst of all—it was usually right.I told myself lately I wouldn’t do it with Allesio. I wouldn’t pick apart his words, analyze his tone, or decode his every blink like some detective looking for clues to a crime that hadn’t happened yet.But tonight?Tonight, my instincts were screaming.And the worst part? I couldn’t even pinpoint why.I sat on the kitchen stool, watching him move around like nothing was wrong. His back was to me, broad shoulders flexing under his black shirt as he flipped something in the pan. Chicken, I thought vaguely.“You’ve been quiet all evening,” Allesio said without turning around. His voice was casual, too casual. “Did I do something?”My stomach twisted, but I forced a small smile. “No. Just tired.”It wasn’t a lie, technically. I was tired. Tired of this nagging feeling I had been pushing down all week.Something was off.It wasn’t anything obvious—not enough for someone else to notice