Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Emilia’s POV

The next morning, I lean against the kitchen counter, staring at the steaming plate of food Lucia has prepared. The aroma wafts up, but my appetite has long disappeared.

“She can start eating today, right?” I ask, though it’s more of a statement than a question.

Lucia nods, her hands deftly arranging the tray. “The doctor said light meals are fine.”

I hesitate, watching her carefully place the utensils next to the plate. “Do you think she’ll actually eat it?”

Lucia gives me a knowing look, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Leave that to me.”

I sigh, brushing a hand through my hair. “I don’t know... She won’t even talk to me. Why would she take anything I offer?”

Lucia steps forward, her kind eyes meeting mine. “Miss Emilia, sometimes people need time. She’s scared and hurt. Let me take care of this. Trust me.”

I nod reluctantly, stepping aside as she picks up the tray. “Thank you, Lucia.”

---

As I walk through the house later, the faint hum of conversation reaches my ears. It’s coming from Valeria’s room.

I slow my pace, curiosity pulling me closer. Standing just outside the door, I hear it—her laugh.

It’s not a sharp or bitter laugh like before. It’s soft, warm... genuine.

Something stirs in my chest, a strange mix of emotions. Relief, because she’s not completely broken. And something else—something bitter and sharp that I don’t want to acknowledge.

She’s laughing with Lucia.

I lean against the doorframe, careful to stay out of sight, and listen to their conversation.

“You can’t tell me you’ve never tried making tamales!” Lucia exclaims, her tone light and teasing.

Valeria laughs again, the sound softer this time. “I’m pretty sure the ones I tried to make could double as bricks. Cesar wouldn’t even touch them.”

“Oh, that poor boy. You can tell him Tía Lucia will make him tasty tamales when she meets him,” Lucia says warmly.

My stomach twists. Valeria told her about Cesar? And she’s willing to let her meet him?

“Now he’ll love you more than me,” Valeria pouts jokingly. “That won’t work.”

Lucia chuckles. “Well, maybe once you’re better, I’ll teach you how to make them properly. It’s easier than it looks, I promise.”

I peek around the corner, just enough to see them. Valeria is sitting up slightly, a faint smile on her bruised face as Lucia places the tray in front of her. She doesn’t look tense or guarded.

She looks... human.

I press my back against the wall, a lump forming in my throat. How is it so easy for her to talk to Lucia? To laugh with her?

I want to be happy that Valeria is letting her walls down, even if it’s not with me. But it’s hard not to feel the sting of envy.

I stay there for a moment longer, listening to their conversation. It’s light, effortless. It’s everything I want but can’t seem to have with her.

I walk away from Valeria’s room, my heart heavy. It shouldn’t bother me, how easily she laughs with Lucia, but it does. I thought bringing her here would mean she’d at least try to trust me. Yet every attempt I make feels like I’m hitting a brick wall.

As I step into the garden, the familiar scent of freshly cut grass greets me. That’s when I spot Adrien, leaning against his wheelbarrow and wiping the sweat off his brow.

“Adrien!” I call out, my voice carrying over the stillness of the morning.

He looks up, his weathered face breaking into a kind smile as he approaches. “Miss Emilia. What can I do for you?”

I glance over my shoulder toward the house, then turn back to him. “I need you to buy something for me.”

“Of course,” he replies without hesitation. “Anything you need.”

I smile faintly, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Perfect. Here, this is what I need.”

Adrien takes the paper, glancing at it briefly before nodding. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you, Adrien,” I say softly.

He tips his cap and heads toward the gate. I watch him leave, my thoughts already spinning.

Valeria’s POV

The bed is too soft. The walls are too pristine. Everything about this place feels wrong—too polished, too... unfamiliar.

I sit up slowly, my body still aching from the beating I endured. My eyes wander to the window, where the light streams in, casting long shadows on the floor. My mind races with one thought: How do I get out of here?

My fingers twitch at the edge of the blanket. I can’t stay here. I don’t belong here. Dominic will find me eventually, and when he does, no gilded cage will protect me.

A knock on the door jolts me from my thoughts. My body tenses instinctively.

Before I can say anything, the door creaks open, and she walks in. Emilia.

She closes the door behind her, carrying a small box in her hands. Without a word, she sits down in the chair next to the bed, placing the box beside me.

I stare at it, then at her. “What the hell is this?”

Her expression is soft, almost shy. “It’s a gift. Open it.”

I scoff, crossing my arms despite the dull ache in my ribs. “Which part of ‘I want nothing to do with you’ don’t you understand?”

She doesn’t flinch, her gaze steady. “I understand perfectly,” she says calmly. “But I still want you to have it.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” I say flatly, glaring at the box on the bed. “Take your box and get out.”

Emilia sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. Instead of leaving, she opens the box, pulls out a small pocketknife, and places it gently on the table beside me.

I frown, looking between the knife and her. “What is this?”

She meets my gaze, her voice soft but steady. “It’s a gift. I thought... you might feel safer having it. That it might give you some sense of control.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Control? Do you think when Dominic’s men come for me, a knife is going to save me?”

Her expression doesn’t waver. “Dominic and his men aren’t coming for you. No one will hurt you again because I won’t let them. This knife... it’s not for them. It’s for you. For your own safety in this room.”

I narrow my eyes at her, my suspicion growing.

“You can use it for anything you need,” she continues, her tone resolute. “You can even use it against me if you want. This knife is a symbol of trust. It shows that I trust you enough to have a weapon, and I hope that one day, you’ll trust me too.”

I snort, shaking my head. “If you really want me to trust you, stop acting like you know what I need or what I’ve been through. Stop pretending you understand. If you want me to trust you, let me leave. Let me get out of this house.”

Her face falls slightly, but she straightens, her voice calm. “You’re not a prisoner here, Valeria. You’re my guest. You’re here for your safety. I have guards to protect you.”

“Those guards didn’t stop you from getting kidnapped,” I snap, my tone biting. “For all you know, they’re the reason you got kidnapped. How else did Dominic know where you were going? Which route you were taking?”

Her silence is telling, her jaw tightening as my words hit their mark.

“You live in this perfect little bubble,” I continue, my voice rising with frustration. “You think you have everything under control, but you’re too blind to see what’s really happening around you.”

Her eyes widen slightly, shaken by my words, but she recovers quickly. “I don’t care about the bubble. I will do whatever it takes to protect you. I listened to you the first time and let you go. And you got hurt because of it. This time, I won’t let you out of my sight.”

I let out a sharp, hollow laugh. “Are you really that much of a fool, or is this some kind of power game? Are you bored, looking for some adventure to keep you entertained?”

Her hands clench at her sides, but her voice remains steady. “You’re wrong. I saw hell in those two weeks Dominic’s men had me. I know it’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through, but it was enough to keep me far away from anything related to Dominic. Yet here I am, standing my ground, because I owe you. I’m choosing to be here, to repay you for what you did for me.”

I stare at her, my lips curling into a bitter smile. “I regret saving you.”

Her voice softens, but there’s a determination in her eyes. “I know you do. But I’ll still protect you.”

She steps back, turning toward the door, but I stop her. “There is one thing you can do.”

She turns back to me, her expression softening with hope. “What is it?”

“I want to change rooms,” I say bluntly.

She blinks, confused. “You don’t like the view?”

I scoff. “The fact that the room has a view IS the problem. I want to stay where Lucia is staying.”

Her brow furrows. “Lucia is in the servants’ wing.”

“Perfect,” I reply. “That’s where I want to be.”

Her mouth opens in protest, but she closes it quickly, her eyes searching mine. “You’re not a servant, Valeria. You’re a guest.”

I stare at her blankly, my voice cold. “Stop pretending I can ever belong in your world. I want to be with Lucia, where I feel like I belong.”

Her face crumples slightly, sadness pooling in her eyes. “Do you really want to get away from me that badly?”

“Yes,” I reply without hesitation. “I thought I made that obvious.”

She exhales shakily, nodding after a moment. “Fine. If it will make you more comfortable, I’ll arrange it.”

Her voice wavers slightly, but she doesn’t let it break. She turns around and leaves the room, her shoulders stiff, her steps hurried.

I watch her go, a part of me surprised by her response. But I shove the thought away, focusing instead on the pocketknife on the bedside table

Emilia’s POV

I step out of Valeria’s room, closing the door gently behind me. My chest feels tight, the weight of her words still pressing down on me.

Do you really want to get away from me that badly? Yes. I thought I made that obvious.

I swallow hard, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. My feet carry me down the hallway on instinct, and before I realize it, I’m standing in the kitchen where Lucia is tidying up.

She looks up at me, her warm, knowing eyes softening as she takes in my expression. “Miss Emilia, is everything alright?”

I shake my head, letting out a shaky breath. “Lucia... she wants to move to the servants’ wing. She wants to be near you.”

Lucia sets down the cloth she’s holding, stepping closer. “And you’re letting her?”

I nod, my voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but... I just want her to feel comfortable. I don’t want to push her anymore.”

Lucia places a comforting hand on my shoulder, her touch grounding. “You’re doing the right thing, Miss Emilia. Sometimes, giving someone what they want is the best way to show you care.”

“I hope you’re right,” I murmur, looking away. “I don’t know why, but... I feel like I really care for her, Lucia. And I don’t even know if she’ll ever care for me.”

Lucia squeezes my shoulder gently. “Sometimes, caring for someone means putting their needs before your own, even if they don’t see it. She’ll realize it in time.”

I take a deep breath, nodding. “Can you... Can you get the room next to yours ready for her? She wants to be there, and I think it’s the only place she’ll feel at ease right now.”

Lucia smiles softly. “Of course. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.” I hesitate, then add, “Can you help her walk there when it’s ready? Maybe help her take a shower or freshen up? I’ll get some clothes for her.”

Lucia tilts her head slightly. “Miss Emilia, you know she might not want to wear anything you bring her.”

“I know,” I admit, my voice quiet. “But... maybe she will.”

Lucia chuckles lightly. “And if she doesn’t, I’ll lend her some of my clothes. Don’t worry, Miss Emilia. I’ll do my best to make her feel at home—at least, as much as she’ll let me.”

I offer a weak smile, the lump in my throat still there but easing slightly. “Thank you, Lucia. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Lucia pats my shoulder gently. “Go rest, Miss Emilia. I’ll take care of everything.”

I nod again, turning to leave, but the ache in my chest remains. As much as I want Valeria to feel safe, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m losing any chance of getting close to her.