Chapter 65

Chapter 65
Emilia stood in the doorway. She knew this conversation she was about to have could either heal a wound in the family—or deepen it.

Luca was seated behind the dark oak desk, eyes fixed on a map he wasn’t really reading. His jaw was clenched tight, and his thumb tapped absently against the armrest, an old habit she recognized as a sign of barely restrained frustration.

“You’re here,” he muttered without looking up.

“Are you still angry with me?,” Emilia said, stepping inside.

“No,” he replied coldly.

She shut the door behind her and walked forward, planting herself in front of the desk. She took a breath. “I have something to tell you. And I need you to actually listen this time.”

Luca’s eyes flicked up. “You’ve already convinced me to spare Calista’s life once. If this is about that—”

“It is,” she cut in. “But it’s more than that.”

He leaned back, folding his arms. “I’m listening.”

Emilia hesitated. She hadn’t rehearsed this. She didn’t think she could. It had to come from her heart, not a script.

“The child she’s carrying,” Emilia repeated, her voice steady. “It's Cyrus’s child.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Luca’s gaze hardened, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a snarl—but wasn’t far from it either.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“And what, exactly, do you expect me to do with that information?” he asked sharply.

“I expect you to do the right thing,” Emilia said. “To forgive her. And reinstate her into the family.”

Luca shot to his feet so fast the chair scraped across the floor. “Forgive her?” he barked. “Reinstate her? Emilia, she tried to tear us apart! She sabotaged sacred rituals. She nearly killed me, Emilia. She has burned Cities to the ground and you want me to forgive her?!”

“And now she’s broken,” Emilia said. “She’s not the same woman who plotted behind our backs. I saw it. Cyrus saw it. She regrets what she did, Luca.”

Luca ran a hand through his hair and turned away from her, pacing to the window. “Regret doesn’t undo betrayal.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Emilia agreed quietly. “But forgiveness does something else—it allows us to move forward.”

He scoffed and looked beyond the window.

Luca turned back around, his eyes fierce. “Do you remember what happened the last time we forgave someone who turned against us? Forgiveness doesn’t work on people who see it as weakness.”

“This isn’t about tactics,” Emilia said, stepping closer. “This is about family.”

“Family?” Luca’s voice cracked. “She gave up that title the moment she chose power over all of us. Over this Family.”

“She was drowning, Luca,” Emilia said. “She made horrible choices, yes. But we’ve all been lost at some point. Even you.”

Luca’s jaw tensed again.

“She’s not asking to be your best friend,” Emilia continued. “She’s not even asking to sit at the same table. But the child she carries—your nephew or niece—didn’t ask to be born into this chaos. That child deserves to grow up in a family, not a warzone.”

Silence. The fire crackled louder in the space between them.

“You love Cyrus,” she added softly. “You know what this has done to him. And you know that pushing Calista away again will destroy him. He’s not strong enough to survive that—not again.”

Luca looked away.

“I’m not asking you to forget,” Emilia said. “I’m asking you to lead. Like an Alpha who understands that real strength isn’t about punishment—it’s about mercy when it’s hardest to give.”

He stared at the fire for a long time. His voice, when it finally came, was low and bitter. “Do you know what it’s like to sleep with one eye open because your own blood might slit your throat for a crown?”

Emilia didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Luca closed his eyes for a moment, then exhaled slowly. “You always had a way of making me feel like a monster for wanting to protect what’s left.”

“You’re not a monster,” she said, reaching for his hand. “You’re just tired. And scared. Like the rest of us.”

He didn’t pull away. But his voice stayed cold. “She lays low. No rituals. No schemes. No secret meetings or sudden loyalties.”

“She won’t,” Emilia promised.

“If I so much as smell betrayal on her again…” He opened his eyes, and they burned like embers. “I’ll execute her myself. I swear to the ancestors, Emilia—I’ll do it with my own hands.”

Emilia’s throat tightened. But she nodded. “That’s fair.”

Luca pulled away and sat back down. He rubbed his temples, exhausted. “Cyrus will want to bring her back to the Manor.”

“She doesn’t have to stay here,” Emilia said. “Just close enough that she’s safe. And not alone.”

“I’ll have Vivienne arrange something,” he muttered. “Away from the East Wing and far from the Sanctuary”

Emilia gave a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said gruffly. “This wasn’t for her. It’s for you. And Cyrus. And that child.”

She nodded. “That’s all I hoped for.”

As she turned to leave, Luca’s voice stopped her.

“You really think we can fix this family?”

She looked back over her shoulder. “I think we can stop it from breaking more than it already has.”

He nodded slowly. “Then I’ll try.”

It wasn’t a promise of peace.

But it was the beginning of one.

And sometimes, that was enough.