Chapter 111: The Ultimatum

CHAPTER 111 — The Ultimatum

Kristoff’s POV

THE COLD air inside the study felt heavy. I stood in front of the large wooden desk, holding my phone tight in my hand.

A quiet buzz cut through the silence. My screen lit up with a video call notification from a private number.

I swallowed hard and answered it.

My father’s face appeared on the display. He sat in his leather chair, hundreds of miles away in his office, looking as calm and ruthless as ever. He did not smile. He never did when it came to business, and to him, everything was business.

“Kristoff,” he said, his voice flat through the speaker.

“Dad,” I replied, keeping my stance straight. “Why are you calling?”

He did not waste time with greetings. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and looked straight into the camera.

“I warned you before about distraction,” he said slowly. “I told you that your name carries weight in this country. Yet you continue to waste your time playing protector.”

My jaw tightened. “If this is about my schedule, I am still maintaining my grades and my duties at school.”

“I do not care about your little school duties,” he snapped, his voice cold. “I care about the future of this family. And you are dragging our name through the dirt for a girl who has nothing to offer.”

“Aleli has nothing to do with this,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could.

My father let out a dry, empty laugh. “Is that what you think?”

He reached for a thick manila folder resting on his desk. He opened it slowly, taking his time, making sure I watched every movement. Then, he picked up a stack of printed photographs and held them up to the camera one by one.

My chest went cold.

The first picture was of Aleli and me walking out of the hotel earlier that morning.

The second picture showed me standing inside the small bakery, buying the cinnamon roll while she waited outside.

The third picture was the sharpest. It showed the two of us sitting on the dry wooden bench by the river. My fingers were wrapped around hers, and her head was resting lightly against my shoulder.

I stared at the screen, my grip tightening on my phone until my knuckles turned white. Someone had been watching us. Someone had followed us every step of the way, taking pictures of the only peaceful moment we had shared in weeks.

“You think you are being clever,” my father said, tossing the photos back onto his desk. “You think you can hide in small hotels and walk around public parks without me knowing. You are naive, Kristoff.”

“Stop following her,” I said through gritted teeth, anger rising in my throat. “Leave her out of this. She did nothing to you.”

“She exists,” he said simply. “That is enough of an offense when she takes your attention away from your responsibilities.”

“She is not a distraction.”

“She is a liability,” my father corrected instantly. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, his dark eyes locking onto mine through the screen. “And you know very little about the trash you are trying to protect.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He tapped his fingers against the manila folder. “Did you really think her past was hidden? Did you think a few deleted files and quiet agreements could keep the truth buried forever?”

A cold wave of dread washed over me.

“Aleli thinks her past is dead,” my father continued, a slow, cruel smile forming on his lips. “She thinks the system wiped her clean. But nothing is ever truly erased, Kristoff. Not when people with real power know where to look.”

My breath hitched in my throat. My mind raced back to everything Aleli had told me—the hidden files, her Uncle Jerry, her fears of being exposed, her juvenile record.

He knew.

My father did not just know about us. He knew about her past. He had the records.

“I can end that girl’s life with one document,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a whisper that felt like ice against my skin. “One phone call to the press. One leak to the board of directors at your school. One release of her sealed court files.”

I felt the air leave my lungs.

If her record became public, everything she had built would crumble in a single second.

The school would expel her.

The media would hunt her down.

The rumors, the judgment, and the threats would destroy her completely.

She would never have a normal life again. She would never be safe.

“You wouldn’t,” I whispered, though I already knew the answer.

“I would,” he replied without a second of hesitation. “And I will, unless you do exactly as I say.”

“Dad, please—”

“Do not beg,” he cut me off sharply. “It does not suit a Ricafort.”

He picked up a pen, tapping it against the desk in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

“You have a simple choice to make tonight, Kristoff,” he said. “You walk away from her. You sever all ties immediately. You focus on your studies, prepare for your application abroad, and take your proper place in this family.”

He paused, letting the silence stretch between us.

“Or,” he continued, “you stay by her side. And you watch her entire past become public before the sun sets tomorrow.”

“She did not do anything wrong,” I begged, my voice cracking slightly despite my efforts to stay composed. “She was just a child. You are going to ruin her life for nothing!”

“I am protecting mine,” he answered coldly. “Her life means nothing to me. Yours does. If ruining her is what it takes to bring you back to reality, then I will do it without a second thought.”

I stood frozen in the quiet room. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I thought about Aleli’s smile from this morning. I thought about the way she laughed when I dropped the eggshell in the bowl. I thought about the way she looked at me by the river, telling me that she was finally breathing again.

She had just found a small piece of peace. And now, I was being forced to tear it away from her.

If I stayed with her, I would destroy her.

If I left her, I would break her heart.

“You cannot protect her from me, Kristoff,” my father said, breaking the heavy silence. “You do not have the power. You do not have the resources. You are just a boy playing hero.”

He reached toward his screen to end the call, stopping just before pressing the button. He looked back at me one last time, his expression completely devoid of mercy.

“You have forty-eight hours.”

The screen went black.