Chapter 196 Begging at the Doorstep
Emilia’s POV
Dinner was halfway through when the mind-link came.
"Alpha. Luna." One of the gate guards, his voice tight with discomfort. "Henry Taylor’s wife and daughter are here. They’re asking to see the Luna."
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. Sebastian’s head snapped up, green eyes gleaming with something cold and satisfied.
"Finally," he said, a sharp smile curving his mouth. "Let them in," he sent back.
Tiffany’s eyes went wide. "Wait, seriously? You’re letting them into the pack house?"
"Why not?" Sebastian leaned back, utterly relaxed. "I want to hear what they’ve come crawling here to say."
Mila set down her fork and glanced at me, worry in her eyes.
I set my fork down too. "This should be interesting."
Sebastian reached over and squeezed my hand.
A few minutes later, hesitant footsteps echoed from the entrance hall. Dorothy and Linda appeared in the doorway, both of them a mess—clothes wrinkled, faces pale, eyes red from crying. They hovered at the threshold, not daring to step in.
Sebastian rose with deliberate slowness. He picked a dinner roll from the basket, walked toward them, and dropped it at their feet without a word, like he was feeding stray dogs.
"Beggars," he said coldly. "There’s your food. Now get out."
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. God, he was ruthless. And petty. I loved it.
Dorothy’s face went red. She looked humiliated and furious at once. Linda looked ready to cry. Neither of them moved.
"We need to see Emilia," Dorothy said, her voice shaking. "Please."
I stood and walked forward, arms crossed. "And why would I waste my time on you? I don’t see just anyone who shows up at my door."
Cold, clipped. I didn’t bother hiding the contempt.
Dorothy dropped to her knees. Linda followed a second later, both of them looking up at me, desperate.
"Emilia, please," Dorothy begged. "I was wrong. I know I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please, ask Sebastian to let Henry go. Let our lives go back to normal."
I stared down at her, and for a moment I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Then I laughed, harsh and bitter.
"Back to normal?" My voice rose. "You want your life back to normal? Who’s going to bring my mother back, Dorothy? Who’s going to give me back all the years I spent treated like garbage in my own father’s house?"
"I—"
"You think ’sorry’ makes up for murder?" I cut her off. "You think a few words erase what you did to me? To my mother?"
"Emilia, please!" Linda grabbed at my leg, clutching it like a lifeline. "We’re family! We share blood! You can’t just abandon us!"
I looked down at her hand like it was something filthy, then pulled my leg free.
"Family?" I repeated, my voice low. "You’re right. We do share blood. And it’s the most shameful thing I’ve ever had to admit."
Linda went still, like I’d slapped her.
Dorothy was still on her knees, hands clasped. "Then what do we have to do? What do you want? Just tell us and we’ll do it!"
I tilted my head, considering. Sebastian stood just behind me. I could feel through the bond that he’d back whatever I said next.
"Go to my mother’s grave," I said, slow and clear. "Kneel there three days and three nights. When my mother forgives you, I’ll forgive you."
Their faces went white.
"That’s impossible!" Linda blurted. "She’s dead! How can a dead person forgive us?"
I shrugged. "That’s your problem, not mine. Go, or don’t. Either way, I don’t care."
Dorothy grabbed Linda’s arm before she could say more. "We’ll go," she said quickly. "We’ll do it. Right now."
"Good." I turned to leave, but Dorothy’s voice stopped me.
"Wait—will you at least send us some food? We don’t have any money, and—"
Sebastian stepped forward, cutting her off. "Don’t worry. I’ll send three guards to watch you. Day and night. They’ll make sure you don’t cheat, and they’ll bring you just enough food and water to keep you alive."
His tone made it clear that keeping them alive was only so they could suffer longer.
Dorothy’s face crumpled, but she nodded and pulled Linda up. They stumbled out.
The second the door shut, Tiffany let out a low whistle. "Damn, Emmy. Remind me never to get on your bad side."
I turned to Sebastian, and he smiled at me. "Well done, love."
That night, Sebastian disappeared into his study for pack business. I should have gone to bed, but I couldn’t settle.
My mother’s things.
The box had been sitting in the back of our closet. I’d taken it from Henry when I went to get the recording pen, and with everything happening at once, I’d tucked it away and waited for the right time to open it.
Tonight felt right.
I dragged the box out and set it on the bed. My hands shook as I pried the lid open.
The first thing I saw was a photograph.
My mother, young, her brown hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She was holding a little girl—me—both of us smiling at the camera. I remembered that day. The warmth of her arms, the way she smelled like lavender and honey.
The tears came before I could stop them. I pressed the photo to my chest and cried. For the mother I’d lost too young. For the childhood they’d taken from me.
"Easy," Eve murmured in my mind. "Take your time."
I wiped my face and kept digging. Beneath the photo were a few pieces of jewelry, a silk scarf, a journal I’d read later.
And then I found the envelope.
Cream-colored, slightly yellowed with age. Across the front, in my mother’s handwriting: To my dearest Emilia.
My breath caught.
It had already been opened. Henry must have read it.
The thought turned my stomach, but I made myself stay calm as I pulled out the letter inside.