Author's POV
Araya stood, a statue carved from ice and fury, the very air around her crackling with a suppressed tempest. Her face, once soft and inviting, was now a stark canvas of pallid skin, etched with the deep, shadowed bags of sleepless nights and endless tears. Her eyes, usually pools of warm amber, were now twin embers of molten rage, rimmed red and swollen, each blink a painful testament to the torrents they had shed. Her lips, thin and trembling, were a stark contrast to the ferocity of her words.
She felt utterly shattered, a fragile vase splintered into a thousand pieces, yet somehow, she stood, a defiant phoenix rising from the ashes of her humiliation. "I kept it a secret all this time," she began, her voice a raw whisper that sliced through the tense silence, "because I never wanted you or Alex to be harmed." A tremor wracked her body, a physical manifestation of the emotional earthquake within. "He emotionally blackmailed me at Emma's birthday. He kidnapped me, tortured me, and…"
Her voice broke, a strangled whimper escaping her throat, her shoulders hunching as if to shield herself from the memories that clawed at her mind. Her face, already pale, turned a sickly shade of white, the delicate blush of her cheeks replaced by a stark, almost translucent hue. "He raped me, Ash," she choked out, the words a venomous serpent uncoiling in the stillness. "He got me pregnant—that's how I got Asher. He lied about the paternity of Asher. He isn't just her adoptive father, but…" More tears, hot and heavy, cascaded down her cheeks, leaving glistening trails on her skin. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat a painful obstruction. "Asher's father. His blood runs through her."
"Erickson Dragrons is my daughter's father. I'm not making this up; it's a fact. You can either believe me or believe whatever you want. However, I won't be blackmailed by him anymore." Her stance shifted, a subtle straightening of her spine, a silent declaration of defiance.
Ash's hand flew to Araya's, her own tears blurring her vision. Her eyes, usually soft and empathetic, now burned with a dangerous, incandescent fury. "He did all these things to you, and yet you didn't have the guts to tell us?" Her voice, usually gentle, was laced with a venomous edge, each word a shard of shattered trust. Her gaze, a blazing inferno, bore into Erickson, a silent accusation that screamed of betrayal. She imagined the depths of Araya's suffering, the endless nights of terror, the forced silence. Her own best friend's brother had betrayed her. What more could he do? Humiliating her sister to this extent and forcing her toward her death? Unshed tears, hot and heavy, fell, disappearing between the bridge of her mouth and nose, a silent testament to her anguish.
"I'm sorry you went through all this because of him. I… I could have… gotten a hint… about him." Her voice trailed off, her gaze shifting to Erickson, a silent question hanging in the air. "You did this to my sister? How could you? I trusted you."
Erickson stammered, his eyes wide with a desperate plea for understanding. "No… it's not… what you think… I…" His face, usually a mask of cold authority, was now a canvas of raw vulnerability, his words a broken litany of regret.
"What more explanation do you want to give, Erick?" Emma snapped, her voice laced with a venomous edge. Her eyes, usually sparkling with warmth, were now dark pools of fury. "How could you stoop to such shameless lengths? You…"
"No… Emma, it's not what you think. I can explain." He knitted his brows, his gaze downcast, tears stinging his eyes. His family, his life, was fracturing before him. He would grovel, he would plead, he would do anything to mend the shattered pieces.
If anything, he had learned that:
Mafias are never meant to cry, yet he broke that rule.
Mafias don't plead for mercy; he crawled like a helpless rat.
Mafias do not take "no" for an answer. For once in his life, he had learned the meaning of that word, and it had come in a hard way.
You break and dominate a woman, and she will never disobey you… He doubted this rule in the deepest pit of his heart.
He swiveled around, his gaze sweeping over each face, a silent plea for understanding. Jack nodded helplessly, a silent acknowledgment of the impossible situation, and walked away from the crowd.
Alone, with his family, and the monstrous shadow of his mistakes looming over him, he fell to one knee. "I admit I did everything to you, Araya! I admit I inflicted pain and dominance. However, you need to understand I did all that because…" His voice trailed off, his gaze locking onto Araya, a desperate plea for forgiveness in his eyes.
Nora leaned against the wall, a predatory stillness in her posture. Her eyes, cold and calculating, watched the unfolding drama with a detached amusement. Everything was going exactly as she had planned.
If she couldn't get Erickson in this lifetime, then no one would—especially not Araya.
She glowered at him, her lips curling into a sneer. "I want full custody of Asher!" she barked, her voice sharp and demanding. "I can forget all this ever happened if only you give up your paternity rights to Asher." Erickson's face contorted in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock. Araya's brows furrowed, her stance unwavering, a silent declaration that she would not yield.
She knew Asher was his weakness, his Achilles' heel. "I can forgive whatever you've done. I can forget there was anyone named Luciano Dragrons Erickson in my life! But strip off your paternity rights. Can you do that, Mr. Mafia?" she roared, the bitterness in her voice a venomous sting. He shook his head vehemently, his features a mask of shock and despair.
"You are a mafia boss, right? You keep to your word. More so, no one tells you what to do?" She circled him, her eyes fixed on the shimmering water of the pool, a silent threat hanging in the air. "Your time is now, Mr. Erickson. Can you do that?" she said smugly, her heart a cold, barren wasteland. "You can never have Asher as your daughter. Asher never existed, and you never met me!"
His jaw dropped, his tears now a torrent of despair. "Can't we talk this over? Please forgive me."
"Is there anything else about you to forgive?" Her voice was a frozen blade, slicing through his pleas. "Asher was never yours, Mr. Dragrons, and I'm taking her back with me. Her name is Asher Kara Stewart, not Dragrons! She rightfully belongs to me! She is mine! Mine and mine!" she spat, her eyes blazing with a fierce, possessive fire.
Turning to Ash, she continued, "I'm giving you a chance, Ash. I understand you and Emma are best friends, and it's hard to break free, but you have to rashly pick because of me. You either make a choice between Emma and me."
Ash staggered, her world tilting on its axis. A knot of dread tightened in her stomach, her heart pounding against her ribs. She hated making choices, and now she had to choose between her friend and her sister.
"Can't we resolve all this, please?" Emma pleaded, her voice a broken sob. "Please, Ash, don't leave me! I won't live one bit without you by my side!" Her words, a haunting melody of despair, echoed in Ash's ears. She wanted to reach out, to comfort her friend, but her feet were rooted to the spot, her heart torn in two. "Ash, come up with your decision," Araya urged, her voice sharp and unwavering. Erickson watched, a silent observer of the agonizing scene, his helplessness a crushing weight on his soul.
"You can't take Ash away! No… please!" Emma sobbed, burying her face in Ash's arms, her body shaking with grief.
"Time's up, Ashley!" Araya yowled, her voice a sharp, cutting edge. Ash recoiled, pushing Emma gently away. "I'm sorry, Emma, but I have to go with my sister. Your brother caused this. I can't leave Asher and my sister anymore. She is my life, just like Asher." Her voice broke, a sob escaping her throat. "I will live with my sister, Emma. I'm sorry."
Just as she finished, the nanny rushed in, her breath ragged. "Ma'am… sir…" she panted, her eyes wide with alarm. "She
has gone down with a fever."