When my Daughter Ch 10

Chapter 10 

Leandro’s POV 

I dreamed of her again. 

Emerald. 

The name tasted like sunlight, like the warmth of days I thought I’d buried. In my dream, she was alive. We were together, laughing in the gardens of the old villa where we once planned our future. Her hand fit perfectly in mine, soft and steady, her eyes shimmering with that fierce tenderness that always disarmed me. 

“Promise me,” she whispered, brushing her hair behind her ear the way she always did. “Promise me you’ll take care of us. No matter what happens. You, me, and our little one. A family.” 

“I promise,” I’d told her, my hand resting on her belly. “I’ll protect you both with my life. Always.” 

Her laughter rang like bells in the breeze, her lips pressing gently against mine. In that moment, I believed we were untouchable. That nothing could break the world we’d built together. 

And then the dream shifted–still golden, still tender. 

I was in the nursery we had painted together, the walls a soft shade of yellow. Emerald sat in the rocking chair, cradling a small bundle wrapped in pink. Gwen. Our Gwen. Her tiny fists opened and closed, her lips puckering as she yawned. 

I remember crouching beside them, my hand trembling as I traced a finger over her miniature hand. She grabbed me with surprising strength, and Emerald laughed. 

“She already has your grip,” she teased. 

I kissed her forehead, overwhelmed. “She has your eyes. God help me when she grows up -she’ll rule this world, just like her mother.” 

We danced around the room with Gwen between us. Emerald hummed a lullaby, one her mother used to sing to her, and I swore there was no sound more sacred. Gwen giggled, a tiny sound that made my chest ache with joy. 

We were a family. We were whole. 

Another scene. Sunlight spilled through the windows of the villa’s kitchen. Gwen was in her highchair, smearing mashed fruit across her face while Emerald cooked. I leaned against the doorway, arms folded, simply watching them. 

Gwen babbled nonsense, but when she saw me, her eyes lit up and she raised her hands, demanding to be carried. 

“Papa!” 

The word had shattered me the first time she spoke it. Even now, hearing it in the dream, it 

cracked something deep inside me. I rushed forward, scooping her up, kissing her cheeks 

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cracked something deep inside me. I rushed forward, scooping her up, kissing her cheeks while she squealed. Emerald rolled her eyes, laughing. 

“You’re spoiling her.” 

“She’s mine to spoil,” I said without shame. “Both of you are.” 

The memory blurred into another–an afternoon in the garden. Emerald sat on the blanket while Gwen toddled toward me, her steps unsteady but determined. She fell, and I caught her, holding her close as she squealed in triumph. I kissed her tiny curls, breathing her in. “This,” I told Emerald as she watched us, her eyes shining. “This is happiness.” 

And she had smiled back. “Yes. This is everything.” 

But dreams are cruel. 

Because then the light fractured, and everything collapsed into screaming. Metal crashing, glass shattering, fire. I saw Emerald’s body–broken, bloodied, her hand slipping from mine. The promise, torn apart. 

And behind her, a child’s cry. Our daughter’s cry. 

“No!” I screamed, falling to my knees. “Emerald! Gwen!” 

My chest burned, my heart tearing in half. And then–like a cruel twist of fate–Nadine appeared in the dream, crouching by my side. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone laced with irritation rather than concern. 

“Emerald…” I choked out, the world spinning around me. My throat felt raw, my hands shaking. “Emerald…” 

When I blinked, Nadine’s expression shifted into fury, her eyes blazing. “Seriously?” she spat. “You’re still calling out for her?” 

I snapped my head toward her, stunned by her venom. “What are you doing in our room?” I demanded. “Get away! This is Emerald-” 

Nadine laughed then. A hollow, sharp sound that sliced through me. She smirked, her lips curling in cruel amusement. “Do you even hear yourself? You’ve been f*cking me for years, Leandro. Years. And not once did you ever remember me. You never even cared. But now- now that she’s gone–you act like some grieving saint?“. 

I froze, my fists clenching. 

“You’re a hypocrite,” Nadine hissed, her voice growing louder. “Grieve, fine. Pretend you’re the faithful one. But you can never hide from the truth. Emerald’s blood is on your hands. You’re the reason she’s dead. Because when they asked for ransom, you didn’t pay. You didn’t want to save your own daughter.” 

Her words stabbed into me like knives. My stomach twisted, rage boiling over the edge. My hand lashed out before I could stop myself, striking her cheek. 

The sound cracked in the silence. Nadine’s head snapped to the side, her breath trembling. 

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“You’re really giving me a headache,” I snarled, my voice low, seething. “Making me regret everything.” 

Her eyes filled with something I couldn’t read–pain, hatred, maybe both–but she didn’t cry. She simply looked at me as if daring me to prove her right. 

I grabbed her wrist, ignoring her struggle, and dragged her toward the heavy oak door. Her nails scraped against my arm, her voice rising into screams. 

“Let me out! You bastard! You’ll never escape what you’ve done–never!” 

I shoved her inside and locked the door, her pounding fists and shrill cries echoing behind me. For a moment, I stood there, breathing heavily, my hand trembling against the cool brass of the lock. 

Then I turned away. 

The house was quiet, suffocating. I stepped into my study, the air heavy with the scent of cigars and stale whiskey. My men were waiting by the door, shifting uncomfortably, unsure if they should speak. 

I ran a hand down my face, the dream still clawing at me. Emerald’s smile. Her blood. Her 

voice. 

“Arrange a funeral,” I muttered, my throat raw. 

“Sir?” one of them asked cautiously. 

“For her. And my daughter.” My voice cracked on the last word. I swallowed hard, forcing it back down. “Do it quietly. No press. No spectacle. Just… lay them to rest.” 

The men nodded quickly, bowing before leaving. 

Alone now, I sank into the leather chair, the weight of the world crushing my chest. I stared at the ceiling, willing myself not to cry, not to collapse. 

But the silence pressed harder. 

So I whispered into the emptiness, my voice breaking like glass. 

“I’m sorry, Emerald. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I wasn’t the man you needed me to be. If there’s any mercy left in this world, I hope you can hear me. I hope you know–l loved you.” 

My eyes closed, and I let the darkness swallow me.