Chapter 19

Della's instincts told her to run, to turn and leave, but she couldn't. She couldn't leave Emily like that, and she couldn't ignore the voice in her head screaming that something terrible was about to happen. But she also knew she couldn't intervene-not without risking her own safety.

Eventually, she forced herself to retreat, her hands shaking as she quietly closed the door behind her. She had left without saying a word, her heart heavy with fear and guilt. She told herself it was for the best. Diego was dangerous when he was angry, and she had seen firsthand what he was capable of.

It wasn't until days later that she encountered Emily again, standing outside her door, her face pale and haunted. At first, Della hadn't realized who she was. Emily looked so different from the poised, confident woman she'd met before. She looked broken.

"Please, can I come in?" Emily's voice was barely a whisper, her eyes pleading.

Without hesitation, Della had opened the door, ushering her inside. She hadn't asked questions. She had simply offered Emily shelter, given her a change of clothes, and made her a warm cup of tea. Emily had sat silently, staring into the cup as if it held all the answers she needed.

It wasn't until her next visit that Della realized just how dire the situation was. When she arrived at Diego's apartment to check up on Emily, she found the door unlocked. She entered cautiously, calling out Emily's name, but there was no response. Her heart raced as she walked down the hallway, the silence of the apartment unnerving.

She opened the door to one of the bedrooms and froze. Emily was there, curled up on the floor, her arms covered in bruises. Her hair was matted, her eyes hollow. She looked up at Della, her expression of fear and desperation.

"Please, help me," Emily whispered, her voice cracking. "I want to go home."

Della's heart shattered. She could see the terror in Emily's eyes, and she knew this was far worse than she had imagined. But she also knew the truth-Diego wouldn't let Emily leave, and if she tried to help her escape, he would kill them both. She knelt down beside Emily, her hands trembling as she placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"I can't," Della whispered, her voice barely audible. "He'll find us. He'll kill you. He'll kill me."

Emily's eyes filled with tears, her hands gripping Della's as if she were her only lifeline. "Please, Della. I just want to see my family again. I want to go home."

But Della knew it was impossible. Diego's grip was too tight, and his rage was too volatile. If he found out that she was trying to help Emily, there would be no escaping his wrath. Della tried to explain, her voice choked with emotion, but the look of betrayal on Emily's face was enough to make her want to scream.

"I'm sorry," Della said, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so, so sorry."

Emily had stayed locked in that room for months, Della visited whenever she could, bringing her food and bandaging her wounds, but she couldn't do anything more. She was trapped between the person she wanted to help and the brother she had sworn to protect. 

Diego wasn't just anyone; he was her half-brother. Their connection was complicated, a twisted bond formed out of pain and trauma. Her's mother had been raped by his father when she was young, leaving her devastated and traumatized. She had wanted nothing to do with Diego, refusing to acknowledge him or be involved in his life. As a result, Diego had grown up in a broken, unstable environment, surrounded by violence and neglect. It had shaped him into the man he was today-ruthless, angry, and lost.

Della knew Diego's history, and despite everything, she loved him. He was her brother, and he had been the only one who ever showed her kindness when everyone else pushed her away. But that love came with a price. She had watched him become the man he was now-a feared drug dealer and mafia boss, a man whose name was synonymous with violence. He was infamous for his brutality, his devilish smile masking the darkness within. He had tortured and killed anyone who crossed him, and even the police were powerless to stop him.

And yet, despite knowing all of this, Della couldn't bring herself to turn her back on him. She couldn't hate him, even when she knew he was the reason Emily's life was in danger. Even when she found herself covering for him, making excuses, she justified it by telling herself that he was her only family. He was the only person who treated her like she mattered.

But that night-when she saw Emily's lifeless body, the blood pooling around her-it shattered everything. She had arrived at Diego's apartment again, but it was too late. Emily was already gone, her eyes vacant, her body cold. Della had stood there, staring at the girl she couldn't save, the girl she had left behind.

Diego had shown no remorse. He had simply wiped the blood from his hands, his expression unreadable as he looked at her. "She was going to betray me," he said, his voice calm and detached. 

Della had felt the world tilt beneath her. She had stood there, paralyzed by the horror of what he had done. But even then, she hadn't been able to walk away. She had taken his hand, feeling the blood still warm on his skin, and she had told herself it was okay. He was her brother, and she had made a choice-a choice to stand by him, no matter the cost.

But now, lying in the bathtub, the guilt clawed at her. She knew she had betrayed Emily. She had failed to protect her, and now she was trapped in a lie she could never escape. Her love for Diego had led her down a path she couldn't turn back from. 

The Adleys believed she was someone she wasn't, and Hunter-Hunter believed he had married Emily. But one day, the truth would come out. One day, everything she had built would come crashing down. And when it did, she would be left with nothing but her guilt and the memory of the girl she had let die.