His eyes narrowed, sensing the undertone in my invitation. "Is there something on your mind?"
Gravel crunched under our feet, breaking the silence as we ventured farther from the main house. A secluded grove of palms lay ahead. We stopped, and the only sound was the rustle of leaves in the wind.
"Here's good," I said, my voice low.
Emilio's arms wrapped around himself, a barrier against vulnerability. "What's this about?"
"Your secret," I began. "You were here on the island when Isla died, weren’t you?"
His eyes darted away, then back, fierce. "Who told you?"
"Doesn't matter. I need to know more," I pressed.
"Why? Why should I trust you?" He was a statue.
"Because I'm here to help." My tone softened. "I want to understand."
"Understand?" He scoffed, but his rigid stance faltered. "You have no idea."
"Then explain it to me," I urged. "Please."
He exhaled sharply, a fortress considering its gates. "It's… complicated."
"Most truths are." I edged closer, my words a gentle prod. "Start somewhere—anywhere."
Emilio looked out to the ocean. "Fine," he relented, "but this goes deeper than you can imagine."
Chapter24
Emilio's gazefixed on a point somewhere in the distance, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Isla and I, we were… it was like we breathed each other's souls."
"Souls," I echoed, my own breath catching at the rawness in his tone. “That’s deep. And very poetic. You loved each other?”
"Her laughter was my heartbeat." A sad smile touched his lips for a fleeting moment before despair reclaimed its territory. "And then it stopped."
"Because of her family?" My question sliced through the quiet evening air, sharp and direct.
"Her mother," Emilio corrected, spitting out the words as if they were poison. "She couldn't stomach us—our love. My real name is Javier. I used a different name when I came here, so Mrs. Walton wouldn’t know it was me who was coming with her sister. Beatrice told me to do that. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been invited. Beatrice told Victoria that she wanted her friend to be with her.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Beatrice contacted me a couple of weeks ago and asked me to attend Mark’s party. At first, I said there was no way I was ever going back there, but she told me it was important and that I should do it for Isla. Beatrice was the only one who helped us back then, who thought it was okay for us to love one another. So, I trusted her and came with her. When Victoria saw me, she almost lost it, but she couldn’t do anything about it since all the guests were already here. I still don’t know why Beatrice wanted me to come. But seeing Mark… dead the same way Isla died, it… it almost broke me.”
"Tell me what happened back then," I urged, though every word seemed to carve deeper into his torment.
"Her mother found out about us. It was awful. The screaming, the threats…." His fingers twisted together, knuckles white. "It was relentless, suffocating."
"Did she threaten Isla?"
"Us both." Emilio's voice cracked, and he paused to swallow hard. "But Isla bore the worst of it. She was trapped by the family’s expectations."
"And that led to…."
"I was thrown off the island. My mother continued to work and stay here for at least a few years before she left. I lost everything that day. I grew up here on this island. It was also my home."
“What about your father?” I asked.
