Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 100

**Through Shadows We Painted Our Forever by Erynn Vel Coren**
**Chapter 100**

**VALENTINA**

As I entered the fourth month of my pregnancy, an unsettling self-consciousness began to creep into my thoughts. The little life we affectionately referred to as “the little bean” had firmly established its presence, taking up residence on my bladder as if it were a cozy little chair. Meanwhile, it seemed to think my ribs were an inviting drum kit, tapping away with an energy that both amused and bewildered me. I was acutely aware that it was still early for such sensations, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that my anxiety was amplifying everything I experienced. Fatigue clung to me like a heavy blanket, my emotions swung like a pendulum, and beneath it all, a gnawing fear lingered—that every little twinge or flutter might signal something was amiss.

Then, in the dead of night, the phone rang, shattering the fragile calm that had settled over our home. It was a call I had dreaded, and yet somehow, I knew it would come. Adrian’s father, Ernesto, had collapsed at the dinner table. The words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding: another heart attack, and this one was worse than the last.

The doctors spoke with careful precision, their words laced with a gravity that was impossible to ignore. Their eyes, however, betrayed the truth: Prepare yourselves for what may come.

Just two days later, I found myself staring at the hospital’s sterile walls, filled with a sense of foreboding as Ernesto requested to see me alone. A chill of dread washed over me. Adrian was away in California on business—an obligation he couldn’t defer. I could have waited, should have waited, but the urgency within me propelled me forward. I kissed the kids goodbye, promising Sybil I’d return for lunch, and made my way to the hospital, my heart heavy with an anxiety that knotted itself in my throat.

The hospital corridor greeted me with the acrid scent of bleach mingled with the fading aroma of wilted flowers. As I pushed open the door to Ernesto’s private room, the sight that met my eyes stole the breath from my lungs. The once formidable figure of Ernesto DeLuca now resembled a crumpled shadow of his former self. His cheeks were hollow, and his skin had taken on an almost ghostly translucence. Tubes sprawled across his chest, and the heart monitor emitted a weary, stubborn beep, echoing the fragility of life.

As I entered, he turned his head slowly, those piercing winter-blue eyes finding their way to my swollen belly before they met my gaze.

“Valentina,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. “Close the door.”

I obeyed, then lowered myself gingerly into the chair beside him, my lower back protesting the movement. The baby kicked sharply, as if sensing the tension that enveloped us.

“How are you feeling?” I ventured softly, hoping to bridge the chasm of silence.

“I don’t have long,” he stated bluntly, his words laced with a finality that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Don’t say that,” I replied, reaching out to touch his frail, wrinkled hand. “You don’t know that.”

“I’m tired of pretending, child,” he said, lifting a trembling hand before letting it drop again, defeated. “I don’t have long. Days, maybe weeks if we’re fortunate. But there’s one thing… one thing I need settled before I go.”

“And what is that?” I asked, my heart racing as dread pooled coldly in my stomach.

He gestured toward the swell of my belly. “My blood. You’re carrying the true DeLuca heir.”

I closed my eyes for a fleeting moment, realizing we should never have revealed the baby’s gender. If it had been a daughter, he might have accepted it, but with a son on the way, his old obsession had flared back to life, igniting a fire I wasn’t prepared to face.

“Ernesto…” I started, my voice trembling.

“Listen to me,” he insisted, his fingers reaching for mine, cold and papery. “Stefan can never be Underboss. It’s wrong. It’s unnatural, and you know why.”

My hand recoiled as if he had scorched me. “Stop.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify