Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 54

Chapter 54

VALENTINA

Marco shook his head after Elia left the room, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. “Adrian keeps you on a short leash.”

I stiffened. I couldn’t discuss my marriage with him. Not with anyone, really. It would only prove Adrian right when he said trust was something I didn’t yet deserve.

“How’s Mom doing in her new role as the rising star of our circles?” I asked, forcing a light tone.

He snorted, but at least he took the bait. “She’s panicking. She thinks taking in Kiara will destroy her reputation.”

1 frowned. “Kiara did nothing wrong. Her father’s the traitor, not her.”

Marco’s expression hardened. “You know how it is, Valentina. She’ll suffer for his sins anyway. The children always do.”

I hesitated, trying to read his tone. Was he talking about himself? About how Dad’s lackluster standing still shadowed him? Or was he hinting at something darker? Like his biological parents‘ death? Adrian and Stefan flashed through my mind, but I pushed the thought away.

“I’m going to call home today,” I said quietly. “Kiara. I wanted to give her a few days to recover.”

Marco’s mouth twisted. “Recover? From seeing her mother murdered by her father? Valentina, you don’t recover from something like that.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Marco had watched his biological parents die too, but I doubted he was talking about that. “Are we still talking about our uncle,” I asked, narrowing my eyes, “or are you trying to hint at something else?”

He picked up another cookie, deliberately nonchalant. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” I said sharply. “You always do. I thought you didn’t know what happened to Serena DeLuca? Was that a lie?”

His jaw flexed. “No. I just think it’s strange. You said the boy doesn’t talk, and avoids Adrian like he’s afraid of him. Trauma like that doesn’t appear out of nowhere.”

“Losing your mother in any way would traumatize any child,” I shot back.

Marco smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “At least Dad’s thrilled about your ‘bond‘ with Adrian. He’s already basking in the reflected power.”

That stung. We didn’t talk about Serena again after that. Instead, we switched to Dad. How my marriage had suddenly earned him respect among other underbosses, how the whispers behind his back had quieted. But I doubted Adrian would ever lift a finger to help him unless I asked.

Sofia made a scrunched–up face in her stroller, interrupting my thoughts.

I sighed. “That expression means one thing. It’s time for a diaper change.”

Marco grimaced. “I’ll stay. I can handle it. I’ve seen worse.”

I went over to pick Sofia up, but stopped when I noticed something peeking out from under the couch. Something red and sparkly. I went down on all fours and reached under the couch to pull it out. It was a hair clip.

I turned the clip over in my hand, frowning. I didn’t own sparkly hair clips, and it was too big to be Sofia’s. I hadn’t bought her anything like that either.

“Hmm.”

“Something wrong?” Marco asked.

I shook my head and waved the hair clip in front of him. “Nothing, I just haven’t seen this before. It might be Sybil’s.”

But even as I said those words, I knew I didn’t believe them. Sybil’s only style of hair accessories were black hair bands to pull her graying hair in the sleek tight bun she always had it in.

Who could the hair clip belong to? For a split second, my mind accommodated the idea that Adrian could have brought a woman home. But he had never been home when I wasn’t. Or maybe that was what I thought.

Sofia made another fussy sound and I quickly stuffed the hair clip in my pocket and picked her up as her little hands reached for my hair, and carried her upstairs. On the way, I noticed something that made me slow down, a door left ajar. Serena’s old room. I frowned but kept walking. I’d check after I took care of Sofia.

Marco’s expression contorted as soon as I opened the diaper. “God,” he muttered, recoiling.

I laughed softly despite the smell. “What happened to ‘I can handle it‘?”

“That doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

“I don’t either,” I said, fighting a smile. “But someone has to do it.” I tickled Sofia’s round belly. “Right?”

Marco leaned on the doorframe. “Dad should’ve never forced you into this. You’re too young to take care of two kids that aren’t even yours.”

His words landed like a slap. Everyone said that. Mom, Marco, even Adrian, in his own way. I wasn’t their biological mother, but every smile, every cry, every time Stefan looked at me instead of away, they felt like mine.

“I can handle it,” I said tightly. “It’s not easy, but I’m stubborn.”

“That’s true,” he said, smirking.

I shot him a look but couldn’t.stay angry at him. Not when he looked exactly like the little boy I used to build forts with in Dad’s office.

Once I finished changing Sofia, I lowered her into the crib. She was exhausted- she’d fought her nap earlier

—

but the moment I stepped back, her lip trembled, and then came the wail.

I rocked the crib gently, whispering nonsense words. Her eyelids drooped… until I stopped moving. Then came another burst of cries. My heart squeezed. Some said you should let them “cry it out,” that it built independence, but I wasn’t built for that kind of coldness.

“She’s demanding,” Marco muttered, arms crossed.

I picked Sofia up again, murmuring softly, but she only cried harder, and then suddenly gagged. Before I could move, warm spit–up splattered all over my shirt and her tiny pajamas.

Marco grimaced. “That’s… disgusting.”

“Welcome to my glamorous life,” I said, sighing.

He smirked, but his face was pale. He was definitely not used to baby bodily fluids. I cleaned Sofia up, changed her clothes, and settled her back down. This time she drifted off to sleep without protest. I motioned for silence and quietly led Marco out of the nursery.

Once the door was shut, he eyed me up and down. “You’re going to change, right?”

I looked down at the wet spot on my shirt. “No. I think I’ll keep the new perfume. Smells like despair and curdled milk. This is definitely what a bar smells like.”

He snorted. “As if you even know what a bar smells like.”

I didn’t. I wasn’t allowed to know that kind of freedom. And even if I were older, I doubted Adrian would never let me step into one.

I headed into the bedroom. Marco followed, glancing around like he was trespassing. I wondered if Adrian would be angry that I’d brought someone else into our private space. Probably.

“I’m just going to take a quick shower,” I said. “Can you keep an ear out for Sofia? In case she starts crying again?”

“Sure,” Marco said, leaning against the wall. “Don’t worry. I’ll stand guard. I wouldn’t want the great Adrian DeLuca’s wife getting kidnapped on my watch.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled faintly and slipped into the bathroom.

It took effort to peel off my stained clothes without spreading the mess, but soon the hot spray of the shower hit my skin, washing away the smell and the chaos of the day. I let the water run over me longer than I should have. For a few minutes, I could almost forget the heaviness of this house, of everything it was hiding.

Afterward, I wrapped myself in a robe and blow–dried my hair, watching the mirror fog slowly clear. My mind was beginning to settle when something cut through the hum of the dryer― voices.

Male voices. Raised like they were in an argument.

I turned it off, feeling my pulse skip.

Then I heard it, low and unmistakable, Adrian’s voice, rough with fury.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”