Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 57

PAST

That day unfolded like an open wound refusing to heal. Losing two men to those ruthless bikers was a blow I had prepared myself to endure—retaliation was an inevitable part of this life. But the real gut punch came when I discovered the attack had been orchestrated from within our own ranks. The realization that a traitor lurked among us twisted my insides into knots. Fingers of suspicion pointed in every direction, but Lorenzo’s absence on Christmas Day, coupled with the fact he had been assigned to watch Serena that very afternoon, made him a prime suspect.

It was close to midnight when I pulled into the driveway, expecting the house to be cloaked in silence. Instead, warm light spilled from the living room into the foyer. There, Stefan sat curled on the couch, hunched over a small tablet, his brow furrowed deeply as he concentrated.

“Why are you still awake, amore?” I asked softly.

“I can’t sleep. Uncle Lorenzo gave me this,” he mumbled without lifting his eyes from the screen.

“Where is he?” I pressed, straining to catch any other sounds.

“Upstairs. They’re playing with Mom.” His voice was flat, distracted, completely absorbed in the tiny glowing world in his hands. Exactly why I had always dreaded these devices in the house.

“They?” I frowned, sensing something off.

Stefan stayed silent, eyes glued to the tablet.

“Keep playing here,” I said quietly, then rose and headed toward the stairs, gun in hand. My movements were slow and deliberate, practiced a thousand times before—silent, cautious, every sense alert for the faintest noise.

Outside Serena’s bedroom door, I paused. A sudden, unexpected sound reached me—a low grunt, wet and intimate, followed by a soft cry from a woman. Not the brutal sounds of torture I had prepared myself for, but something far more disturbing. These noises were wrong in a way that made every nerve in my body stand on edge.

I threw the door open, the wood slamming back against the wall.

The sight before me froze my blood. Serena, my heavily pregnant wife, was straddling Lorenzo across the bed. Beside them, our Don, Rico, knelt with his tongue pressed against Serena’s skin. All three of them were naked.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Serena shrieked, clutching her breasts as if I had less right to see them than Lorenzo—her own half-brother—or Rico, the man who was supposed to be our leader. Rico’s face twisted not with guilt but with the bold arrogance of a man who had been getting away with this for far too long. Lorenzo scrambled to cover himself.

A wave of bitter understanding and nausea washed over me: this was no isolated incident. It had been happening for a long time—perhaps as long as Serena and I had been married.

Betrayal tasted bitter in my mouth, quickly replaced by a burning thirst for vengeance. Lorenzo lunged for the gun on the nightstand. Without hesitation, I fired. Rico shoved Lorenzo forward, diving out onto the balcony just as the bullet tore through Lorenzo’s palm, spraying blood and flesh.

Lorenzo howled in agony.

“No!” Serena screamed, scrambling for the gun. I moved faster than I thought possible, wrapping my arms around her just above her swollen belly, forcing her down.

“No!” she yelled again, struggling to break free.

“Stop screaming,” I hissed. “Stefan doesn’t need to hear this.”

Her muffled cries rose in frantic desperation. She didn’t care if our son heard. Nothing mattered to her now except whatever had driven her beyond all the promises and vows we had made in front of family and friends. I pushed her into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. Outside, Serena pounded her fists against the door.

Lorenzo, shaking off the pain, reached again for the gun. I didn’t hesitate—I shot his other hand. The sick satisfaction at his agonized cry was hard to suppress. He collapsed backward, clutching his ruined hands.

“Adrian!” Serena’s voice was sharp and desperate.

“Serena, what the hell was Rico doing here? You and Lorenzo have always had a complicated relationship, but Rico? He’s my boss! Our Don! What the fuck was he doing in bed with my wife?”

“You wouldn’t dare hurt Rico or Lorenzo! Don’t you dare, or I swear I’ll kill this child inside me!”

I froze, eyes flicking to the bathroom door, disbelief washing over me. I stalked into the walk-in closet, grabbing tape and handcuffs before returning to the bedroom. Lorenzo was no longer a threat in his current state.

The laugh I forced was brittle and thin.

“I heard screaming,” Stefan said quietly.

“Yeah, they were playing chase and Mom just got scared,” I said, moving to his side and smoothing his hair. “I’m going to take you to bed now. You can keep playing if you want.”

He nodded, and I lifted him up, savoring the warmth of his small body against mine. He was the good part of me, the part Lorenzo would never touch today. After tucking him into bed, I locked his door behind me.

Back in Serena’s bedroom, I checked on her once more before dealing with Lorenzo. She lay where I’d left her, her eyes silently begging me to spare the man she had betrayed me with for years.

I turned away, unable to meet her gaze, and went to Lorenzo. After unlocking his cuffs, I grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him behind me, relishing the sound of his muffled cries. He fought like a wild animal as I pulled him down the stairs.

Damien arrived in the lobby just then, keys jingling in one hand, our most trusted doctor following close behind.

His eyes widened at the sight of Lorenzo’s bleeding hands, then quickly met mine. The doctor’s face remained calm and unreadable—he knew the rules. None of what he witnessed would ever leave this house.

“Serena’s upstairs,” I said. “Treat her. Make sure she and the baby are okay. Don’t leave her alone for a second—she threatened to hurt the child.”

I didn’t wait for a response. Instead, I shoved Lorenzo down the basement stairs. His fall ended with a muffled cry as he hit the floor. I followed him down, footsteps echoing behind me. I didn’t need to look back to know Damien was right behind.

Lorenzo lay in a crumpled heap at the base of the stairs, groaning softly. I grabbed him again and dragged him to a soundproof room, hoisting him onto a chair.

Damien studied me carefully. “Is he the rat?”

“Maybe,” I replied. “But he’s also a man who fucked his sister.”