Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 58

ADRIAN

REFLECTIONS OF THE PAST

The moment Damien stepped into the dimly lit room, his eyes widened sharply as they settled on Lorenzo’s bare form. For a fleeting instant, he looked like a man overwhelmed, someone who had witnessed too much yet still found himself unprepared for this brutal sight. “Adrian—” he began hesitantly.

“Don’t,” I cut him off firmly, my voice low and resolute. I didn’t want his pity. I never did. Pity felt like defeat, a bitter taste I couldn’t afford to swallow tonight—not when failure was the last thing I could bear.

Damien ran a hand across his face, his fingers trembling slightly as he muttered a curse under his breath. He understood exactly what needed to happen next—the grim script our lives seemed bound to follow whenever someone crossed a line. That knowledge aged him in an instant; he looked older than I had ever seen him before.

I moved toward Lorenzo, yanking the tape from his mouth without hesitation. “Now, we’re going to talk,” I said, my tone cold and unyielding.

He spat a thick glob of blood and saliva onto my shoe, almost like a rebellious blessing, and snarled, “There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Oh, but there is,” I replied, my hands closing around his throat until I could feel the rapid pulse beneath my fingertips. The room seemed to shrink around me—the sharp scent of iron mingled with sweat, and the pounding of my own blood echoed in my ears. “How long have you been sleeping with my wife?”

Lorenzo smirked lazily, his expression dripping with insolence. “Long enough,” he said, as if that answered everything.

“Tell me how long!” I demanded again, shaking him until his teeth rattled in his mouth.

His laughter twisted into something cruel and ugly. “She was mine before she was ever yours,” he spat.

The words struck me like a fist to the face. “What the hell does that even mean?” I asked, feeling foolish for needing to hear it out loud.

For a brief moment, Lorenzo’s head lolled back, blood dripping from his lips. He was losing too much blood, fading fast, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t leaving this basement alive. “Since we were teenagers,” he rasped. “She’s been mine for years. But for some reason, she wanted Rico too. She let him take her virginity before she ever did anything with me. You probably won’t understand, but she loves us both—Rico and me.”

Inside my skull, a relentless ticking began, like a bomb counting down. I did the math. Serena and I had been married for six years. Rage ignited inside me, a fire I could barely control. “You’re lying.”

“Why? Because she bled the first time you were together?” he sneered. “There are doctors for that now.”

I had remained faithful through it all, even when Serena barely tolerated my presence and we shared a bed only once or twice a month. I didn’t care. I kept my vows, while she trampled on them from day one. I trusted both her and Lorenzo—he was her half-brother, after all. I had even allowed him to be her sole bodyguard because she asked me to.

And all the while, she had been sleeping not with one, but two men behind my back. How blind had I been? How many times had they done it on my own bed? The thought made me sick. I was forced to bow to Rico, call him Don, while he was fucking my wife in secret.

I didn’t give a damn about what had happened before our wedding night—whether she was a virgin or not—but every betrayal since then cut me deeper than any blade could.

My fists clenched until my knuckles cracked loudly.

Damien’s voice broke through the storm in my mind. “Remember the bikers,” he reminded me quietly. “We still need names and leads, Adrian. We can’t lose focus.”

Lorenzo’s eyes flickered with a twisted smugness I wanted to wipe from his face. “If you want to keep an heir,” he croaked, his voice ragged with pain, “you’ll keep Serena alive. Stefan and Sofia? They’re not even yours. Stefan belongs to Rico, and I’m pretty sure Sofia’s mine.”

The ceiling tiles above spun in my vision. For a moment, all I could hear was the rushing static in my ears. Then everything blurred. I lunged at him—my hands moving before my brain could catch up—and the first blow landed with the brutal precision of a man who had nothing left to lose. I kept striking, fists hammering into his face, ribs, and the soft flesh beneath his jaw. I beat him relentlessly until the world blurred and my lungs screamed for air.

“Adrian! Stop!” Damien grabbed my shoulders, trying to pull me back. I shoved his hands away and pushed him into the wall. He slid down, cursing as he hit the floor. But my fists didn’t stop, striking a body that no longer responded.

Damien shook his head slowly. “He deserves everything you want to do to him. But Adrian, you know how our system works. Rico’s at the top. Even if you manage to kill him, his supporters will come after you. You won’t survive it.”

“But Stefan…”

“We don’t even know if Rico suspects the kid might be his. And I still believe Lorenzo was lying just to rile you up. Look at Stefan—how could he not be yours?”

I stared down at the chaos my anger had wrought. My mouth dried as the weight of it all pressed down on me. “It probably wasn’t as quick and painless as he hoped,” I said, giving Damien a look that left no room for sentiment.

“No,” Damien agreed, following my gaze. “Not quick. But if you ask me, it’s less messy than what he deserved.”

I leaned back against the cold wall, uncertain where to go from here. My wife had betrayed me, admitted she’d rather see me dead, even threatened to kill our baby—if it was even ours.

My chest tightened painfully, each breath a struggle.

“What are you going to do now?” Damien asked carefully. I met his cautious eyes.

“With Serena?” he clarified, as if I didn’t already know.

“I don’t know.” The thought of killing her was impossible. She was still my wife, still the mother of Stefan and Sofia. My head dropped forward under the crushing weight of emotions crashing over me.

Chapter 59