Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 60

Chapter 60

ADRIAN

THE PAST

Sofia arrived into the world a month later, delivered by cesarean section.

Serena’s mental state had deteriorated significantly. We had no choice but to restrain her at night and assign someone to watch her every single moment of the day—even during the briefest trips to the bathroom. Elia, Sybil, and Gemma took turns keeping constant vigil over her. I couldn’t even bear to be in the same room without her spiraling into hysteria. I avoided her whenever possible, though it pained me in ways I hadn’t expected. Although I never truly loved Serena, her betrayal cut deeper than I imagined it could. My home, once a sanctuary where I found peace after exhausting workdays, now felt shrouded in a suffocating darkness. My children, who had always been my guiding light, were now overshadowed by this bitterness.

Stefan didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to visit his mother, but I feared for him—and for what Serena might say to him. Serena was always spiteful, and now she had even more reasons to despise me.

The day after Sofia was born, since Serena refused to have me present during the labor, I finally held her in my arms. In that moment, I fell completely in love with that tiny girl. Blood ties seemed insignificant then, and I silently vowed that I would never let them define us.

Serena never recovered from Lorenzo’s death. When she couldn’t reach Rico either, her mind twisted into believing I had killed him as well. I never corrected her. I didn’t admit it at the time, but a small, dark part of me wanted her to feel the same pain I was drowning in.

I was naïve to think she could move on—for Stefan’s and Sofia’s sake. For a while, she fooled me into believing she might. She took medication that calmed her, and gradually, she appeared almost like her old self. Sybil and Gemma still bore most of the responsibility for caring for Stefan and Sofia, but things seemed to be improving. We managed to maintain appearances in public and avoided each other behind closed doors. Occasionally, we even settled for a polite exchange, but the hatred burning in Serena’s eyes always reminded me of the harsh truth: I had killed the man she loved. Forgiveness was never going to come from her, and truthfully, I didn’t need it. All I wanted was for her to find within herself the strength to care for our children.

But Serena poured most of her love and attention into Lorenzo’s last gift: Milo. She treated the dog as though it were a human child, showering it with affection and kind words that should have been reserved for Stefan and Sofia.

I refused to leave her alone with our children. Either Sybil or Gemma had to be nearby because I couldn’t trust Serena—not after everything. The thought that she might harm our children just to hurt me as deeply as Lorenzo’s death had hurt her haunted me relentlessly. Though I never truly believed she was capable of infanticide, doubt crept in, poisoning my peace. Night after night, images of my children’s lifeless bodies tormented my dreams.

We lived a facade, one that grew heavier and more unbearable with every passing day. Yet somehow, I adapted to it.

Six months after Sofia’s birth, on the day marking our sixth anniversary, Serena ended it all.

I had made dinner reservations at our favorite restaurant to maintain appearances, but the moment I stepped through the front door, I knew something was terribly wrong.

The house was eerily silent. Too silent. Normally, I appreciated quiet, but this oppressive stillness echoed ominously off the walls, setting my nerves on edge.

I found Sybil asleep on the sofa. Shaking her gently, she stirred but her eyes remained glassy and unfocused.

“I’m so sorry, Master. I must have dozed off,” she murmured apologetically.

“What kind of sleep is that? I told you to be vigilant around Serena!” I snapped, releasing her. “Where are Stefan and Sofia?”

Sybil blinked, her eyes widening in panic. I bolted upstairs but froze halfway up on the second-floor landing. Bloody paw prints, small and smeared, stained the beige carpet.

Stefan’s chin lifted weakly before his head lolled back. “I want Mommy.”

“Stefan?” He collapsed back to the floor.

“Sybil, take the kids downstairs and call an ambulance immediately! I think Serena might have given them something. Hurry!”

Sybil gasped sharply, gathering the two children in her arms with practiced ease. Her footsteps hurried downstairs, and moments later, I heard her voice on the phone, urgent and trembling.

I slowly approached Serena’s bedroom. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside.

A familiar scent filled the air—one that had never meant anything to me before, but from this moment on, it would haunt me forever. Even knowing what I was about to see, the sight hit me like a brutal blow.

One of Serena’s arms hung limply over the side of the bed, blood dripping steadily onto the polished hardwood floor. Milo sat beneath, eagerly licking the sticky crimson droplets from her fingertips.

The dog was soaked in blood, the sheer amount telling me there was no need to call an ambulance for my wife. My experience in business had taught me how much blood a human body could lose before intervention was necessary—before death became inevitable.

Serena was gone.