Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 91

**Through Shadows We Painted Our Forever by Erynn Vel Coren**
**Chapter 91**

**VALENTINA**

The details of how I came to be here were a blur, a fog of confusion wrapped tightly around my mind. I couldn’t recall the moment I had turned on the water, nor could I remember shedding my clothes or stepping into the tub.

What lingered vividly in my mind was a single, haunting color: red.

Red smeared across the steps.

Red staining my arm.

Red splattering the marble floor when her head struck the ground.

It felt as if that crimson had trailed behind me, a ghostly companion, for now the bathwater swirled in that same, dreadful hue.

I was trapped in a murky blend of emotions, unable to discern where Serena ended and I began.

Hugging my legs tightly to my chest, I rested my chin atop my knees, seeking comfort in that small, curled position.

It wasn’t until I began to shiver, my teeth tapping together like two fragile pieces of porcelain, that I realized the water had turned icy. Yet, I felt no inclination to move. I didn’t reach for the steaming tap to warm the water or step out of the tub like any rational person would. I simply sat there, staring vacantly at the swirling red around me.

The vibrant, shocking red had faded, transforming into a murky watercolor—pinkish in some areas, brownish in others—cloudy and reminiscent of something long spoiled. My skin felt numb beneath it. The cut on my arm throbbed intermittently, but the pain was not what one would expect. Instead, it served as a grim reminder of my own existence, a stark contrast to the reality of a woman who had just fallen to her death right in front of my eyes.

The crack.

God.

That sound echoed relentlessly in my mind.

I tightened my grip around my legs, feeling the tension coil within me.

I focused on the rippling water, willing it to remain still, as if my stillness could somehow halt the memories from replaying beneath the surface. But the red continued to spread in thin, ghostly currents, a cruel reminder that the horror was still alive within me.

The bathroom door creaked open slowly.

“Valentina?”

Adrian’s voice sliced through the silence, deep and filled with an urgency that sent a shiver down my spine. I remained motionless.

I heard him draw a breath, quiet and measured, before the door swung fully open. I didn’t lift my gaze, but I sensed the way his footsteps faltered as he took in the scene—the blood-tinted water, the stark reality of my nakedness, trembling in it like a lifeless body.

“Jesus, Valentina,” he breathed out, his voice trembling. “You’re freezing.”

I didn’t feel cold, not really, but I was shaking. I could only imagine how I appeared from his perspective: a wife submerged in her own blood, silent and unmoving, a ghost of the person I used to be.

He stepped closer, the water rippling gently beneath his weight.

“Val… can you hear me?” His voice softened, an urgent plea. “Baby, look at me.”

Baby.

The word hung in the air, heavy and bittersweet.

I almost laughed, but no sound escaped my lips. Not even a breath that resembled one.

The water rippled again as he knelt beside the tub. His reflection danced upon the surface, distorted by each wave, creating an image that felt fragmented and far from reality. His suit jacket was absent, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms taut with tension. His hair was tousled, a clear indication of the frantic state he must have been in during the flight home.

Yet, none of it mattered in this moment.

“Valentina.” His voice cracked slightly, a plea wrapped in desperation. “Talk to me. Please.”

When I remained silent, I heard him exhale, a sound heavy with resignation. He reached for a towel, his movements careful.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured, concern lacing his tone. “You need to get out of the water. You’re going to get sick. Stand up, sweetheart. Come on.”

He reached toward my arm, but I instinctively jerked it away.

His hand halted mid-air, suspended in a moment of painful silence. I could feel the tension thickening between us, a palpable shift as he realized I wasn’t going to respond. He took a step back, perhaps two, and his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Okay,” he said softly. “If you don’t want to talk right now, I’ll give you space.”

He was leaving. A surge of anger welled up within me. Why did that infuriate me? Perhaps it was because he always made decisions for me, always walked away after determining what I needed. So I stopped him.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, as he spun around with a speed that surprised even me. “What?”

“Are you going to kill me, Adrian?”

“Why would you think that? Of course not. What the hell, Valentina? You know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

I scoffed, the sound bitter on my tongue. “Wouldn’t you?”

Adrian stepped closer to the edge of the bathtub again, his expression shifting to one of confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Isn’t that what Underbosses do? Torture their wives, lock them away in hidden rooms, and then eliminate the new wife when she discovers the truth?”

“Valentina…”

“Look at what you did to Serena. She was your wife too, and look how you treated her. Why would it be any different for me? I’m not special… I know you’ll do anything to protect your dirty little secret. So tell me, Adrian, are you going to kill me?”

With a heavy heart, I lifted my head slowly, as if it were burdened with the weight of the world. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, I saw the guilt and fear reflected back at me.

“No, Valentina. I’m not going to kill you.”

“Why?” I repeated, my voice dull and hollow. “Why did this happen in my house, Adrian?”

He blinked, his expression pained. “Valentina, please. You’re cold. Get out of the tub, and we’ll talk about—”

“No.”

He inhaled sharply, frustration etching his features. “Val—”

“I’m not getting out.” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Not until you tell me why I had to watch her fall. Why she tried to kill me. Why she was even here to begin with.”

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