Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 81

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

**Chapter 81**

**VALENTINA**

“Mrs. DeLuca?”

The soft, tentative voice pulled me from the depths of slumber, my eyelids fluttering open as I struggled to orient myself. My body felt heavy, as if it was entangled in a thick fog, unfamiliar against the plush mattress beneath me. I blinked several times at the ceiling, the patterns swirling above slowly coming into focus. It took a moment for realization to wash over me—I was back in my own bed.

“Elia?” I croaked, my voice raspy and barely above a whisper, as if the very act of speaking required more effort than I could muster.

He stood in the doorway, a silhouette framed by the soft light filtering in from the hallway. One hand rested against the doorframe for support, while the other cradled a tray laden with steaming coffee and golden-brown toast. His expression reflected a mix of concern and caution, as if he feared that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile peace of the moment. “You fainted last night,” he said softly, his voice barely above a murmur. “I was coming in for some water when I heard the thud. I found you unconscious in the kitchen. You must’ve been exhausted.”

I pushed myself up slowly, each movement sending tremors through my limbs. “Fainted?” I echoed, the word feeling foreign on my tongue as I tried to piece together the events of the previous night.

Fragments of memory began to flood back—flashes of the light switch being flicked on, a scream clawing its way out of my throat, and the haunting image of a woman with long, dark hair cascading down her back.

My heart began to race, each beat echoing in my ears. “What… What time did you find me?” I asked, urgency lacing my voice.

“At around 2 AM. You were on the floor. The light was still on.” Elia hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. “You looked… frightened.”

“I—” I swallowed hard, my throat dry and scratchy. “Did you see her?”

He frowned, confusion clouding his features. “See who?”

I searched his gaze, looking for any hint of deception, any flicker that might suggest he was hiding the truth. But Elia’s expression was one of genuine bewilderment.

“No one,” I replied quickly, forcing out a shaky laugh that felt more like a desperate attempt to mask my fear. “I was just… having a nightmare, I think.”

He nodded slowly, though his eyes lingered on the space where the memory of the woman had just been. “You should eat something. You look pale.”

“What about the children?” I asked, a sudden wave of concern washing over me.

“Sybil has them downstairs,” he assured me.

“Thank you,” I murmured, taking the tray from him, my fingers brushing against his as I did so.

Once he left the room, I sat in silence, staring at the steaming cup of coffee until the surface stilled. My reflection stared back at me—hollow eyes, chapped lips, and the faint trace of tears glistening on my cheek.

It hadn’t been a dream. I could still feel the chair scraping against the floor, the lingering scent of a perfume that was not mine, and the way the woman had trembled before she fled.

But then there was the memory of Serena’s funeral.

I hadn’t attended. My father and brother had gone in my stead. They had told me that Adrian had remained stoic throughout, that there had been a coffin, a headstone. People don’t return from being buried like that.

I set the tray aside, pressing my palms against my temples as my pulse thudded in my ears.

Maybe I was losing my mind.

A buzz from the nightstand startled me, and I flinched as the phone lit up, revealing Adrian’s name on the screen.

I hesitated, my heart racing as I answered. “Hey.”

“Hey, amore.” His voice was warm and familiar, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me. “How are my babies this morning?”

I struggled to draw a breath deep enough to fill my lungs. “We’re fine,” I replied softly. “The kids are downstairs with Sybil.”

“Good.” I could hear the faint sounds of chatter in the background—perhaps he was still in the hotel lobby or maybe the office. “And you? Did you sleep well?”

I paused too long, the silence stretching between us like an unwelcome chasm. “I… I guess,” I finally managed.

He chuckled lightly, the sound soothing yet unsettling. “That doesn’t sound convincing, Valentina.”

“Just… bad dreams,” I murmured, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing.”

“You’ve been having those a lot lately,” he observed gently. “Maybe you’re overworked. Or maybe it’s the house being so quiet without me.”

I attempted a smile, but it felt hollow and wrong. “Maybe.”

A brief silence enveloped us, and then his voice softened even further. “Valentina?”

“Mm?”

“You sound far away. Is something wrong?”

My throat tightened, and the words nearly spilled out. I wanted to confess, to say, “Adrian, I saw her. I saw Serena.” But the memory of that woman’s face, her wide, terrified eyes, surged back, drowning me in fear.

“Don’t tell him,” Serena had whispered. “Please.”

I closed my eyes, gripping the edge of the blanket tightly. “No,” I finally replied, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Good.” His relief was palpable, a sigh escaping him. “Listen, I’ll call again tonight, okay? Kiss the kids for me.”

“I will.”

“And Valentina?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

It took me a heartbeat too long to respond. “I love you too.”

When the line went dead, I found myself staring at the phone for what felt like an eternity before gently placing it back on the bed.

By midmorning, restlessness took hold of me, and I could no longer sit still. I dressed quickly, barely tasting the breakfast Elia had prepared, and made my way downstairs. Sybil was busy dusting the hallway mirror, her movements methodical.

“Sybil,” I said, my voice sounding strange and distant to my own ears. “Do you remember Serena’s funeral?”

She froze mid-swipe, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Of course, ma’am. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged lightly, forcing a casual demeanor. “Just thinking about it. It must’ve been hard for everyone.”

“Yes,” Sybil replied slowly, her voice cautious.

He frowned slightly, concern etching his features. “Where to?”

“The cemetery.”

Elia parked the car at the far end of the graveyard, near the DeLuca family plot. The ancient trees loomed overhead, their branches heavy with frost, creating a somber atmosphere. The air was sharp, biting at my skin as I stepped out, the crunch of gravel beneath my shoes echoing in the stillness.

“You don’t have to come,” I said, glancing back at him.

“I’ll stay close,” he replied, scanning the surroundings with a watchful eye.

I walked between rows of marble and granite, each grave telling a silent story. Some were new, their surfaces gleaming white; others bore inscriptions that had weathered the passage of time, nearly erased by the elements.

And then I saw it.

**SERENA DELUCA – BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER 1993-2023.**

The letters were carved deep into the stone, polished to a shine. Someone had recently left flowers—white lilies, now wilted from the cold.

My throat constricted painfully.

It was real. There it was—her name, her birth date, and her death date.

I knelt down, my hand trembling as I reached out to touch the name. The stone was cold under my fingertips, a stark reminder of the finality of life.

But even as I stared at it, the memories of the previous night replayed in vivid detail. The woman’s posture, the way she had turned at the sound of my voice, the sheer terror in her eyes as she fled upstairs.

If Serena was in my kitchen last night… then who was buried here?

“Mrs. DeLuca?” Elia’s voice broke through my thoughts, gentle and concerned.

I didn’t turn to face him. “You said you were at the funeral too?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you saw her? The coffin?”

“Yes.”

“Of course,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips.

I continued to stare at the headstone, my vision blurring as tears threatened to spill. The world felt as though it was tilting sideways—half of my mind screaming for logic, while the other whispered that perhaps, just perhaps, the dead didn’t always stay buried.

When I finally stood, I brushed my hands over my coat, my movements mechanical. “Take me home.”

Elia opened the car door for me, his eyes lingering on my face as I climbed in. I didn’t utter another word during the drive back home, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic dance.

As I climbed the stairs slowly, my mind replayed every word Serena had whispered to me—“Don’t tell him. Please.”

With trembling fingers, I touched the edge of the mirror, my reflection staring back at me. I whispered to myself, “I have to know the truth.”

Because if everyone else was lying, if Adrian had deceived me… then maybe Serena was the only one left who could reveal the truth.