Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 89

**Chapter 89**

**VALENTINA**

The piercing bark of Milo shattered the tense silence, reverberating off the walls like an urgent alarm. It filled the air with an unsettling energy, a warning that something was amiss.

Serena remained unfazed, her focus unwavering.

I, on the other hand, felt the chill of fear creep up my spine.

“Call him off,” she commanded, the blade in her hand catching the light like a beacon of danger.

“I—I can’t,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course you can. He listens to you,” she hissed, her tone laced with venom as if my reluctance was a personal affront. “Tell him to stop right now.”

“No.” The word escaped my lips, trembling with fear.

“For God’s sake, Valentina,” she snapped, taking another menacing step closer, the knife still poised in her grip. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” My heart raced, pounding in my chest like a war drum. “You’re the one brandishing a knife, trying to stab me!”

“I’m not trying to,” she retorted, rolling her eyes as if I were the foolish one. “I meant to stab you.” Her voice rose, dripping with disdain. “There’s a difference.”

Milo’s barking escalated, his claws skidding across the marble floor below as he sensed the chaos unfolding. The growls echoed up the staircase, a thunderous warning that sent shivers down my spine.

“Shut that damn dog up,” Serena snarled, frustration lacing her words.

“Leave her alone!” I shot back, anger igniting within me. “She won’t stop because she senses danger. Maybe because you’re pointing a knife at me!”

Serena tilted her head, her cold, hollow gaze scrutinizing me as if I were an enigma she couldn’t solve. “Valentina,” she whispered, each syllable dripping with disdain. “You were supposed to help me. You were supposed to understand.”

“I do understand! I’m literally trying to help you! You’re the one trying to kill me!” My voice echoed with desperation.

A chilling smile crept across her face, a small, sinister curl of her lips that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. I shuddered involuntarily. She resembled a doll possessed by something dark. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

“You’re holding a knife!” I exclaimed, incredulity lacing my tone.

“I’m trying,” she said, her voice dropping to a haunting calm, “to fix my life.”

My breath hitched in my throat. “By stabbing me?”

Her expression hardened, resolve flickering in her eyes. “By removing the obstacle… easy peasy.”

Her words sliced through me like her blade. “Serena… please—”

In an instant, she lunged forward again, and I turned too late to evade her.

A searing pain erupted in my upper arm, sharp and white-hot, as the blade tore through flesh and muscle. I gasped, clutching the wound instinctively as warm blood seeped between my fingers.

“Funnuck!” I cried out, shock mingling with agony.

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” Serena’s mocking voice came too close for comfort. “It’s just a little cut.”

“Stay the hell away from me,” I gasped, stumbling back, my legs quaking uncontrollably. My knees felt as if they might buckle beneath me.

Milo’s barking reached a fever pitch, a frantic, almost hysterical sound that echoed through the chaos.

Serena’s sinister smile vanished, replaced by a tight frown, her lips twisting in frustration. She lunged again, but adrenaline surged through me, and I shoved her back—not with force, just enough to disrupt her momentum.

She staggered, hissing like a cornered animal.

“You’re making this messy,” she snapped, irritation dripping from her words.

“You’re insane,” I rasped, my voice trembling.

Before I could process what was happening, she reached for me, her fingers stretching toward my shoulder. Instinct kicked in, and I shifted my weight sideways, pressing myself tightly against the banister.

Her hand missed me entirely, causing her to lose her balance.

Her foot slipped on the edge of the step.

And in that agonizing moment, Serena DeLuca pitched forward.

“Serena—!” I gasped, reaching out in a futile attempt to catch her.

My fingers barely grazed hers, but it was too late.

She tumbled down the staircase, her body twisting and turning violently as gravity pulled her downwards. Her hair whipped around her face, the knife clattering from her grip halfway down, and then—

She hit the marble floor below.

A sickening crack echoed through the foyer as her head collided with the ground, a sound that would forever be etched in my memory.

Milo’s barking ceased abruptly.

Silence enveloped the room, punctuated only by my ragged breaths.

The front doors burst open in that heavy stillness.

Elia and Domenico rushed inside, guns half-drawn, their expressions shifting from urgency to horror as they took in the scene.

Their eyes followed the trail of devastation: from Serena’s broken body on the marble floor, to the blood-streaked stairs, to the knife lying a few feet away, and finally to me, frozen on the steps, blood soaking my arm.

Elia’s jaw dropped in disbelief, while Domenico’s hand flew to his mouth, shock washing over his features.

And as the reality of the situation settled in, Elia whispered under his breath, barely audible, “…what the actual fuck.”