His Merciless Redemption novel Chapter 135

Chapter 135

Isabella’s POV

The kitchen looked like a disaster.

Flour dusted the counters, streaked across Dominic’s black shirt, and somehow ended up in Mateo’s hair. The bowl sat between them like an opponent they were both determined to defeat.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Mateo announced very seriously.

Dominic narrowed his eyes at the whisk in his hand. “I’m following instructions.”

“You’re stirring too fast,” Mateo corrected. “Mama says slow circles. Not like you’re fighting it.”

I leaned against the counter, watching them, warmth spreading slowly through my chest.

“He’s right,” I said gently.

Dominic shot me a look. “Of course he is.”

Mateo beamed triumphantly. “See? Slow circles.”

Dominic adjusted immediately.

That was what undid me.

He adjusted.

Not defensively. Not with ego. Not with irritation.

But just because Mateo said so.

The sight of it felt almost unreal.

Five

years ago, if someone had told me Dominic Russo would be standing in a sunlit kitchen, taking baking instructions from our little boy, I would have laughed in their face.

And yet here he was.

Flour on his cheek.

Listening.

Present.

Mateo cracked an egg with exaggerated focus. It slipped slightly and a bit of shell dropped in.

He froze.

Dominic didn’t scold him.

He gently fished the shell out and said, “That happens to the best of us.”

Mateo grinned.

I swallowed hard.

This right here was everything I had built my life around when I left him. Stability. Kindness. Safety.

And Dominic fit into it with frightening ease.

Was it always meant to be like this? I wondered.

Had we lost years because we didn’t know how to stand still long enough to see each other properly?

“Mamma,” Mateo called, tugging at my sleeve. “Taste this.”

I leaned forward obediently and dipped my finger into the batter.

“Perfect,” I declared.

Dominic leaned in too. Our shoulders brushed. It was such a small contact, but it sent something steady through me.

We weren’t explosive.

weren’t dramatic.

We were normal.

And I hadn’t realized how much I missed normal.

When the cake went into the oven, Mateo leaned against Dominic’s side without thinking. Dominic stiffened for half a second, like he didn’t trust himself to deserve it, then rested his hand gently on Mateo’s shoulder.

My throat tightened..

He didn’t try to correct him.

He didn’t pull away.

He simply stayed.

And something inside me whispered that this is what it should have been like all along.

Later, when we reached the back garden for Mateo’s party, it looked like something out of a storybook by the time the guests

arrived.

Streamers swayed between trees. Rocket-shaped balloons floated above the tables. The grass glowed golden in the late afternoon light.

Mateo ran across the lawn the second his friends arrived, shouting greetings, laughter bursting out of him like it couldn’t be contained.

I stood near the patio, watching him, my heart so full it almost hurt.

I had done this alone for years.

Decorated alone. Planned alone. Cleaned up alone.

I never let myself feel the weight of it back then. I was too busy surviving.

Now, standing here, I realized how much of myself I had poured into building this safe, joyful world for him.

And Dominic stood beside me.

Not overshadowing it.

Not controlling it.

Just present.

As if he couldn’t believe he had been allowed into this moment.

!

And I realized something that shook me, that he wasn’t forcing his way into our family.

was trying to earn his place in it.

teo!” one of Mateo’s friends shouted.

Mateo ran to greet them, nearly tripping over his own excitement.

Lucia arrived with a wide smile and a gift bag. Mateo threw himself into her arms.

“I missed you!”

“I can see that,” she laughed.

Chiara appeared next, carrying a neatly wrapped box. “Director of Curation approves of this event,” she said solemnly.

Mateo giggled.

Luca showed up last, holding a suspiciously large package. “This one required tools.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“Probably,” Luca replied dryly. It was clear Dominic didn’t like him, and I could say the same for Luca now, too. But at least they were trying to be civil today for Mateo’s sake.

I focused on Mateo, bouncing around with his friends with a warmth that felt almost overwhelming.

Caterina and Maria sat comfortably under the shade, laughing as children ran past their chairs. Even Vittoria, Salvatore and Alessia remained distant but civil, observing from the patio without commentary.

Mateo opened gifts with dramatic commentary.

“This is amazing!”

“Ohhh this one is heavy!”

“Dominic, look at this!”

Dominic crouched beside him, smiling in a way I hadn’t seen in years.

Then Mateo unwrapped Luca’s gift, a small telescope, and gasped.

“So I can look at rockets in space?”

“Stars,” Luca corrected.

“Same thing,” Mateo decided.

Chiara’s gift was a beautifully illustrated book about explorers. Lucia had brought a handmade sweater.

Then Dominic handed Mateo a box.

Mateo tore into it.

nside was a model rocket kit, intricate, detailed, and perfect. We had discussed about this in detail before getting him this particular model.

Mateo froze for a second.

“You remembered,” he said softly.

Dominic nodded. “You mentioned it once.”

Mateo looked up at him with something like awe.

“Thank you, Dominic.”

My chest tightened unexpectedly.

Not Papa.

Not yet.

But something in Dominic’s expression told me he didn’t need the word right now.

He needed the trust.

And he was earning it.

When it was finally time for cake, Mateo insisted all three of us carry it out together.

He stood between us, small hands gripping ours, leading us towards the table.

The candles flickered in the golden evening light.

Everyone sang loudly and off-key.

Mateo closed his eyes before blowing them out.

I watched him make his wish.

And I watched Dominic watching him.

There was a softness in Dominic’s gaze I hadn’t seen in years.

A kind of reverence.

After cake, children scattered into games Dominic had arranged thoughtfully, laughter echoing through the garden.

Dominic stood beside me as we watched Mateo chase balloons.

“You did this every year?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

le nodded slowly. “You gave him everything.”

I looked at him.

“I gave him stability,” I said. “Not everything.”

He didn’t argue.

Instead, he said softly, “I’m grateful you let me be here.”

The honesty in his voice made something shift inside me.

Because the truth was, he fit, and easily so.

Like he had always been meant to stand here, in this garden, holding a paper plate and watching our son laugh.

For the first time in a long time, the idea of a future didn’t feel fragile.

It felt possible.

I imagined more birthdays.

More messy kitchens.

More evenings like this.

Dominic beside me, not as a storm or a threat, but as family.

Mateo ran towards us suddenly, arms wide.

“Group hug!”

Dominic and I laughed as we both leaned down.

Mateo wrapped his arms around us as far as they would reach.

And for a moment, there were no explosions, no secrets, no threats.

Just the three of us.

!

And the simple, undeniable truth that happiness didn’t have to be dramatic to be real.

It could be flour on a shirt.

Chocolate on a cheek.

And a wish blown into warm summer air.

And as I looked at Dominic, I realized something quietly, deeply certain-

Happiness didn’t need fireworks either.

eded us.

today, we had that.