His Merciless Redemption novel Chapter 142

Chapter 142

Dominic’s POV

Two days.

It had been two days since we brought her home, and nothing had improved.

If anything, she seemed to be slipping further away.

She barely spoke, barely ate, barely moved.

It was like someone had taken the core out of her and left behind a shell that just merely existed.

Her parents hovered constantly, so did my mother and aunt. Even Maria tried to be there for her as much as possible. But nothing seemed to be working. Grief hung over the house like a cloak. The villa itself felt like a house in mourning.

I suggested a counselor for Alessia that morning.

“A psychological specialist,” I said carefully while sitting at the edge of her bed. “Someone who deals with grief like this.”

Alessia didn’t even look at me. “I don’t want to talk,” she said flatly.

“It might help.”

“There’s nothing to help,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“It’s gone,” she whispered after a moment.

There was the word again. Gone.

I’d been spoon-feeding her meals because she refused food from anyone else. I didn’t know why. Maybe because I had been the one who carried her that day. Maybe because she clung to the one constant she had left.

Or maybe because guilt binds people tighter than love sometimes.

That evening, I sat beside her again with a bowl of soup.

“Just a little,” I said quietly.

She opened her mouth obediently, swallowed, but her expression remained empty.

After a few bites, she turned her head away. “I’m tired.”

“You’ve been tired all day.”

“I don’t sleep,” she whispered and there was something in her voice that unsettled me deeply. “I lie there. I

think. I hear things.”

“Hear what?”

“My baby,” she said softly. “Crying.”

A cold wave passed through me but I shook the feeling away, focusing on her instead. “That’s just your mind,” I said gently.

She looked at me then, and her eyes looked distant.

“Life feels empty,” she said. “Like someone turned the color off. I feel alone.”

My chest tightened.

“You’re not alone,” I told her firmly. “You have your parents. You have me. You have my family.”

She nodded slowly, but I could tell she didn’t believe it.

“Alessia,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “You matter. This isn’t the end of your life.”

She didn’t respond, simply turning her head away.

After dinner, I tucked her into bed like she was fragile porcelain, pulled the blanket up, smoothed her hair back.

“I’ll check on you later,” I said.

She didn’t reply.

I waited until her breathing evened out before leaving.

I found Isabella in the sitting room.

She looked up when I walked in.

“How is she?” she asked softly.

“Worse,” I admitted.

I sank into the chair opposite her. “She says she feels alone,” I said quietly. “Like the world has no meaning.”

Isabella’s eyes filled immediately. “No woman should ever have to feel that,” she whispered, pressing her hands together.

“I can’t imagine the pain,” she said. “To feel something growing inside you and then-”

She stopped, swallowing thickly.

“I hope no one ever has to go through that.”

The sincerity in her voice was raw.

“Maybe you should check on her once more before sleeping,” she added gently. “Just in case.”

I nodded.

“I will.”

I didn’t know then how much that suggestion would matter.

The house was quiet.

Everyone had retreated to their rooms.

I climbed the stairs slowly, not wanting to wake anyone unnecessarily.

I opened Alessia’s door quietly.

The bed was empty.

For a second, my brain refused to process it.

She hadn’t left this room in days, not even once.

“Alessia?” I called softly.

No answer.

My heartbeat picked up.

The bathroom door was open. Empty.

The lights were off except for the faint glow from the balcony.

I stepped outside.

She was sitting in one of the chairs.

Head tilted slightly, still.

For a moment, relief washed over me. She must have come out for air, must have fallen asleep.

“Alessia,” I said quietly, approaching.

She didn’t move, so I bent down, reaching to lift her gently.

That was when something rolled under my shoe.

I looked down.

A pill bottle.

My stomach dropped.

I picked it up. They were sleeping pills and the bottle was empty. Completely empty.

No.

No.

“Alessia,” I said sharply, shaking her shoulders.

Her head lolled slightly.

Her breathing, I realised with sharp clarity, was too shallow, too slow.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

“Alessia!”

No response.

Panic hit me full force.

I scooped her up instantly, her body feeling heavier than it should have.

“Marco!” I shouted as I ran down the stairs. “Get the car!”

My voice tore through the house.

Doors flew open.

Her mother appeared first, eyes wide.

“What happened?”

“She took something!” I barked.

Her father swore under his breath.

Isabella appeared at the top of the stairs, pale.

“What happened?”

“Pills!” I shouted. “Sleeping pills!”

Her mother gasped, covering her mouth.

“Call ahead to the hospital!” I yelled.

I carried Alessia down the stairs, my heart pounding so violently I could hear it in my ears.

“Stay with me,” I muttered to her. “Stay with me.”

Her head rested limply against my arm.

“Don’t do this,” I whispered harshly. “Don’t you dare.”

The car screeched to a stop outside.

I slid into the backseat with her in my arms.

“Drive!” I ordered.

The engine roared, her mother climbing into the front seat. Her father was already on the phone.

Isabella stood frozen on the driveway for a split second before running towards another car.

The villa lights blazed behind us as we sped into the night.

I held Alessia tighter, her breathing was still there, but faint.

“Stay awake,” I begged under my breath.

For the second time in a week, I was racing towards the hospital with blood on my hands.

And this time, if I lost her too, I didn’t know what that would make me.

田

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