His Merciless Redemption novel Chapter 143

Chapter 143

Dominic’s POV

The hospital at night felt different somehow, brighter, harsher, like there was nowhere for fear to hide.

We had barely stopped the car before the emergency staff rushed out with a stretcher. I handed Alessia over, but my hands resisted letting go.

“She took sleeping pills,” I said sharply. “The bottle was empty.”

“How many milligrams?” one of them asked.

“I don’t know.”

They wheeled her inside. The doors shut. And just like that, we were outside again, waiting.

Her mother was shaking. Her father stood rigid, jaw clenched so tightly I thought he might crack a tooth.

Isabella stood slightly apart from everyone else, pale, silent and clearly worried.

Vittoria and Salvatore arrived twenty minutes later, breathless and alarmed.

“What happened?” Vittoria demanded.

“She overdosed. They’ve taken her inside,” her father said grimly.

The word echoed.

Overdosed.

It sounded violent in its finality.

I ran my hands through my hair and began pacing.

My mind wouldn’t stop replaying the image of the empty pill bottle rolling at my feet.

If I hadn’t gone back, if I had just gone to sleep, if I hadn’t listened to Isabella. The thoughts made my stomach turn.

Time stretched into something unbearable.

Her mother was praying under her breath. Her father stared at the doors like he could force them open with sheer will.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably less than one, the doors opened.

A doctor stepped out.

We all stood at once.

“She’s stable,” he said immediately.

Air rushed back into my lungs.

“Your prompt reaction made a significant difference,” he continued.

“How bad was it?” I asked.

“She ingested a high dose of sedative-hypnotic medication, the sleeping pills. These medications depress the central nervous system. In large quantities, they slow breathing, lower heart rate, and can cause loss of consciousness. In severe cases, it can lead to respiratory failure.”

Her mother gasped softly.

“We performed gastric decontamination,” he continued. “We administered activated charcoal to absorb any remaining drug in her system, and we’re monitoring her oxygen levels closely. Fortunately, she was brought in early enough that we could intervene before severe complications occurred.”

I exhaled slowly.

“She’s unconscious but stable,” he said. “Her breathing is assisted, and we’re monitoring her vitals continuously.”

Her father nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”

“There is one more thing,” the doctor added.

My chest tightened again.

“In cases of intentional overdose, we are required by law to file a report. It is standard protocol. The hospital must notify authorities and conduct a psychiatric evaluation before discharge.”

Of course.

I nodded once.

“I’ll handle whatever is required,” I said.

The doctor studied me briefly, recognizing the tone.

“This isn’t a criminal accusation,” he clarified. “It’s protective protocol. The goal is ensuring patient safety.”

“I understand,” I replied.

“And given her recent miscarriage,” he continued, glancing at his tablet, “the psychological stress is significant. Her medical history shows acute grief reaction. We strongly recommend immediate psychiatric counseling and possibly medication for depression or trauma-related symptoms.”

“I agree,” I said without hesitation.

Her mother looked shaken.

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“Medication?” she whispered.

“Only if clinically necessary,” the doctor said gently. “But therapy is essential.”

I nodded again. I was ready to do whatever it took, no matter the cost.

“She’ll need observation overnight again,” the doctor finished. “Family members can see her briefly once she’s transferred to a monitored room.”

He left, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Her mother broke it first. “She tried to leave us,” she whispered, voice trembling.

Her father put an arm around her but said nothing.

And all I could think was that this is my fault.

If I had never slept with her, if I had never blurred that line, if I had never let that night happen, then there would have been no pregnancy, no miscarriage, no spiral and no overdose.

Every decision I made seemed to leave destruction behind.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes for a moment. But another thought followed immediately. If I hadn’t gone back to check on her, if I hadn’t listened to Isabella, she might be dead right now.

The cold realization made my hands tremble.

I opened my eyes and found Isabella watching me. She stepped closer quietly.

“She’s going to be okay,” she said softly.

I didn’t trust my voice at first. “I almost lost her,” I said finally.

“You didn’t,” she replied.

“But I could have.”

She shook her head slightly. “You went back.”

“Because

you told me to.” I stepped forward and pulled her into my arms.

The hug wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t desperate. It was grounding.

“Thank you,” I said against her hair.

“For what?”

“For telling me to check on her again.”

Her hands tightened slightly around my jacket. “When I said that,” she whispered, “I never thought it would be this.”

!!

“Neither did I.”

We stood there like that for a moment, two people who had once torn each other apart were now holding each other together.

“I keep thinking,” I admitted quietly, “that if I hadn’t-”

She pulled back just enough to look at me. “Don’t,” she said firmly.

“If I hadn’t slept with her, none of this-”

“Dominic,” she interrupted gently but firmly. “That’s not how this works.”

I swallowed.

“She made a choice,” Isabella continued softly. “You made a mistake. Those are not the same thing.”

The distinction hit me harder than I expected.

Behind us, Vittoria was whispering urgently to Salvatore.

“This is not normal,” she said. “She cannot stay alone.”

Her father nodded grimly.

“We will do whatever the doctors recommend,” he said aloud, addressing me.

“And I will,” I replied, meeting his gaze directly. “I will take full responsibility for her recovery.”

Her father studied me for a long moment.

Then he nodded once.

“You will,” he said.

It was not a request, but a statement.

I accepted it. Because he was right. Whether I intended to or not, I was tied to this now. I had been the moment I made the mistake of sleeping with her.

The nurse approached again.

“She’s been moved,” she said. “You can see her.”

Her mother rushed forward first, her father following close behind. Vittoria and Salvatore remained in the hallway. I lingered for a second longer. Then I turned back to Isabella.

Our eyes held for a moment, complicated, heavy and grateful.

Then we followed the others down the corridor.

couldn’t shake the feeling that the universe was testing how much destruction one life could withstand.

I didn’t know what came next.

But I knew one thing with brutal clarity, that I couldn’t afford another mistake.

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