His Merciless Redemption novel Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Dominic’s POV

38

55 vouchers

I carried the tray carefully up the stairs, mindful of the bowls balanced a bit too close to the edge.

It held two bowls, one with Chicken broth for Mateo, warm, lightly seasoned, exactly the way my mother used to make it for me. And a smaller one for Isabella, though I doubted she’d touch it. From what I remembered, she didn’t really like eating soups and broths unless she was extremely ill. I wondered if that had changed.

I stopped just outside her bedroom door.

Her voice drifted out first.

“….yes, Luca, he has a fever, but it’s better now,” she was saying softly.

Luca.

My jaw tightened before I could stop myself.

I stayed where I was.

It wasn’t my place to interrupt. Not when Mateo was sick. Not when Isabella looked-sounded-like she needed familiarity, and comfort. Still, something sour twisted low in my gut as I stood there listening, tray growing heavy in my hands.

“He’s sleeping now,” she continued. “No, it’s not serious. Just the flu.”

A pause.

I imagined Luca’s concern on the other end. The way he always sounded too present, too involved in their lives.

On one hand I was glad Isabella had people who truly cared about her and Mateo in her life when I wasn’t there. But on the other hand, it also irritated me to no end that he probably knew more about her now than I did.

“We’re taking care of it,” she said gently. “I promise.”

Another pause.

“Yes, I’ll tell you if anything changes.”

When she didn’t say anything else for a whole minute, I assumed that the call had ended.

Only then did I knock lightly and step inside.

Isabella looked up from the bed where Mateo lay propped against pillows, phone still in her hand. Her expression shifted, something fleeting crossing her face before it smoothed out again.

19:14 Thu, Jan 15

Chapter 50

“I made soup,” I said quietly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. “For both of you.”

Mateo’s eyes flickered open at the word soup.

“Hey,” I said, crouching beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he murmured, voice weak.

“You need anything?” I asked. “Water? Another blanket?”

He shook his head, then turned his face into Isabella’s side, curling closer to her.

My chest tightened.

“I want Mamma to feed me,” Mateo said softly.

37

55 vouchers

Isabella nodded immediately, picking up the bowl and spoon. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t look at me for approval.

She didn’t need to.

She cradled the bowl carefully, blowing on the spoon before bringing it to his lips, wiping his mouth gently when a drop spilled down his chin.

I watched them, something unfamiliar pressing against my ribs.

This was care. Real care. The kind that couldn’t be learned or forced. It was obvious Isabella loved Mateo with every fibre of her being. I wondered how many times she had to take care of Mateo alone when he was sick. If she had any help. Or if she’d done it all on her own.

My respect for her went up a notch as I watched her feed Mateo some more.

He managed only a few spoonfuls before shaking his head.

“I’m full.”

“You should have a bit more,” I said automatically.

“No,” he said, the word surprisingly firm.

I blinked,

The stubbornness caught me off guard. I hadn’t ever seen him refuse for something so adamantly before.

Isabella glanced at me. “It’s okay. He’s usually very easy, but when he’s sick…” She shrugged softly. “He’ll eat more later.”

Mateo was already drifting again, lashes fluttering as sleep reclaimed him.

Isabella leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then tucked the blankets around him with practiced

ease.

19:14 Thu, Jan 15

Chapter 50

:

37

EZ 55 vouchers

“He should be better in a couple of days,” she said quietly. “Once he is, I’d like to go back to Florence,”

There it was.

The sentence I’d known was coming.

“Yes,” I said after a moment. “Once he’s fully better.”

She nodded, but her tone didn’t change. She was still distant, still restrained.

Something was wrong.

“Isabella,” I said carefully. “Did I do something to upset you?”

She froze.

For a split second, I saw it all flicker across her face, hurt, anger, and something dangerously close to grief.

Then it vanished.

“No,” she said, turning back towards her desk. “It’s nothing.”

She reopened her laptop, getting busy with work.

The dismissal stung more than it should have.

I wanted to push, to demand answers, to tell her I felt like I was losing ground with her every hour.

Before I could say another word, my phone buzzed.

Alessia.

“I need you in the study,” she said when I answered. “It’s work.”

I glanced at Isabella’s back, straight, and unyielding.

“I’ll be there,” I replied, ending the call.

I hesitated at the door, hoping she might turn around.

She didn’t.

And as I walked away, one thought echoed relentlessly in my mind that I was doing everything I knew how to

And somehow, it still wasn’t enough.