His Merciless Redemption novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Isabella’s POV

Waiting was its own kind of violence.

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I hadn’t realized that until now, until days began slipping past in a blur of routines and silences, of guarded glances and half-finished conversations. Every vibration of my phone made my heart stutter. Every unfamiliar car slowing near the gates made my spine go rigid.

The Vitellis hadn’t replied.

And somehow, that was worse.

Dominic moved through the house like a coiled wire. Controlled. Focused. Dangerous in a way that no longer felt distant or theoretical. I was beginning to understand his world bit by bit now that it felt I was right in the middle of it all. Not through gunshots or blood, but through anticipation.

I learned the language of waiting from him.

We didn’t talk much about it. Not explicitly. But I saw the signs-the longer hours, and the quiet phone calls taken outside.

And still, life went on.

Mateo laughed. He went to school. He came home with stories about playground arguments and new drawings tucked into his backpack. I cooked dinner. I worked. I folded laundry. I pretended my chest didn’t tighten every time Dominic left the room.

Though between the waiting and the fear, there were moments, soft, and dangerous moments, where everything almost felt normal.

Like tonight.

Mateo had insisted on movie night, dragging pillows into the home theatre with single-minded determination. Dominic had relented easily, letting Mateo pick the movie even though it meant animated chaos instead of whatever quiet drama Dominic would’ve preferred. But it didn’t surprise me anymore. The man doted on Mateo like anything. Some days, it felt he might just be spoiling him too much. But then I thought of all the days Mateo had missed having a father in his life, and I suddenly didn’t mind at all.

Unlike the last time we had watched a movie together in this very room, we sat close. Not touching, but aware. Mateo was wedged between us, warm and sleepy, his head eventually slumping against my side.

I let myself breathe.

This right here was the danger. Not the Vitellis. Not the threats. This fragile, domestic illusion that made me forget, just for a second, that everything could shatter.

I was brushing Mateo’s hair back gently when footsteps approached.

Alessia.

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Chapter 75

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She looked pale. Not dramatically so, but enough that even Mateo noticed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, ever polite.

She smiled at him. “Just a little tired, sweetheart.”

Dominic was on his feet instantly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern sharpening his voice.

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She hesitated, one hand resting lightly against her abdomen. “I’ve been having some pain. Nothing serious, I think. But I’d like to see a gynaecologist tomorrow.”

The word landed like a gunshot in my chest.

Dominic’s expression shifted immediately, from concern to something deeper, more personal. Protective. Focused.

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll take you.”

I stared at the screen, at the frozen cartoon characters dancing obliviously, at Mateo blinking sleepily between

I hadn’t moved.

“I almost forgot to mention it,” Dominic added, like this was a detail he’d simply overlooked. “Alessia’s pregnant. It’s still early, that’s why she’s not really showing.”

Pregnant.

The word echoed, hollow and deafening.

I felt stupid for how long it took my mind to catch up, for the way my thoughts stumbled over themselves, trying to make sense of something that I’d already known for a long time.

This was the first time Dominic had mentioned it on his own. The first indication he had accepted the truth.

I felt my heart crack a little at the casual ease in his voice.

“And,” Dominic continued, glancing at me with what he probably thought was thoughtfulness, “Isa, maybe you could help her? You’ve been through this before.”

The crack widened until my heart broke completely.

Not loudly. Not cleanly. Just a quiet, splintering thing that left everything else hanging crooked.

Help her.

My vision tunneled. I became acutely aware of my breathing, of the way my fingers dug into the fabric of the

couch.

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Chapter 75

What was he asking me?

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Did he really expect me to guide his pregnant wife through something I had endured alone? To hold her hand through doctor’s visits, nausea, fear, things I had faced without the father of my child there?

Had he lost his mind?

I looked at Mateo.

He was watching us, eyes heavy with sleep, trusting. Innocent.

So I smiled.

A tight, brittle thing that felt nothing like a smile at all.

“I’m sure you’ve got it covered,” I said evenly. “You can take care of her.”

The words tasted sharp. Biting. Controlled.

Dominic frowned slightly, like he hadn’t expected that response. Alessia shifted uncomfortably.

“I’ll take Mateo to bed,” I added, already standing. “He’s exhausted.”

I didn’t wait for permission.

Mateo wrapped his arms around my neck easily, familiar weight grounding me even as my thoughts spiraled. I carried him out of the room, my back straight, my steps measured.

Behind me, I felt Dominic’s gaze like heat against my spine.

I didn’t turn around.

In Mateo’s room, I tucked him in carefully, smoothing his hair, waiting until his breathing evened out before standing back up.

Only then did I allow myself to feel it.

The rage.

The disbelief.

The sheer, staggering audacity.

How dare he.

How dare Dominic Russo look at me, his past, his ghost, the woman he abandoned, and suggest I nurture the life he was building with someone else?

I pressed a hand to my mouth, stifling a sound that might’ve been a sob or a scream.

It wasn’t jealousy. Not just that.

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Chapter 75

It was humiliation.

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I had spent my pregnancy counting weeks alone. Sitting in sterile waiting rooms with my hands folded in my lap, pretending I didn’t care that he wasn’t there to hold them. I had learned the sound of my own heartbeat echoing too loudly in ultrasound rooms.

And now he wanted me to help her?

As if this was some shared sisterhood moment.

As if Alessia was my family.

As if I hadn’t been forced to run.

I stayed in Mateo’s room longer than necessary, breathing through the anger until it dulled into something heavier. Quieter. More dangerous.

I understood Dominic’s world even more now.

Not because of guns or power or violence or even anticipation.

But because in his world, feelings were just collateral damage, at least when it came to me.

He didn’t care about them much years ago, and he didn’t care about them now, either.

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13:05 Sat, Jan 17