His Merciless Redemption novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Isabella’s POV

I tried to step away.

He didn’t let me.

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His hand closed around my wrist, not rough, not gentle either, just desperate enough to stop me from disappearing the way I always did when things became too much.

“Isa.”

The sound of my name from his mouth shattered something inside me.

“Don’t,” I warned, my voice shaking. “Please don’t do this.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer, forcing me to face him. “You don’t get to say that and walk away. Not after what you just said.”

My chest heaved, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. I’d avoided talking to him about this for so long, giving myself explanations as to why it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t. But now that I’d finally started speaking, I couldn’t seem to stop. “What part? That I won’t help your wife carry your child? Or that I finally stopped pretending this doesn’t hurt?”

His eyes darkened, confusion flashing across his face. “What wife? Why do you keep calling Alessia my wife?”

I laughed.

God, I laughed.

A broken, ugly sound ripped from my throat. “Don’t insult me by pretending you don’t know.”

“I don’t,” he said, voice sharp now. “Tell me.”

My hands trembled. “I heard it.”

He stiffened.

“At the hospital,” I continued, the words pouring out like poison I’d swallowed too long ago. “When Mateo was sick. When I stepped away to get his medicine. I heard them call her Mrs Russo. I saw you walk in with her. I saw the way you stood beside her.”

My vision blurred.

“That was the moment everything made sense,” I whispered. “Why you were suddenly present. Why you cared. Why you were playing house with me while building a real life with her.”

Silence fell.

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Chapter 77

Thick. Crushing.

Then Dominic shook his head.

Slowly. Firmly.

“No.”

I recoiled. “Don’t-”

:

“No,” he repeated, voice rising, something raw breaking through. “That’s not true.”

I stared at him, incredulous. He couldn’t be serious, could he? “Then explain it.”

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“They assumed,” he said, frustration bleeding through now. “Because I booked the appointment. Because she was with me. Because people love to fill in blanks they don’t understand.”

My pulse roared in my ears. “You’re telling me they were wrong?”

“Yes.”

“You’re telling me she’s not your wife?”

“She never has been.”

The world tilted.

I clutched the edge of the door behind me to stay upright.

What the hell?

“You didn’t marry her?” I whispered, aghast.

“No,” he said immediately. “God, Isa, no.”

My knees nearly gave out. Was I dreaming? Was this really true? They weren’t married? But what about the child, then?

“But she’s pregnant,” I sputtered out.

“Yes,”

“And she’s not-”

“I never married her,” he repeated, stepping closer, his voice rough with emotion. “I couldn’t.”

My breath came out in a sob I hadn’t meant to make. God, what was happening?

I’d thought about what I’d say when he finally told me that he had gotten to Alessia and was having a kid with her about a million times. But never had I once thought about what I’d say if he told me they weren’t actually married. The possibility had never really crossed my mind.

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Chapter 77

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And now that he was telling me he wasn’t, in fact, married to her, I didn’t know what to do or how to react. Too many emotions swirled in my mind like a whirlpool. Shock. Relief. Shame. I didn’t know which one to latch onto.

“I thought you were dead,” he said, and the way his voice cracked on the word dead made my chest ache. “1 buried you. I mourned you. I hated myself for every moment I failed you when you were alive.”

My tears spilled freely now.

“I know I wasn’t the husband you deserved,” he continued, pain etched into every line of his face. “I was distant. Closed. Consumed by my world. I didn’t see how lonely you were until it was too late.”

I pressed my lips together, shaking. Dear, God. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“But after you were gone,” he whispered, “there was no moving on.”

I swallowed hard, still unable to fully believe him. Fully trust him. Too afraid to hope. Too scared to be hurt again. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I tried,” he admitted hoarsely. “Once. I went somewhere I shouldn’t have. Thought maybe if I forced myself

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His jaw clenched.

“I couldn’t even look at anyone else. I couldn’t touch them. I couldn’t even get it up. All I could think about was you.”

My heart shattered all over again.

“You were the only one,” he said. “You still are.”

I stared at him, stunned, my entire understanding of the past five years cracking wide open.

“I would never lie about this,” he said urgently. “Not to you. Never to you.”

I shook my head weakly. My mind screamed at me to accept his words as the truth. To accept him. But what came out of my mouth next wasn’t acceptance. It was the hurt I’d bottled up for years, finally spilling out now, raw and unpolished. “I spent years believing you didn’t want me. That you didn’t want our child. That you chose her because I wasn’t enough.”

His face crumpled.

“I didn’t choose anyone,” he said fiercely. “I lost you.”

I didn’t say anything then.

I didn’t know what to say.

He stepped into me, his presence overwhelming, his hands bracketing my face as if he needed to make sure I

was real.

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Chapter 77

“You don’t believe me,” he murmured. “I can see it.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” I whispered honestly.

“Then feel it,” he said.

And then he kissed me.

Not gentle.

Not careful.

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It was desperation and grief and longing all colliding at once. Five years of regret poured into that single moment. I kissed him back before I could stop myself, clinging to him like he might vanish again.

When we broke apart, my lips burned, my chest ached, my entire body humming with something dangerous and undeniable.

“You’re the only one who does this to me, who makes me this way,” he said, pushing his pelvis against mine, making me feel his unmistakable hardness against my stomach. “The only one who ever has.”

His forehead rested against mine as he breathed heavily, heat pooling low in my belly. I could feel myself getting wet, acutely aware of the way his body pressed against mine in the most delicious way possible.

You’re the only one who makes me this way, too, Dominic, I wanted to say. But my mind wouldn’t co-operate. It was as if every nerve ending had short circuited and all I could think of was him. All I could feel was him.

“I’ve been trying to keep myself in control,” he continued when I didn’t say anything. “Trying to respect the distance you asked for. Trying not to take what you didn’t offer.”

My hands fisted in his shirt.

“But I can’t help it. It’s you,” he whispered. “It’s always been you.”

I should have stopped him.

I should have stepped away.

But my heart had already crossed the line long before my body did.

And when he leaned in again—

I let him.