Chapter 182 SOBER.
\~~~LUCIANO.
It has been two days since Raina came home from the hospital.
Two long, quiet days where the house felt more like a tomb than a home.
I watched her every moment I could, trying to piece together the woman I loved from the fragments she left behind.
She barely spoke, maybe a handful of words total. 'Okay.' 'Thanks.'
That was it. No stories from her day, no soft laughs, and no reaching for my hand like she used to. It was like the kidnapping and the loss had stolen her voice, and left only echoes.
I knew I had to be patient, and gentle. Hell, I'd been a saint about it.
Gentle, no pushing, and just quiet support.
I cooked her favorite meals by myself, even if she only picked at them. I sat with her on the couch, holding space for whatever she needed to say. But inside, it was killing me.
Our baby was gone, and now it felt like part of her was slipping away too. I couldn't leave the house, not even to deal with Marco and Talia. Those traitors were still locked up, waiting for their reckoning, but business could wait. My wife couldn't. I just wanted her to be okay again, and to see that spark in her eyes.
That night, after the sun had dipped below the horizon and the house settled into a heavy silence, I pushed open the bedroom door. The bed was empty, sheets smoothed out like she hadn't been there.
My heart skipped wondering where she was.
I checked the bathroom, the door ajar, but it was dark and empty. Panic flickered, but then I heard a soft rustle from the closet. I stepped inside, and there she was, emerging with a folded sweater in her hands, her face pale under the dim light.
“Are you okay?’' I asked, keeping my voice low, like approaching a startled animal.
She sighed, heavy and tired, setting the sweater on the dresser. “When will you stop hovering around like I'm a time bomb? You can get on with your business. I am fine, really.”
Her words stung, but I saw the strain in her eyes, the way her shoulders hunched. “You don't look like you're fine, Raina.”
“I am,” She crossed her arms, turning away slightly.
“You haven't been okay. You don't eat well, you only lie in bed all day,” I stepped closer, hating how helpless I felt.
“What would you have me do? Sing?” Her tone sharpened, a spark of the old fire, but twisted with pain.
“Baby, baby,” I crossed the space between us in two strides, dropping my hands gently on her shoulders. She didn't pull away, but she tensed under my touch. “I am not telling you to do that. I just want you to be okay.”
“I am okay.”
“You're not. We need to talk this out... or just anything. Not this silence.”
“I don't wanna talk!” She hissed, yanking away from me, her eyes flashing with sudden anger.
“Babe, I understand what you're going through and…”
“You understand what I'm going through?” She cut me off, scoffing, her voice rising like a storm breaking. I froze, realizing I'd stepped on a landmine.
She paced a step, then whirled back, tears already gleaming. “You understand what I am going through?!”
“Raina, please…”
“Tell me how you understand! You weren't the one kidnapped and beaten down. You weren't the one drugged until your head spun and your body betrayed you. You didn't lie on that cold, filthy floor, heart pounding with terror the second you realized you might be carrying our child.” she shouted, her voice breaking.
“It wasn't you who felt the blood come, hot and wrong, ripping everything away,” she continued, crying.
“You don't wake up every morning to this ache, this emptiness, drowning in guilt for not fighting harder, and for letting it happen!”
“You were not the one waking up every day in pain, feeling empty, and feeling like you failed someone you didn’t even know yet!”
Her words poured out, raw and jagged, each one a knife twisting in my gut. She was shaking now, her fists clenched at her sides.
I stood still, my hand hanging in the air where I'd reached for her. I watched as the tears spilled over, her chest heaving with sobs she tried to choke back.
All I could do was watch, my own throat tight, words failing me.
I didn't know what to say as nothing felt right. ‘I am sorry’ was too small. 'I love you' wouldn't touch the rage and hurt boiling inside her. I didn't want to make it worse, to push her further into that dark place.
But I couldn't just stand there. I closed the gap slowly, raising my hands to pull her into my arms, to hold her until the storm passed.
“Don't! Don't... touch me…” She pulled back, her voice breaking as she shoved at my chest weakly.
“Sunshine,” The name slipped out, soft and pleading.
“Don't call me that too. Don't talk to me. I wanna be alone. Just... leave. Leave me,” she cried, backing away until her legs hit the bed. She sank down, curling in on herself.
My heart cracked wide open. “Do you want me to bring Alessia over... or your mum?”
I wouldn't mind her mother here, despite the old issues. Anything to help.
“I don't wanna see anyone. Leave me!”
“Fine, fine... I will. If you need anything, I'll be just around, okay?” I lingered in the doorway, hating every second, but I turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind me.
The hallway stretched long and empty. My heart felt like lead, heavy in my chest, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. I rubbed at them roughly, heading downstairs to the study. The house was too quiet, and every creak echoed my footsteps. I needed space, but more than that, I needed not to be alone with this ache.
When I pushed open the study door, Viktor was there, standing by the window with his arms crossed. He'd been checking in more often these days like a silent guardian. His face was calm, but his eyes sharpened when he saw me.
“You need something?” I asked, sinking into the leather chair behind the desk. My voice came out rougher than I intended.
“Yes, I wanted to inform you about something, but…” His voice trailed off, and he studied me, concern etching lines on his forehead.
“But?”
“You look like you need company right now.” He pressed his lips together, then pulled up a chair across from me, sitting without waiting for an invitation.
I leaned back, running a hand over my face. The weight of the night pressed down.
“I don't know how to console her. I don't know…” I shook my head, breathing out a long sigh. “She is shutting me out, Viktor. Completely. I try to be there, but it's like I'm the enemy now.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “Trauma like that changes people, boss. It doesn’t mean she doesn't need you. She is probably fighting demons you can't see.”
“Yeah, but how do I reach her? Every word I say sets her off. Tonight, she exploded and told me I couldn't possibly understand. And she is right. I wasn't there. I didn't feel what she felt,” My fists clenched on the desk, my knuckles white. The guilt twisted deeper, the what-ifs replaying like a bad dream.
Viktor leaned forward, his voice low and even.
“You listen, boss. That is how. Not with words, not at first. You show up, even when she pushes. I have seen men break after less. But your wife is strong, and she will come back. You just gotta hold the line.”
I met his eyes, searching for that certainty he always carried.
“What if she doesn't? What if this... this loss takes her from me?”
“It won't. You are her anchor. Remember when we pulled her out? She fought because of you. Give her time, but don't let go.”
A small crack of relief eased the knot in my chest. Viktor had a way of cutting through the fog, and reminding me I wasn't alone in the mess.
“I hate seeing her like this,” I admitted.
“I know,” he said.
“I would take all of it from her if I could.”
“I know,” he repeated.
Silence fell again.
But this time… it wasn’t suffocating.
Just… quiet.
After a while, Viktor leaned back slightly.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked. “To take the edge off?”
I shook my head immediately. “No.”
He raised a brow.
“My wife might need me anytime,” I said. “I should be sober.”
Viktor nodded his head. “Good.”
I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes briefly.
For the first time in two days…
I felt like I could breathe.
Even if just a little.