Mafia Billionaire’s Forlorn Wife
Chapter 53

“I was all alone.”

The words escape Arabella’s lips and the voice in which she says that is meek and broken. My heart feels like it is being ripped out of my chest and I cannot even force myself to breathe right now because the sight of her is gut wrenching.

Her beautiful hair, that looked so lustrous and soft even when I came to Leo’s this morning are currently covered in b***d from when I shot Christopher just a few minutes ago. Her petite frame is trembling like a leaf as she sits in front of me, restrained to a chair like some animal. Her face is marred with bruises that can only come from repeated slaps and punches to the jaw. And her hands, oh, her hands have lacerations going through them because of probably struggling to break out of the metal handcuffs but being unable to do that.

And her eyes…

They’re the worst.

They’re looking at me with a question of why I couldn’t protect her. They’re looking at me with an accusation of how I could let this happen to her. They’re looking at me as a reminder that I should have done my f*****g job to protect her, I should have never been the fool I was.

“Ivy…” I croak out, forwarding my hand to gently wipe the moisture from under her eyes.

She turns her cheek away without a single word while also diverting her eyes from me like she doesn’t want to see me.

My heart feels like I have been shot through it.

“Rhys, we looked everywhere, Amelia is nowhere to be found. She must have been tipped off.” Nikolas says entering the room and I don’t even bother to turn around until he takes notice of Arabella’s conditions and stops in his tracks, “f**k…” he mutters.

That is when I snap my head towards him, “find her, Nik. Find her and make sure she knows that once I’m done apologising to my wife for everything, she is going to regret ever walking this planet.”

A scoff echoes through the room and I know which one of them it has come from.

I look back at Arabella and find her looking at me for a brief moment before she turns her gaze down— like she’s worried…like she’s afraid of my reaction.

“I’m sorry…” she mutters, her voice is raspy and weak but more than anything, she looks like a small child that is afraid of being abused.

Moisture prickles at my eyes to a point where it becomes almost painful for me to continue breathing.

“Bella…” I coax out, my voice falling heavy from my lips as I turn my head to the side and without looking at Niko, I say, “get Vernon ready with his first aid kit and ask Dr. Ming to pay a visit.”

“Alright.” And with that, he takes the clue and walks out of the room leaving me alone with my wife.

“I’m sorry, Ivy…” I whisper, once again trying to place my hands on both of hers and that she doesn’t stop me from. However, when I see the repulsion on her face, I know that it is only because she can’t stop me.

Her hands are still bound.

The realisation breaks me as I feel my anger channelling through me as I reach out and grab the link between the handcuff keeping her wrist against the chair handle before breaking it as a soft grunt escapes my lips.

The sound of the metal protesting is followed by one of it breaking and after doing the same with the other, I trace my fingers along Arabella’s scars, and she flinches in response.

Weakly, she folds her hands in her thighs, taking them out of my reach but that is when my eyes fall on something else and that makes my b***d dry up completely.

“Bella, why are you bleeding?” I whisper in a shuddering tone, unable to think clearly as I stair at the b***d stain seeping through her shorts along the length of the inside of her thigh.

My heart is pounding so fast in my head that I cannot comprehend a single thing, especially considering that I know what this could be a sign of, especially after what Bella was put through.

During early pregnancy, extreme stress and anxiety, especially caused by life threatening situations, can sometimes lead to a miscarriage.

And if that is the case right now, then I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive myself.

I know how much Bella likes kids. Her maternal instincts are the sharpest and I have practically seen her around small babies, animals, and literally anything and anyone that looks like it needs to be pampered by her.

Even before getting married, she would sometimes talk about us having at least three kids. She would even make plans on how we’re going to raise them and even the possibility of what might have just happened is gun wrenching for me to imagine.

Arabella takes in a shaky breath, “it’s none of your concern.” She lets out dejectedly, practically forcing those words out as she sits there with an emotion less face.

I look at her for a moment, and then decide to let the topic go as I sigh, “can I please take you home where Vernon and Dr. Ming can get your wounds treated?” I ask her gently, wanting nothing more than to coax her into letting me touch her— even if she just allows me for long enough to let me carry her to the car.

She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and then, only a slight dip of her chin is how she lets me know that she wants to be touched now.

However, as I take her hands in mine, her expression darkens to a point where she looks like she’s freaking out and another bout of anxiety is rising in her chest.

“I’m going to have to pick you up, I can’t let you walk right now, is that something that you’ll be up for?” I ask her politely, my eyes continue to sting with the increasing weight of my tears while my words fall weaker than they usually do.

I wait patiently for her response but for a few seconds I think that she’s not going to say yes. I start thinking of another alternatives as I say—

“Or, I could even bring Leo to help you if that is something you’ll be more comfortable with.” I offer after stomping on my mind that is screaming at me for even thinking about letting another man help my wife out of this vulnerable situation.

This vulnerable situation is exactly why I need to be gentler and kinder towards Arabella. I need to make sure that she knows that she’s cared for and I have to stop myself from going into my pathetic caveman mode.

I can’t allow myself to think like that.

“Just get me out of here.” She spits out with so much venom in her voice as tears escape her lips and I am quick to respond by standing up and reaching out to take her in my arms as I slide my arms behind her neck and her knees and then, as gently as possible, I pick her up before straightening.

Looking down at her, I find her staring at nowhere in particular, and I know at the moment that I have, perhaps forever, derailed my image in her eyes.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

I watch as Frida and Vernon both fuss over her wounds while we wait for the doctor to arrive.

I am currently sitting by her bedside as she lays there in the centre of my bed but with her eyes staring at the ceiling blankly and not a single word has fallen out of her mouth since we’ve left that seedy motel after practically burning the entire place down.

“You better do something and you better do it quick.” Vernon spits in my direction as he applies first aid over one of Arabella’s wrists while Frida works on the other as she tries cooing and singing for Arabella to get her to react.

But nothing seems to be working.

My wife just lays there, staring up at the ceiling, and sometimes when she doesn’t blink for longer intervals, my fear strikes inside me and I worry if she’s breathing or not.

“It’s all my fault.” I whisper.

Vernon gives me a harsh glare, “I warned you. I tried to tell you so many times that you were heading down a path of destruction. And now look! You’re losing the one person that was supposed to be there for you till the end of time!”

My eyes fall down to the ground, as for the first time in my life, I feel ashamed of myself for the decisions that I have taken.

Completely and utterly ashamed.

And that is when I hear the words that bring dread to my heart—

“I want a divorce.”