Page 33 of DeLuca: The Devil

“Of course, we don’t know if she’s your wife. However, I wanted to warn you, she’s not in good condition. It took me so long to come see you because I was dealing with several of her life-threatening injuries. The bruising is bad, and I want you to be prepared.” He stands, “Follow me then. She’s in the ICU.”

“Are you going to call her friend?” Damian asks.

I nod, “Yes, but only if I find out it’s her. I don’t want to put her through the trauma of thinking her friend is alive only to find out it isn't even her. That seems cruel even for me.”

After an elevator ride and a walk down, what feels like an endless fucking hallway, he stops at a closed door.

“She’s not awake, just so you aren’t expecting her to be.”

I take a deep breath, “Okay. I’m ready.”

He opens the door, and I walk in and realize I’m a fucking liar. I was not ready. This is not something you can possibly be prepared for. My beautiful wife has been beaten beyond recognition. Still, I know it’s her.

“Bellissima!” I cry out as I’m positive my heart is being ripped from my chest. She looks like my wife and nothing like my wife at the same time. Her face is swollen beyond belief. Her body is so thin and frail. She can’t be a hundred pounds. My wife was never fat, but she was never skinny. The woman lying in this hospital bed looks anorexic.

The doctor comes up beside me, “Is this Giada De Luca?”

I nod, “Yes. This is my wife.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes with her, and when I come back, we can discuss injuries and prognosis.”

Without taking my eyes off her, I speak low, “Thank you.”

Max says, “We’ll wait outside, Domenic.”

I don’t say anything or look in their direction, but I hear the door close behind me. I take a seat in the chair beside her bed, “Bellissima, I’m sorry. For everything.”

Gently, I stroke her palm, “I have been searching for you for a year. People kept saying you were dead. But I knew better. I knew my sweet angel wouldn’t leave me.”

Placing a kiss on her palm, I say, “There are so many things I need to say to you, but I’d rather say them when you’re awake to hear them.”

I lay my head near her hand, but not on top of her because I don’t want to hurt her, “I promise you, baby, they will pay for everything they did to you. I swear it.”

Dr. Jacobsen returns, “Mr. De Luca, can you come with me, please.”

“I’ll be back, Bellissima.”

Gently, I kiss her on the top of her bandaged head and then follow the doctor.

“I don’t want to leave her. Can we not talk in her room?”

He points to an office, “I prefer not to have emotional conversations with patients in the room. We don’t know how much she will hear.”

Walking in, I take a seat on the other side of his desk while he takes the chair behind it.

He opens the chart he’s been carrying, “Your wife has a fractured cheekbone, a lacerated spleen, a separated shoulder, lacerations on her vulva, and vaginal tearing. Her brain scans came back normal, but that doesn’t mean she won’t have any difficulties with her brain. We will know more when she wakes up long enough to have a conversation.”

My mind is working very slowly through the laundry list of injuries but it’s the last couple that have me ready to explode.

“Are you saying you think she was raped?”

He shakes his head, “No, Sir. I’m saying she was definitely raped. It’s not possible with injuries like this that it was consensual. She is also malnourished.”

That doesn’t even come as a surprise. I’m not a doctor but one look at her and I knew that was the case.

“Is she in a coma?”

He shakes his head, “No. She is on heavy medication for pain so she will wake up, but she’ll be in and out of it.”

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