CHAPTER 118: UNDER MY ROOF

Sara leaned back just enough to study Luca’s face, her gaze falling into the depths of his eyes. They were mirrors, reflecting desire and profound love.

"Your wounded arm... you mustn’t let it soak for too long," she whispered with concern as she gently lifted his right arm out of the steaming water of the tub.

"It’s already thoroughly drenched," Luca replied, his voice a husky murmur that betrayed the effect her closeness had on him.

"Then you need to wash up and get out," Sara insisted as she swiftly stood up, pulling herself free from the sensual pull of the moment. She grabbed a towel from the glass cabinet, wrapping it tightly around her body before disappearing from his sight.

She quickly dressed in a fresh, dry set of clothes, then began drying her hair with the towel.

"How much longer can I keep holding him off? I just... I can’t go through with this. Not again," she muttered to the quiet room.

The silence was broken by the click of the bathroom door. She turned, her breath catching slightly, to see Luca emerging. A white towel was slung low and precariously around his waist, emphasizing the lean muscle of his torso.

"When is the doctor arriving to change the dressing on this?" Luca asked, gesturing to the injury. "Did you manage to call him?"

"No," Sara stated simply, walking toward him. "I’ll do it myself." A small smile touched her lips. "He gave me a thorough lesson yesterday on how to handle it," she added, her eyes meeting his with a confidence.

Sara let the towel drop carelessly onto the armchair and moved swiftly to the cupboard. She retrieved the first-aid kit. When she turned, she found Luca already seated on the edge of the bed.

She settled herself directly in front of him, positioning the kit between their knees. With the scissors, she began to snip away the sodden bandage. As the material fell away, her breath flinched violently at the sight of the stitched wound.

"Does it hurt much?" Her eyes instantly lifting to meet his.

"No," Luca denied.

Sara hummed. Instead, she took up the small cotton swab, saturating it with the disinfectant. She was quick but as the swab touched the wound, Luca let out a sharp hiss of pain.

"Sorry," she murmured instantly. She instinctively lowered her face, gently blowing air across the freshly cleaned wound. She remained gentle in her movenents as she finally tied a fresh bandage around it.

"It’s done," Sara announced, her tension easing as she clipped the first-aid kit shut. She offered a small smile. "You need to take plenty of rest for the next few days. Also, I’ll be going out later."

Luca’s eyes narrowed. "What? Why?"

"I have to meet someone," Sara replied simply.

"Who? You cannot go out until I catch the culprit responsible for this," he stated, his protective instinct flaring immediately.

"The shooter is already caught," Sara countered. "And the police are already investigating who hired him."

"The police investigation is too slow," Luca explained, his expression hardening. "The true culprit behind this was clever, they used a burner phone to hire the shooter."

Sara knitted her brows together, a flicker of suspicion crossing her face as she wondered how he had discovered that detail so quickly.

"Remo is looking into it now," Luca continued, his voice leaving no room for argument. "So, you are not going out until we find the true culprit. I don’t want any argument on this."

Sara remained silent. She walked to the cupboard, slipped the first-aid kit back onto the shelf, and pulled out a fresh change of clothes for Luca before shutting the doors.

"Are you upset that I’m stopping you from going out?" Luca questioned, watching her every move.

"No," Sara denied, turning back to face him. "I know you’re concerned about my safety. I will wait until you find out about the culprit." She forwarded the clothes to him. "Here. Wear these and come downstairs for breakfast. And please, talk to your parents nicely."

With that final instruction, she pivoted sharply on her heels and walked out of the room, leaving him sitting on the bed.

~~~~

Adam returned home, his mind already heavy with worry about Sara and the recent encounter with Gloria. He saw Marcella and Frida sitting comfortably on the couch, smiling and relaxed.

The sight of them enjoying themselves at such a crucial, troubled time for his other daughter infuriated him.

But when he overheard how Frida was loudly celebrating that Sara’s husband, Luca, had gotten injured, his anger snapped completely.

"Are you out of your mind?" Adam roared.

Hearing the loud voice of Adam, both Marcella and Frida rose instantly to their feet, their expressions turning from amusement to shock.

"Honey!" Marcella began, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Stay quiet!" Adam commanded Marcella, his voice thunderous, as he fixed a furious glare on Frida. "This is how you think about your sister? Even if she’s not related to you by blood, you cannot be this heartless! This is what you’ve grown up to be!" He shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t believe he had been unknowingly raising snakes in his own house right from the beginning.

"Dad, I—I am so sorry," Frida apologized while stammering, her fear finally outweighing her malice.

"I don’t need your apology anymore," said Adam, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. He then glanced at his wife, Marcella. Walking directly up to her, he handed her the envelope he was holding.

"What is it?" asked Marcella, confused by the sudden shift from rage to chilling calm.

"Divorce papers. I’ve signed on them. You will sign too. Now."

"What? No! Don’t do this to me, to us," Marcella shook her head vehemently, reaching out and desperately holding his arm.

Adam immediately yanked his arm free from her grip. "Do what you’re told. You’ll be given the desired alimony. I simply can’t tolerate any of you in this house any longer. And after clearly seeing how corrupted your hearts are, I won’t allow you and your daughter to spend another minute under my roof," he announced his final decision. It was tough for him, but it was necessary. The mistakes he made a long time ago he couldn’t keep repeating them. He could no longer forgive Marcella and her kids.

"Dad, please don’t do this..." Frida cried, trying one last time to appeal to him.

"I’m not your father," Adam corrected Frida harshly. "If I were your father in truth, you wouldn’t have done this to me or my company." He pulled out the pen from his blazer and thrust it toward Marcella.

"Sign on the papers now," Adam ordered her, his expression cold and unyielding.

"Honey, please. I beg you. Don’t do this. I have always loved you," Marcella pleaded desperately, tears starting to stream down her face. "I swear—"

"Enough! I don’t want to hear your fake promises anymore," Adam cut her off, his voice rising to a controlled shout. "How many times do I have to forgive you, Marcella? Love!? You never loved me. If you had, you would have treated Sara in a better way. You wouldn’t have filled hatred and jealousy in the hearts of your children for Sara! What didn’t I give you that you did this to me?"

Adam was tired of arguing. The last thing he wanted was to correct all the mistakes he made.

"Sign on the papers before I change my mind to even give you any alimony," Adam stated.

Marcella’s eyes brimmed with tears. Her hands trembled. "Just once... I-I will apologize–" she couldn’t finish as Adam cut her off.

"Don’t make me kick you out," said Adam. "Sign them and leave this house. I don’t care anymore where you will go and stay. But I can’t stand your sight anymore," he added.

Frida gazed at her mother, watching intensely, wondering what she would do now.

Marcella had no option left but to sign the papers. She hesitantly took the pen and signed the documents while weeping hysterically, but Adam wasn’t moved in the slightest by her dramatic, crocodile tears. His assistant stepped forward immediately and took the signed papers from Adam’s hand.

"Submit them in the court first thing tomorrow morning," Adam instructed, his voice flat.

The assistant bowed and quickly walked away.

Adam returned his cold gaze to Marcella. "Pack your stuff and leave this house within an hour with your daughter. Also, be present on the day the divorce will be legally finalized. After getting the alimony, don’t ever show your face in front of me again."

With that final pronouncement, he turned and strode out of their sight, leaving them alone in the shattered living room.

Marcella collapsed onto the couch, beginning to weep truly, finally realizing her dream home and perfect life had been broken completely. Frida held her mother, completely distraught, not expecting this nightmare to ever happen.

"Frida, what will we do now?" Marcella said, her head resting against her daughter’s chest as she continued crying.