Chapter 16
Carmen sat across from Vincent in his study, her fingers tracing the edge of the envelope Sofia had given her. Vincent watched her carefully, his sharp eyes reading her thoughts before she could speak.
“You look troubled,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
Carmen exhaled slowly. “I have proof of Arianna’s dealings, but if I take it to Marco now, she’ll twist it against me. She always does.”
Vincent smirked faintly. “She’s good at that, isn’t she?”
“Too good,” Carmen replied bitterly.
Vincent steepled his fingers, his gaze steady. “There’s another way. We leak this to someone else—another family, a rival of Marco’s. Once her financial records are out there, they’ll tear her apart. She won’t be able to deny it.”
Carmen froze, her pulse quickening. “And what happens to Marco when they come for her? What happens to his empire?”
Vincent shrugged. “Marco will survive. You’re worried about him, Carmen, but you should be worried about yourself. If Arianna consolidates any more power, she won’t just stop at Marco. She’ll come for you. And the baby.”
Carmen looked away, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach. The thought made her chest tighten, but so did Vincent’s plan.
“Marco will think I’m behind it,” she murmured.
“Let him,” Vincent replied. “He’ll figure out the truth eventually, and by then, Arianna will be gone.”
Carmen shook her head slowly. “It’s not that simple.”
Vincent’s smile was cold. “It never is. But you don’t win wars by playing nice.”
Carmen stared at the envelope in front of her, torn between the truth she carried and the risk it posed. If she moved too soon, Arianna would destroy her. If she waited too long, Marco might be lost for good.
Her decision had to be the right one—because there was no room left for mistakes.
…
The light in Marco’s office was dim, the lamps casting a faint amber glow over the scattered papers on his desk. He leaned forward, elbows on the surface, rubbing his temples as Arianna stood near the window, her silhouette sharp against the pale moonlight. The day had worn him thin—whispers of betrayal, shadows of doubt—but Arianna’s voice was steady, a thin thread pulling him forward.
“I found something,” she said, her tone soft but insistent. “A lead on a De Luca shipment. It’s happening tonight.”
Marco lifted his head slowly, his tired eyes fixing on her. “And why haven’t I heard about this before?”
Arianna turned to face him, her expression the perfect mix of patience and urgency. “Because I only just confirmed it. You trust me, don’t you?”
Marco didn’t answer, but his silence stretched between them. Trust. The word carried too much weight now.
“They’ve gotten bold,” she continued, stepping closer. “Sofia and Enzo are using a dock just outside the city to move weapons—De Luca assets they’ve been stockpiling for weeks. If we intercept it, we’ll cripple their operations. But if we wait, they’ll disappear, and we’ll lose the chance.”
Marco narrowed his eyes, suspicion lingering just beneath the surface. “How do you know this?”
“Does it matter?” Arianna’s voice remained even, though a flicker of irritation flashed in her eyes. “What matters is you can’t let them get away with this. You need a win, Marco. Your men need to see that you’re still in control.”
Marco pushed back his chair and stood, pacing toward the window. He stared out at the darkened estate grounds, his reflection faint in the glass. It was true—things had been slipping. Whispers of doubt, lingering questions about Carmen’s departure, Luca’s growing silence. His men were loyal, but their faith was wearing thin, and Arianna knew exactly how to strike that nerve.
“It feels rushed,” he said finally, glancing back at her.
“Because it has to be,” she replied, her tone gentle now, soothing. “This is our chance to remind everyone that the Venetti name still means something. Don’t let them take that from you.”
For a moment, Marco said nothing. Then, with a quiet sigh, he nodded. “Fine. Gather the men. If the shipment is real, we’ll take it.”
Arianna’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. “You won’t regret this, Marco.”
“Let’s hope not,” he muttered under his breath as she turned to leave.
As the door closed behind her, the faint clink of her heels fading into the hall, Marco stared down at the papers on his desk. Something about the timing felt too perfect—Arianna appearing with the answers he needed just as doubt threatened to consume him.
But desperation had a way of drowning out instinct, and tonight, Marco needed results more than questions.
________________
The evening air was heavy and cool as Carmen sat by the window in Vincent’s study, staring out at the moonlit countryside. A small fire crackled in the hearth behind her, its warmth failing to ease the weight in her chest. She rested a hand lightly on her stomach, feeling the faintest stir beneath her fingertips.
“I know you’re in there,” she whispered softly, her voice barely carrying beyond the room.
The reality of her pregnancy had settled in weeks ago, but some nights it still overwhelmed her. She thought of Marco—of the love they’d shared once and the walls that now stood between them. He didn’t know about the baby. Part of her wanted to tell him, to force him to see what was at stake, but the other part, the louder part, screamed for caution.
The door creaked open behind her. She turned slightly to see Vincent step inside, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His expression was unreadable as he crossed the room, sitting in the armchair across from her.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said, watching her carefully.
“I’ve had a lot to think about,” Carmen replied, her hand still resting against her stomach.
Vincent raised an eyebrow, though his tone remained casual. “And what are you thinking about?”
“Marco,” she said quietly. “And what happens next.”
Vincent snorted, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “What happens next is he’ll fall straight into Arianna’s trap while you sit here and drive yourself mad.”
Carmen frowned, her gaze sharp as it lifted to meet his. “I don’t sit and do nothing, Vincent. I’m not you.”
His smirk faded, replaced by something closer to respect. “Then what’s your move?”
Carmen turned back to the window, the firelight casting faint shadows across her face. “I’m protecting my child. No matter what happens, no matter what Marco believes or doesn’t believe, I won’t let anyone hurt us.”
Vincent’s eyes flickered to her hand on her stomach. He said nothing for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. “You’re stronger than I remember, Carmen. But strength won’t mean much if you wait too long to act.”
She sighed, the ache in her chest deepening. “You don’t understand. If I go back now, Arianna will twist everything I say and everything I do. She’s already convinced Marco I’m the enemy. If I make one wrong move, she’ll take everything from me, including my child.”
Vincent studied her, his gaze calculating. “And you’re willing to let her win?”
Carmen’s expression hardened, her voice calm but filled with quiet steel. “She hasn’t won yet.”
Vincent’s lips quirked into the faintest smile. “Then don’t wait too long to prove it.”
Carmen fell silent, staring once more out the window as the night stretched on. Somewhere out there, Marco was walking into Arianna’s trap, chasing shadows she had so carefully crafted. She could feel the pull of it, the tug of everything unspoken between them—the love, the anger, the doubt.
But none of that mattered now.
Carmen glanced down at her growing stomach, her hand pressing gently against it as though to reassure the child within her. “I’ll protect you,” she whispered again, the words a quiet promise. “No matter what it takes.”
The fire crackled softly behind her, its warmth finally reaching her fingertips as she sat back and closed her eyes. Tomorrow would come, and with it, more battles to fight. But for now, she let herself breathe, just for a moment, knowing that everything—her life, her child, and her future—was about to change.
