Chapter 58
The aftermath of Giovanni’s execution rippled through the Venetti family like a stone dropped into a still pond. In the days that followed, tension simmered among Marco’s men. Conversations grew quieter, glances sharper, and the once-solid circle of trust surrounding Marco and Carmen now felt fractured and fragile.
Marco stood in the center of the war room, his advisors gathered around him. Maps and reports lay scattered across the table, but the usual air of efficiency was missing. Sergio Montini broke the silence, his tone cautious.
“You acted decisively, Marco,” Sergio began, his words slow and deliberate. “But some of the men are uneasy. Giovanni was… respected.”
“Giovanni was a traitor,” Marco said flatly, his gaze sweeping the room. “Respected or not, he betrayed this family. Anyone who doubts my actions is welcome to leave.”
The room shifted uncomfortably. Pietro, one of Marco’s senior advisors, spoke up. “No one’s questioning the need to deal with betrayal, Marco. But the way it happened… it’s not sitting right with everyone.”
“What way?” Marco asked coldly.
Pietro hesitated, then glanced at Carmen, who stood quietly by Marco’s side. “Some think her influence is… steering you in directions you wouldn’t have taken before.”
The room fell silent, the weight of Pietro’s words hanging heavy. Carmen straightened, her expression calm but unyielding.
“Let me be clear,” Carmen said, her voice cutting through the tension. “Giovanni’s betrayal had nothing to do with influence. It was about survival. If Marco hadn’t acted, we’d be picking up the pieces of another attack right now. Do you think Giovanni would have spared your lives if he’d succeeded?”
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
Marco stepped forward, his voice sharp. “Enough of this. Giovanni is gone, and we’re moving forward. If anyone has a problem with that, speak now or step aside.”
No one spoke.
“Good,” Marco said, his tone final. “Now let’s focus on the real threats—Arianna’s remnants and anyone foolish enough to stand with them.”
***
Later that evening, Carmen sat in the study, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. The quiet was a rare reprieve, but her mind refused to settle. She knew the unrest among Marco’s men wasn’t going to disappear overnight.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. “Come in,” she called.
Sofia stepped inside, her expression wary. “Carmen, a few of the men are meeting in the east wing. I think you should know… they’re questioning Marco’s judgment again.”
Carmen sighed, setting her cup down. “I’ll handle it.”
Sofia hesitated. “Are you sure? They’re… traditionalists. They might not take kindly to your involvement.”
Carmen smiled faintly. “They don’t have to take kindly to it. They just have to listen.”
