Chapter 7
Marco’s jaw tightened as her words sank in. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Arianna set her glass down and stood.
“Now,” she said briskly, her tone shifting back to business, “about those De Luca contacts. I think I can help you identify the weak links.”
Marco blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden change in direction. He forced himself to refocus on the matter at hand, but Arianna’s earlier insinuations lingered in the back of his mind, an unwelcome shadow.
By the time Marco left the estate, the night air felt colder than it had when he arrived. He climbed into the car, his expression grim as he stared out the window. Arianna’s words replayed in his mind, their subtle venom eating away at his confidence.
“Sometimes the ones closest to us have the most reason to betray us. They know exactly where it hurts.”
He shook his head, trying to push the thought away. Carmen had always been loyal to him. He couldn’t let Arianna’s manipulations get to him.
But as the car wound its way back to the Venetti estate, doubt began to creep in, unbidden and persistent.
…
**At the same time**
The bathroom felt impossibly small, the air thick with tension as Carmen stared at the plastic stick in her trembling hand. The pregnancy test sat on the counter, its result unmistakable. Two pink lines. Her stomach turned, and she pressed her palm against the cool marble sink, willing herself to steady.
Pregnant.
Her mind raced, a torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. A child. Marco’s child. She wasn’t sure whether to feel joy, fear, or heartbreak. The nausea that had plagued her for days had prompted her to take the test, but now that she had the answer, it brought no clarity—only questions.
How could she bring a child into this chaos? Into a house divided by distrust and Arianna’s shadowy presence? Marco had already questioned her loyalty, had chosen to entertain Arianna’s manipulations over trusting her. How could she tell him now, when every word they exchanged seemed to deepen the chasm between them?
Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye, and she barely recognized herself—eyes red-rimmed, jaw tight, her usual composure shattered.
She couldn’t tell him. Not yet. Not like this.
…
When Marco returned to the estate later that evening, Carmen was already in their bedroom, pacing as she mentally rehearsed her next confrontation. Her bags weren’t packed, but she had made her decision. The ultimatum she’d given him still stood, and tonight, she needed answers. She heard his footsteps approaching and steeled herself.
Marco stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over her tense frame. “Carmen,” he began, his voice calm but weary, “we need to talk.”
She didn’t let him finish. “Oh, now you want to talk?” she snapped, turning to face him. “Where was this energy when I told you to choose, Marco? Because it seems to me like you’ve already made your choice.”
His expression hardened. “Nothing has been decided yet.”
“Exactly,” Carmen fired back. “You’ve done nothing, Marco. You’ve let her stay. You’ve let her poison this house, our marriage, and now you think we can just ‘talk’ it out?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re overreacting.”
“Don’t you dare call this an overreaction!” Carmen’s voice rose, her emotions spilling over. “You’re letting her tear us apart, Marco. You don’t even see it, do you?”
Marco’s irritation flared, his tone sharp. “And you’re so quick to walk away. Maybe Arianna’s not the one trying to tear us apart.”
The words struck like a slap, and Carmen froze, stunned. “What did you just say?”
Marco didn’t back down. “You heard me.”
Her voice trembled with anger as she stepped closer. “If you think for one second that I’ve been disloyal to you after everything I’ve done—after everything I’ve sacrificed—then you’re even more blinded by her than I thought.”
Marco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond, his silence only fueling her frustration.
The next day, Marco found himself replaying their argument over and over, each word stinging more than the last. Carmen’s ultimatum hung over him like a storm cloud, but now, Arianna’s insinuations added a layer of suspicion he couldn’t shake. Was Carmen’s anger simply frustration, or was it guilt?
The thought gnawed at him as he went about his day. He recalled moments when Carmen seemed distant, distracted—times when she had left the estate without explanation or spent hours on phone calls she wouldn’t elaborate on. Each memory felt like a confirmation of Arianna’s warning.
