Chapter 8
That evening, he decided he needed answers. He found Carmen in the sitting room, seated at a desk and reviewing documents for an upcoming charity event. She looked up when he entered, her expression cool and guarded.
“Is there something you need?” she asked, her tone clipped.
Marco closed the door behind him and stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “Is there something you want to tell me, Carmen?”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Do you have something you need to confess?”
She straightened, her eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been so quick to throw accusations at me,” Marco said, his tone measured but sharp. “So quick to threaten to leave. Makes me wonder if there’s more to it than just Arianna.”
Carmen’s anger flared, and she stood abruptly, facing him with defiance. “You’re accusing me of something? After everything I’ve done for you? For this family?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Marco said, his frustration breaking through. “I’m just asking why you’re so desperate to leave.”
“Desperate?” Carmen’s laugh was bitter, filled with disbelief. “No, Marco. I’m giving you a choice—a chance to prove where your loyalties lie. But it’s clear that you’re more interested in listening to her poison than trusting your own wife.”
Marco’s expression darkened. “I wouldn’t have to ask if you weren’t acting so guilty.”
Carmen’s hands clenched at her sides, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “Guilty? You’re accusing me of guilt when you’re the one sneaking off to spend hours alone with her? You’ve crossed the line, Marco. Not me.”
Their words flew like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last. Marco accused her of letting pride cloud her judgment, of putting her emotions above the family’s survival. Carmen countered that he had sacrificed their marriage for his ego, his need to control everything—even her.
“If you think for a second that I would betray you,” she said finally, her voice breaking, “then there’s nothing left between us to save.”
Marco’s reply was cold, his tone like ice. “Maybe there isn’t.”
Her breath caught at his words, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Carmen’s expression was a mix of heartbreak and fury as she turned and walked away. Marco didn’t stop her, his own anger and doubt leaving him rooted in place.
In the study, Marco sat down heavily in his chair, his head in his hands. The silence in the room was deafening, filled with the echoes of their fight and Arianna’s voice, soft and calculating. “Sometimes the ones closest to us have the most reason to betray us.” For the first time, he wasn’t sure if the woman he loved was truly on his side.
…
The bedroom was cloaked in shadows, the faint glow of the bedside lamp casting long fingers of light across the floor. Carmen sat on the edge of her bed, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress as though it might anchor her in place. Her gaze kept drifting toward the drawer where the pregnancy test lay hidden, its presence a silent weight pressing down on her.
She had already looked at it a dozen times, as if the result might somehow change. But the two pink lines remained constant, undeniable. She placed a trembling hand on her stomach, her heart clenching at the thought of the tiny life growing inside her.
Her child. Marco’s child.
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t cry. Not now. She had to think. She had to protect her baby.
Her mind replayed the argument from earlier that evening, Marco’s cold words cutting through her like a blade. “Maybe there isn’t [anything left to save].”
How had they come to this?
There had been a time when they were inseparable, when they faced the world together as partners in every sense of the word. She remembered how he used to confide in her, his voice soft and full of dreams about the future they would build. He would hold her close on quiet nights, his kisses trailing down her forehead as he whispered that she was the only person he trusted.
But those days felt like a lifetime ago.
Now, Arianna’s shadow loomed over everything, tainting their home, their conversations, their trust. Carmen tried to picture telling Marco about the baby, but the image crumbled under the weight of his recent actions. Would he even care, or would he dismiss it as another “distraction” from his so-called strategy? Worse, what if Arianna found out? The thought of her child being drawn into Arianna’s web of lies and manipulation made Carmen’s stomach churn.
“This isn’t just about me anymore,” she whispered into the silence, her voice breaking. “I have to protect you.”
Carmen rose from the bed and opened her closet, her hands trembling as she pulled out a small suitcase. She couldn’t stay. Not like this. Not when Marco couldn’t see past Arianna’s games. Leaving him felt like tearing out a piece of her soul, but it was no longer just about her heartache. Her child deserved better than a house filled with tension, distrust, and lies.
