Ella’s soft, broken sobs filled the room as she clutched her hands to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Marco stood frozen, his jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides.
Carmen, chest heaving, hands shaking with rage, stood just a few feet away. Marco’s eyes flickered between them, his mind racing.
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, his voice sharp.
Ella let out a shaky breath, dabbing her wet cheeks with trembling fingers. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice fragile, broken. “I don’t know why she hates me so much.”
Carmen’s stomach twisted violently.
“I don’t hate you,” she spat. “I just know what you are!”
Ella let out a soft whimper, her shoulders shaking.
“I only ever tried to help,” she whispered, voice trembling with the perfect amount of hurt. “I love this family. I love Matteo. I don’t know what I did wrong.”
Carmen let out a sharp, bitter laugh.
“Are you serious?” she snapped, stepping forward. “You’re lying. You’re playing him—”
“Carmen, enough!” Marco’s voice boomed through the room.
Carmen’s breath caught. She turned to him, eyes wide with disbelief.
“You’re believing her?” she whispered.
Marco exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “Carmen, you just admitted to sneaking into her room,” he said, his voice frustrated, tired. “And now you’re yelling at her like she’s done something to you.”
Carmen felt like the floor had been ripped out from under her.
“Because she has!” she cried, tears of frustration burning her eyes. “Marco, she had a journal tracking Matteo’s every move! A photo of our family—with my face scratched out!”
Marco’s expression flickered—for just a moment.
Doubt. It was there. Ella let out another heartbreaking sob, shaking her head.
“Oh, Mr. Venetti,” she choked out. “I don’t know why she’s saying these things. I would never hurt Matteo. Never!”
Marco’s jaw tightened. Ella’s tears glistened under the dim light, her body curled inwards, as if she were wounded, broken, scared.
“She’s manipulating you,” Carmen whispered, her voice cracking.
Marco didn’t answer. And that? That broke something inside of her.
“You think I’m making this up, don’t you?” Carmen asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Marco rubbed his temple again, exhaling sharply.
“Carmen, you’re acting paranoid,” he muttered. Carmen felt like she couldn’t breathe.
“I am not paranoid!” she snapped. “I am trying to protect our son!”
Marco shook his head, exhausted. “Carmen, you need to stop this,” he said, his voice clipped, impatient. “You’re losing your mind over this nanny thing.”
Losing her mind. Carmen staggered back, her chest aching.
“You really think that?” she whispered. Marco hesitated. But then—he sighed.
“I think you need to calm down,” he muttered.
Carmen felt like screaming. She had never felt so alone. So helpless. So betrayed. Her hands trembled as she turned her gaze back to Ella.
Ella, who stood there so small, so fragile, so perfect in her fake sadness. Ella, who had Marco wrapped around her damn finger. Ella, who had won.
Carmen swallowed the rage bubbling up her throat.
“You will regret this,” she said, her voice low and filled with quiet fury.
Then she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her heart shattering with every step.
The second the door slammed shut, the sobbing stopped. The shaking stilled.The fragile, pitiful expression melted away. Ella wiped her face dry, her breath evening out instantly.
She lifted her head, straightening her posture.
Then—
She smiled.
A slow, knowing, victorious smile.