POV: Marco
The papers are still on my desk when Arianna stops laughing.
Not because she’s frightened.
Because she’s decided it’s time to change tactics.
I watch her carefully as she studies my face, as if recalibrating in real time. Her confidence never cracks—only adjusts. That alone should tell me something. It does tell me something. I just don’t want to listen to it.
“You don’t believe this,” she says softly, gesturing to the documents. “You’re too smart for that.”
I don’t answer immediately. I lean back in my chair instead, folding my arms, forcing distance between us. “I believe facts,” I say. “And these are detailed.”
“Detailed doesn’t mean true,” she replies. “It means intentional.”
She moves around the desk, slow and deliberate, heels barely making a sound on the floor. I track her without moving, every instinct on edge.
“You think I would sabotage you?” she continues. “After everything I’ve given you?”
“You gave me information,” I say. “That doesn’t equal loyalty.”
Her mouth tightens for just a fraction of a second. Then she sighs, like someone disappointed by my stubbornness.
“I expected better from you,” she says quietly.
That irritates me more than anger would have.
“Don’t turn this around,” I snap. “These files show you feeding information to both sides.”
“They show fragments,” she counters. “Taken out of context. You know how this world works, Marco. People weaponize data all the time.”
“And Carmen?” I ask sharply. “You think she’s behind this?”
Arianna’s gaze softens instantly. Too instantly.
“I think Carmen feels betrayed,” she says gently. “And people who feel betrayed don’t always act rationally.”
“She warned me about you,” I say.
“And now she’s working with Vincent Rossi,” Arianna replies smoothly. “A man who has wanted you dismantled for years.”
The name still burns.
I stand abruptly, circling the desk, stopping just short of her. “Don’t pretend you know her.”
“I know patterns,” she says. “And I know what abandonment looks like.”
Her voice lowers. “My family did the same thing. Whispered doubts. Planted seeds. Made me look like the traitor while they drained me dry.”
She looks up at me then, eyes bright, vulnerable in a way that feels rehearsed and real all at once.
“I lost everything because I trusted the wrong people,” she says. “I won’t do that again. And neither should you.”
Something twists in my chest.
Before I can respond, she reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone. “If you don’t believe me,” she says calmly, “then look at this.”
She taps the screen and slides it toward me.
Photos.
Carmen and Vincent.
Sitting on a terrace. Standing close on a street near my estate. Sharing a drink. Laughing.
My jaw locks instantly.
The images aren’t explicit. That’s the worst part. They don’t need to be. Intimacy lives in proximity, in comfort, in moments stolen without urgency.
“When were these taken?” I ask, my voice dangerously flat.
Arianna watches me carefully. “After she left you.”
Anger surges through me, sharp and uncontrollable. “She said she needed space.”
“And she found it,” Arianna replies. “In the arms of your enemy.”
“That’s not proof,” I say, though the words feel weak even to me.
“No,” she agrees. “It’s context.”
I stare at the screen, my thoughts spiraling. Carmen’s voice echoes in my head—hurt, furious, resolute. If you truly believe I would betray you, there is nothing left to save between us.
Did she already know?
Did she leave because she planned this?
“She was always strong,” Arianna continues softly. “Strategic. She knows exactly how to hurt you.”
I look up sharply. “Stop.”
Arianna steps closer, her presence filling the space Carmen once occupied in this room. “You deserve someone who stands beside you when things get ugly. Not someone who runs.”
“I didn’t ask you to comfort me,” I say harshly.
“I’m not,” she replies. “I’m reminding you who stayed.”
Her hand brushes my arm, light, deliberate. I don’t pull away fast enough.
“You were my first love,” she says quietly. “Before power. Before war. Before marriage turned into negotiation.”
My pulse spikes. “That was a lifetime ago.”
“And yet here we are,” she murmurs. “Facing the same enemies. Fighting the same battles.”
I step back, forcing space between us. “This doesn’t prove your innocence.”
“No,” she agrees. “But this will.”
She straightens, businesslike again in an instant. “There’s a dock outside the city. Sofia and Enzo are using it to transfer weapons. Off the books. Unmarked.”
My attention snaps back fully. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she says. “I wouldn’t bring this to you if I weren’t.”
My instincts scream caution.
“Why tell me now?” I ask.
“Because they’re moving faster,” she replies. “And because if you hit that dock, you cripple their supply chain. You remind everyone who holds power.”
“And if it’s a trap?” I press.
Arianna meets my gaze steadily. “Then you’ll see exactly who your enemies are.”
I hesitate.
Too much has happened too quickly. Carmen gone. Luca warning me. These documents. These photos. My judgment feels compromised, stretched thin between pride and paranoia.
Arianna steps closer once more, lowering her voice. “You don’t need to trust me forever. Just long enough to finish this.”
My jaw tightens.
Finally, I nod. “We hit the dock.”
Relief flashes across her face before she masks it. “You won’t regret this.”
As she turns to leave, she pauses at the door. “I’m sorry about Carmen,” she adds softly. “No one deserves to be betrayed by the person they love.”
The door closes behind her.
I stand alone in my office, staring at the scattered documents, at the photos still glowing on the desk.
I tell myself I’m doing this for the family. For the empire. For control.
But deep down, a darker truth coils in my chest.
I want to believe Arianna because believing her hurts less than believing Carmen chose someone else.
And that weakness—that single, human fracture—is exactly what’s about to cost me everything.