POV: Marco
The man is already bleeding when I walk in.
Not enough to kill him. Enough to remind him where he is.
He’s tied to the chair in the lower room beneath the estate, wrists bound behind his back, ankles chained to the floor. One side of his face is swollen, his lip split, blood dripping steadily onto the concrete. The smell of iron mixes with disinfectant and sweat, thick enough to cling to the back of my throat.
He works for the De Lucas.
Or at least, that’s what Luca’s men pulled out of him before I arrived.
I close the door behind me slowly, deliberately, letting the sound echo. The man jerks his head up at the noise, eyes wide, pupils blown. Fear radiates off him in waves. Good. Fear loosens tongues.
Luca stands off to the side, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He hasn’t said much since the dock. He doesn’t need to. Every silence between us lately feels loaded.
“What’s your name?” I ask calmly.
The man swallows. “T–Tommaso.”
I nod, as if committing it to memory. “Tommaso. Do you know who I am?”
“Yes,” he says quickly. Too quickly. “Marco Venetti.”
“And you know why you’re here?”
He hesitates. That’s a mistake.
I step closer, my shoes scraping against the floor. “Answer.”
He nods frantically. “I–I work logistics. I didn’t know—”
My hand comes down hard across his face.
The crack of skin against skin echoes in the room. His head snaps to the side, a cry tearing out of him as blood splatters onto the floor. He gasps, choking, trying to catch his breath.
“I didn’t ask what you didn’t know,” I say quietly. “I asked why you’re here.”
He sobs now, shoulders shaking. “Please. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Good,” I reply. “You’ll start with who you actually work for.”
His eyes flick to Luca for half a second before snapping back to me. That glance doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I work for the De Lucas,” he says. “For Enzo.”
I lean down until we’re eye level. “Lie to me again, and you won’t finish this conversation alive.”
His breath stutters. Sweat pours down his temples.
“I swear,” he cries. “Enzo. Sofia. That’s who pays me.”
I straighten slowly and gesture to one of my men. “Break his fingers.”
The man screams before they even touch him.
“No—no, please—”
The first finger snaps with a wet crack. His scream turns into a hoarse wail, his body thrashing uselessly against the restraints.
“Again,” I say.
Another finger. Another scream. Tears stream down his face, mixing with blood and snot, his dignity dissolving with every sound he makes.
“Stop!” he sobs. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you the truth.”
I raise my hand. My men step back.
I crouch in front of him again, voice calm, almost gentle. “Then tell me.”
His entire body shakes. “I work for Arianna Ricci.”
The room goes quiet.
Not the heavy, expectant silence from before. A sharp one. A dangerous one.
My chest tightens. “Say that again.”
“She pays me,” he cries. “She pays a lot of us. We funnel information. Routes. Schedules. We make sure the right people hear the right things.”
My pulse roars in my ears.
“And the De Lucas?” I ask.
“They think she’s on their side too,” he says desperately. “She has a deal with them. She always has. She plays both.”
Something inside my chest fractures.
I stand abruptly, pacing away, dragging a hand through my hair. The words echo over and over in my head. She plays both.
This is what Carmen said.
This is what Luca warned me about.
This is what the evidence pointed to.
I stop and turn back slowly. “You’re telling me Arianna Ricci fed me the dock.”
“Yes,” Tommaso sobs. “She told us to leak it. Said you’d come. Said the De Lucas would be ready.”
My jaw tightens so hard it hurts.
Luca steps closer to me, lowering his voice. “Marco.”
I don’t look at him. “He could be lying.”
“He could,” Luca agrees quietly. “But it fits.”
Fits.
The word lands like a punch.
I stare at the broken man in front of me, at his terror, his sincerity cracking through his desperation. He doesn’t look like someone spinning a clever lie. He looks like someone who knows he’s already dead and is hoping honesty buys him a few more seconds.
“Get him cleaned up,” I say finally. “And bring him upstairs.”
Luca hesitates. “You’re going to confront her.”
“Yes,” I snap. “Now.”
***
Arianna is already waiting when I summon her.
Of course she is.
She enters my study with the same composed grace she always carries, dressed impeccably, posture perfect, eyes warm. If I didn’t know better, I’d think nothing in the world could touch her.
“You sounded upset,” she says softly. “What happened?”
I don’t answer. I just stare at her.
Something flickers in her gaze. Not fear. Calculation.
“Marco,” she says, taking a step closer. “Talk to me.”
“I captured a De Luca underling,” I say flatly.
Her expression doesn’t change. “And?”
“He says he works for you.”
There it is.
The pause. Fractional. Almost invisible. But I see it.
“That’s absurd,” she says calmly. “Why would he say that?”
“Because he broke,” I reply. “Because he had no reason to lie anymore.”
She exhales slowly, as if disappointed. “You’re trusting a tortured man over me?”
“I’m asking you to explain,” I snap.
“I deserve your trust,” she says, her voice firm now. “After everything I’ve done for you.”
“Do you?” I challenge.
She steps closer, meeting my gaze without flinching. “Yes. And I can prove it.”
Before I can respond, she turns toward the door. “Bring him in.”
I stiffen. Luca moves immediately, opening the door.
Tommaso is dragged inside, barely able to stand, his hands wrapped in bloody bandages, his face pale and streaked with tears. The moment he sees Arianna, something changes.
He freezes.
Then he collapses.
He drops to his knees, sobbing violently, his entire body shaking as if he’s completely come undone.
“I’m sorry,” he cries. “I’m so sorry.”
Arianna gasps softly. “What is this?”
“I lied,” Tommaso sobs, pressing his forehead to the floor. “They told me to. They said if I said you were the traitor, they’d spare my family.”
My heart stutters.
“The De Lucas,” he continues, his voice breaking. “They’re trying to turn you against her. They want you to believe she betrayed you.”
Arianna steps forward, shock written across her face. “Marco… I’ve never seen this man in my life.”
Tommaso looks up at her, eyes red and desperate. “Please forgive me. I didn’t know what else to do.”
The room spins slightly.
I look at Luca. His jaw is clenched, eyes sharp, but he says nothing.
“You expect me to believe this?” I ask hoarsely.
Tommaso nods frantically. “They tossed me to you on purpose. To plant doubt. To break your alliance with her.”
Arianna’s voice trembles. “This is exactly what I warned you about. They’re trying to isolate you.”
I stare at the man on the floor, at his convincing collapse, his raw emotion, the way his story fits just as neatly as the one before it.
Too neatly.
But doubt cuts both ways.
“What do you want me to do?” Arianna asks softly. “Kill him? Prove my loyalty?”
The question hits hard.
“No,” I say after a long moment. “Get him out of my sight.”
Luca signals to the guards, who drag Tommaso away, still sobbing apologies.
The door closes.
Silence stretches.
“I would never betray you,” Arianna says quietly. “I know what betrayal does. I wouldn’t survive doing that to someone else.”
I study her face, searching for cracks. I don’t find any.
My chest aches with exhaustion. With confusion. With the weight of too many choices made too fast.
“I need to trust someone,” I say finally.
Arianna steps closer, resting her hand lightly on my arm. “Then trust the person who stayed.”
I close my eyes briefly.
And when I open them, I make the choice that feels easiest.
The one that hurts less.
The one that doesn’t require me to admit I was wrong.
“I believe you,” I say.
Relief softens her expression instantly.
Luca says nothing.
And that silence—that heavy, loaded silence—is the only thing that lingers after she leaves, whispering that I may have just sealed my own fate.