Chapter 40
The storm raged outside the Venetti estate, a relentless downpour that mirrored the chaos inside Marco’s mind. The crack of thunder rattled the windows as he sat alone in his office, staring blankly at the drink on his desk. The glass sat untouched, the amber liquid glowing faintly in the low light.
Marco felt hollow. The days had blurred together, each one marked by whispers, accusations, and decisions he wasn’t sure were his own anymore. Arianna’s words echoed endlessly in his head: Carmen betrayed you. She’s building her own empire. She’s planning to take everything.
The doubts had taken root deep inside him, festering like poison. He thought he’d buried his anger, his hurt, but it lingered—feeding his decisions, clouding his judgment.
The knock at the door was sharp, pulling him out of his stupor.
“Come in,” Marco said, his voice low.
The door opened, and Luca stepped inside. He looked disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and wet from the rain, his face pale and set with a grim determination. He closed the door behind him, locking it quietly before turning to face Marco.
“What now?” Marco muttered, leaning back in his chair. “If this is about Carmen—”
“It’s not about Carmen,” Luca said, cutting him off. His voice was firm, edged with urgency. “It’s about Arianna.”
Marco’s brow furrowed. “What about her?”
Luca stepped forward and dropped a thick folder onto the desk with a dull thud. “This.”
Marco’s gaze flickered to the folder, his expression wary. “What is it?”
“Proof,” Luca said simply. “Everything Carmen’s been saying. Everything Arianna’s been lying about. It’s all in there.”
Marco stared at the folder for a long moment, his fingers hovering just above it as though it might burn him. Finally, he picked it up and opened it, the pages inside spilling out like a torrent of ugly truths.
The first document was one of the letters Arianna had shown him—one that supposedly proved Carmen had been conspiring with Vincent Rossi. But now, side by side with the forged counterpart, the differences were clear. The handwriting was close, but not identical. The ink bled slightly at the edges, as though hastily done.
“It’s fake,” Luca said, his voice cutting through the silence. “All of it. Arianna forged those letters to turn you against Carmen.”
Marco’s hands froze over the paper, his throat tightening as he moved to the next page. Financial records—bank statements Arianna had concealed—revealing payments to the De Lucas. Messages, intercepted and decoded, proving Arianna had been orchestrating attacks behind his back.
The attack on Sergio Montini.
The sabotage that led to the Venetti men’s deaths.
The whispers that had fractured his alliances.
Every piece was there, laid bare in black and white. Marco’s vision blurred as he flipped through the evidence, his pulse pounding in his ears.
“This… this can’t be,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.
“It is,” Luca said, his tone hard. “I snuck into her estate myself and found those documents. She’s been working with the De Luca remnants since the beginning. She set up the attack on Montini to frame Vincent, Marco. She’s been playing you.”
Marco looked up at Luca, his expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I tried,” Luca said sharply. “But you wouldn’t listen. You wouldn’t see it, not when you were so convinced Carmen was the problem.”
Marco flinched at the words, guilt tightening in his chest like a vise. His mind spun, replaying every argument, every accusation he’d thrown at Carmen.
The baby.
The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Carmen told you the truth, and you didn’t believe her. You pushed her away.
Marco shoved the papers aside, raking a hand through his hair as he stood abruptly. “Where is Arianna now?”
“She’s still at her estate,” Luca replied, watching him closely. “But if you don’t move now, she’ll disappear.”
Marco grabbed his phone from the desk, dialing quickly. “Get my men ready,” he barked into the receiver. “We’re moving on Arianna Ricci’s estate. I want her alive.”
Luca’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as though the weight he’d been carrying for weeks had finally shifted. “You’re making the right call.”
Marco didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The fury boiling inside him had no outlet, no direction other than the woman who had torn apart his life piece by piece.
And yet, beneath the anger, guilt coiled around him like a serpent. Carmen tried to save you. You didn’t listen.
________________
By the time Marco’s convoy of black SUVs arrived at Arianna’s estate, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. The mansion loomed ahead, dark and silent except for the faint glow of lights in the windows. Marco stepped out of the lead vehicle, his men falling in behind him, weapons drawn and faces set.
He glanced at Luca, who nodded tightly before signaling the men to fan out. Marco’s grip on his gun was steady, but his mind roiled with thoughts of everything Arianna had taken from him—his allies, his empire, and Carmen.
They moved quickly, breaching the front doors and sweeping through the house room by room. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the soft creak of boots on marble floors and the occasional shout of a clear room.
“She’s not here,” one of the men called from down the hall.
Marco’s heart sank as he stormed into the grand sitting room, his jaw tight. It was empty—no Arianna, no guards. Only a single envelope sat propped on the mantle, as if waiting for him.
Marco snatched it up, tearing it open with shaking hands. A single sheet of paper slid out, Arianna’s familiar, elegant handwriting scrawled across it.
“You were too late, Marco.”
Marco’s chest heaved as he crushed the note in his fist, his anger boiling over. “Find her!” he roared, his voice echoing through the empty house. “I don’t care what it takes. Find her!”
Luca appeared at the doorway, his expression grim. “She knew we were coming.”
Marco turned toward him, his face pale and furious. “Then we hunt her down.”
Luca didn’t argue, but his gaze lingered on Marco, as if he could see the cracks spreading beneath the surface. “This doesn’t end here.”
Marco sank into the nearest chair, his hands braced against his knees as he tried to steady his breathing. The words on the note haunted him, looping over and over in his mind.
You were too late.
Arianna had slipped through his fingers, but it wasn’t just her escape that weighed on him. It was the knowledge that Carmen had been right all along—that her warnings, her pleas, had fallen on deaf ears.
You didn’t trust her, his mind whispered. You pushed her away.
The memory of her final ultimatum hit him hard: “Either you acknowledge Arianna as the real enemy, or I will leave you and the Venetti empire behind for good.”
Now, with the truth laid bare and Arianna on the run, Marco finally understood the damage he had done.
And for the first time in his life, Marco Venetti felt like he’d truly lost.
