The Double Life of My Pregnant Ex-Wife (Carmen and Marco) novel Chapter 43

The faint glow of dawn filtered through the thick clouds over Emilio Bianchi’s encampment, casting a gray light on the men gathered in a makeshift war room. Tents and supply crates littered the muddy ground, and armed mercenaries moved like shadows, checking their weapons and pacing in anticipation. Emilio stood at the center of it all, a towering man with graying hair and cruel, calculating eyes. His scarred face was split into a grim smile as he listened to Arianna outline the next phase of her plan.

“The Venettis are fractured,” Arianna said, pacing in front of a large table covered in maps. “Marco is distracted, and his forces are disorganized. We hit them where it hurts—weak outposts, supply chains, and men who are loyal but under-resourced.”

Emilio’s sharp gaze flickered to the map. “You’re certain their defenses are weak in these areas?”

“I’ve seen the reports,” Arianna replied confidently. “Marco’s spread too thin. Carmen’s the one holding the pieces together now, but that only creates more opportunities for us. His men are uneasy. Traditional allies don’t like taking orders from her. Use that.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Emilio’s throat. “A man like Marco, allowing a woman to fight his battles for him—it’s pathetic.”

Arianna’s lips curled into a smirk. “Which is why it won’t last. Carmen’s authority won’t go unchallenged for long. Marco’s supporters will start looking for someone to blame. The cracks will widen, and when they do, we’ll break through.”

Emilio leaned closer over the map, pointing to the eastern edge of Venetti territory. “We’ll start here. A series of quick strikes—cut off their resources, bleed them dry. We hit them hard and disappear before they can respond.”

“Perfect,” Arianna murmured, her eyes glittering. “By the time they realize what’s happening, they’ll be fighting ghosts.”

Emilio straightened, his grin widening as he turned to his second-in-command. “Prepare the men. We move by nightfall.”

Arianna stood back as the room buzzed with movement, Emilio barking orders and his men scrambling to prepare. She watched them with satisfaction, the pieces of her plan falling neatly into place. Marco Venetti had doubted her, trusted Carmen instead, and now he would pay the price.

She turned toward the exit, her smile sharpening as she whispered to herself, “Let’s see how long you can hold it together, Marco.”

________________

Back at the Venetti estate, the great hall was alive with activity, but the tension was unmistakable. Men shuffled in and out of the war room with grim faces, weapons being inspected and orders whispered. The losses were mounting. In the last two nights alone, two Venetti outposts had been hit, their supplies destroyed and loyal men killed or captured.

Marco paced near the far end of the room, his fists clenching at his sides as Sergio Montini and Luca stood at a large table, reviewing reports of the latest attacks.

“They’re coordinated,” Sergio said, frowning as he tapped the map with a gloved finger. “These aren’t random strikes. Whoever’s leading them knows exactly where to hit us.”

“It’s Arianna,” Luca said quietly, his voice edged with frustration. “She’s not acting alone. She’s got resources—mercenaries.”

“And she’s moving faster than we are,” Sergio added. “If we don’t tighten our defenses, she’ll bleed us dry before we can retaliate.”

Marco pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration etched across his face. “We’ll regroup,” he muttered. “We just need time to get our forces back in line.”

“We don’t have time.”

Carmen’s voice rang clearly through the room as she stepped inside, her chin lifted, her gaze sharp. Every head turned toward her, though some of Marco’s older, more traditional allies exchanged wary glances.

She walked straight to the table, placing her hands flat on the surface. “Sergio’s right. Arianna’s strikes are precise, which means someone inside her camp is feeding her intel. We need to cut her off and rebuild our position.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” one of Marco’s advisors, Pietro, asked, his tone skeptical. “We’re losing men faster than we can replace them. We don’t even know where she’s getting her resources.”