[RE-WRITTEN]

Liliana's eyes watered as she heaved, an acidic taste burned the back of her throat. Mercello's heavy hand glided soothing circles against the bare skin of her back but it didn't relieve the ache swirling deep inside her.

Her stained shirt was discarded somewhere on the bathroom floor and she sat curled against the toilet edge as her stomach propelled upwards and her dinner was lost. The rush of running water pooling in their claw foot tub was the only thing she could hear past the rush of blood in her ears. They'd barely made it inside the bedroom before Liliana's frantic hands had ripped and tugged forcefully at her shirt to get rid of it. The ugly scrap of once white material felt grossly heavy against her body, weighing her into the carpet, pulling her down so that she could not stand on her feet without Mercello beside her. Not that it had been long before she'd crumbled to her knees in the bathroom to empty her violently churning stomach.

Now all adrenaline had worn off, all Liliana could focus on was the heaviness of her limbs, the throbbing of her head and the numbness that had settled everywhere else. She hadn't spoken once. Even if she tried, she wasn't sure she could. Her throat felt tight, and painful, and the feel of that man's hands wrapped around her neck still lingered.

But Marcello had not stopped speaking. The gentle hush of his voice brushed across the back of her neck, as he leant in close and held back the few loose strands of hair that escaped its elastic hold. The sound was perhaps the only think keeping her grounded, keeping her present, here in the bathroom beside him. His voice was an anchor, preventing her from slipping away and receding into herself.

Her retching lasted no longer than five minutes but Liliana was exhausted. She didn't know whether it was the blow to her head or the sight of that body lying in such a way across the carpet, that had her feeling so disorientated, and her chest tight, heart heavy. There had bene so much blood out there. A stain like that would never come out, and she didn't think she could walk past such a reminder every day.

Stumbling to her feet, Marcello gripping her forearms tightly, she rushed to the sink, scrubbing her stained hands and arms furiously under scorching water. The blood had dried an ugly, dark colour against her tan skin and could only be removed after thorough scratching at it.

Blunt nails dug into her arms, clawing at the blood under the hot water. As the blood washed away, her skin was left pink and sore.

"Liliana," Marcello's firm voice broke through her tearful mumbling. It was his tight grip on her wrist that had her retreating into his chest, pulling her hands out from under the water. "It's okay, it wasn't your fault." His voice turned to a soft whisper. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her back and after minutes of standing there with him in silence, her breaths evened out to follow the gentle rhythm. "Let's get you cleaned up properly, I have someone on their way to check on you."

A glance in the mirror above the sink showed there to be far more blood that Liliana first thought, her neck was drenched and smears of it were streaked across the flushed skin of her face. The fall of her tears had carved a path through the filthy mask. Beneath the blood on her neck, where her skin still showed she could see the pink imprints of fingers around her throat, the visible injury that had her throat feeling hoarse every time she swallowed.

Liliana nodded in silence, turning to face Marcello with her eyes cast to the ground. She wanted to tell him that she was fine, that a doctor wasn't needed, that she just wanted to crawl into their bed and sleep - but even in such distress she knew not to be so stupid. The hit to her head had been hard. Sleeping it off was probably one of the worst things she could do right now.

"It's not hot," Marcello explained, gesturing to the bath he had drawn, "But it's warm enough for you to get cleaned up. Do you need help getting in?"

Heat flushed her cheeks at the thought off needing any help to carry out a task so mundane.

"Please," she whispered, embarrassed that she felt she couldn't even step into a bathtub by herself. But her hands still had not relented their shaking and her knees were still weak. With slow movements, her fingers hesitant and clumsy, she struggled to unbutton her jeans and push the stiff material past her hips and down the length of her legs until they pooled onto the floor and she was stepping out of them, her hands clutched on Mercello's forearms.

Her underwear was shed and this time Liliana held no embarrassment. Mercello had seen her as bare as this before and given the situation, she knew his focus would not be her body.

With his grip still tight, Liliana stepped into the water, the warm liquid swallowing her limbs as she descended, until eventually she was submerged almost entirely. Immersed up to her neck in the water, there was the unmistakable metallic stench of blood in the room that kept a tension in Liliana's body despite the gentle heat of the water seeping into her. Marcello sat beside the bath in silence.

The sound of the water lapping against the side of the bathtub as her hands moved mindlessly against the surface ensured true silence never fell across the bathroom but the tension was still present all the same. Liliana glanced to her right, staring unabashed at her husband. His head was turned towards her but his eyes lost just above the crevice of her neck, seemingly enraptured with the space between her and the rest of the room, lost in his thoughts.

"You don't have to stay," she whispered, her voice so faint that had she spoken in any other room the words would have been lost, but in the quiet of the bathroom between just the two of them, the words were clear and sharp and dragged Mercello from any thoughts that had kept him occupied. Truthfully, she could not bare to be alone but the tender company of her husband had her at an unease. This wasn't the first time she had been subject to his caring nature, and after countless accounts of his harsh attitude she knew that she should welcome it for she knew it did not always last, but such attention had her feeling weak. It tricked her into believing that he could be a caring man, a man she could trust.

"You've got to be insane to think I'm leaving your side right now," he snapped, finally meeting her eyes. Her hot tempered husband had returned; he had been so quiet, so reserved in the last ten minutes, she was beginning to think he had disappeared entirely. She found the familiarity to be a comfort. Marcello eyed her mouth as the faintest evidence of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, his own expression tightening into a barely restrained scowl, as he muttered gruffly, "It shouldn't be long before the doctor arrives."

Liliana nodded, her attention falling to his hands that were resting against his knees, his fingers tapping furiously. He heaved a heavy sigh.

"What happened, Liliana? I mean-" Marcello slammed his hand against the adjacent wall, a frustrated grunt escaping him. Liliana flinched, heart racing as she eyed him nervously. She didn't fear him, no part of her believed he would hurt her in this moment, but she was certainly weary of such an emotional outburst. "We were only gone two hours, what happened?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Liliana laughed hoarsely, her cheeks becoming wet. "After confining me to the house for so long under the guise of safety, how is it that he attacked me here, where I am meant to be safest?"

What was the point of restricting her life to such extreme extents if it still did not guarantee her safety? Once again, Liliana was left questioning why Marcello felt the need to 'protect' her so vehemently and confine her to the house, when tonight's events confirmed she was at just as much risk here than she was anywhere else - more so, in fact, when she considered the fact that tonight's attack had been seemingly coincidental.

If she had not left her bedroom, if she had retired to bed already, would she instead be safely asleep right now? If she had not happened upon the intruder, would he still be alive?

Marcello wouldn't meet her eyes as he explained, "The majority of our security has been compromised. Whoever that bastard was, he wasn't alone, and he's working with some powerful people."

Alone. No, the intruder certainly hadn't been - he'd been speaking to someone on the phone, after all. But the thought of someone so powerful - powerful enough to defy Marcello - behind the intrusion was terrifying. She was lucky she had survived.

A hand fell to her shoulder, and on instinct Liliana flinched and grabbed it with her own, her palm curving tightly around Marcello's knuckles. She winced as the wounds of her hands were disturbed, and quickly pulled it back into the water once again, the sting of her cuts a blatant reminder of what had occurred this evening.

"He'd been on the phone," she confessed, struggling to swallow as her mouth became dry. "He hit me over the head, before I'd even noticed him. I don't know what with. I was too out of it to understand what was going on, at first. I don't remember what he said."

"Your hands," Mercello uttered, seeming unconcerned with her overview of what had happened at the sight of her injuries. He grasped her wrist gently, bringing her hand closer to his face. A finger tip grazed the outside of her palm, where the flesh was tender but not broken. In the centre of her palm were three cuts; two small slices against her skin and one large gash that looked deeper than she had thought now that the blood had been wash away. It was still bleeding, barely, in the way that caused the flesh to be tinged a deep pink but not enough for her palm to still be bloodied or for her bathwater to colour.

He reached for her other hand. The wounds were not as severe, there was no need for stitches, but the skin was broken in various places across her fingertips and palm, most likely from where she had pushed herself up from the ground against the shattered glass that decorated the hallway.

"This need to be wrapped up, you should have said something." His brows were furrowed and Liliana wondered if it was merely from worry or if she had angered him in some way. Usually it wasn't all that hard to irritate him, and Liliana was hardly ever apologetic, but right now she didn't have the energy for an argument.

"They don't hurt, not anymore." She wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. She knew she had not become completely numb to the pain, as her head still throbbed. Marcello nodded, but his eyes had drifted away again and Liliana knew he was hardly listening. Her hands were released gently and he clambered to his feet and for a moment Liliana would leave, but he only moved towards the bathroom cabinet.

"Clean up and I'll wrap your hand."

Marcello was quick to find a first aid box, and was there to hand her a towel as she stepped shakily out of the bathtub. He waited until she was in the bedroom again, dressed in her warmest pyjamas, before he began to wrap her hands.

She was sat crossed legged on the mattress, her hand out and resting on his lap as he rolled out the gauze. Her hands were freezing but Mercello's body heat seeped into her skin and when he grasped her hand gently in his, his fingertips felt as if they were burning.

"How are you feeling?" He mumbled, as he made slow work of wrapping her hand in the large stretch of gauze, tight enough that it felt secure but not enough to hurt. When the ends were tied, rather than releasing her hands his thumb danced across her palm with a feather light touch. Liliana couldn't seem to form a response, her head shook softly as she looked down at her lap, eyes becoming wet. Mercello grazed her cheek, cupping her jaw so she would look at him.

"Something like this isn't going to happen a second time Liliana, I promise," Marcello assured earnestly, leaning so close that it felt as if she were drowning in his presence. She sighed softly.

"I'm sure you didn't mean for it to happen the first time, don't make promises you can't possibly keep Marcello." Her tone wasn't bitter, and she had no intention of insulting him, she just spoke honestly.

"Do you blame me?"

"You weren't the one behind the attack." She didn't know how else to assure him. Perhaps if she wasn't married to him then she wouldn't have been under threat but that wasn't his fault. Their fathers were to blame for their marriage and Sebastiano had been the one to drag everyone but her from the house. Mercello couldn't have been to know.

"If I had been here, you wouldn't be injured," he stated firmly, a tick to his jaw.

"Marcello, you're hardly ever here. There's been plenty of moments that I could have been vulnerable in the house and your brother's wouldn't have reached me in time."

A solid knock on the bedroom door put an abrupt end to their conversation, and Liliana breathed a sigh. He hadn't seemed pleased by her words and the conversation was beginning to become uncomfortable and heated, as it always did between them.

Liliana was perched on the side of the bed when the doctor was shown into the room. She had told Mercello rather firmly that she didn't want to step foot outside the bedroom and thankfully he didn't question that. He'd told her that she wouldn't be leaving the house at all for tonight, not until they'd cleared the grounds.

The doctor, a dark skinned man with greying hair and a thick beard, named Dr Isaac had clearly been called out of bed. His creased suit looked as if it had been hastily thrown on, and his tie had been knotted poorly. He must have been someone the D'Onofrio's trusted immensely though, to be trusted inside the manor at such a time of night, after what had just occurred. At his side, he carried a small black, leather bag.

Now that she was clean of blood, and Marcello had taken great care to wrap her hand, Liliana felt the beginnings of exhaustion setting in. She didn't want to deal with the doctor, she didn't want to have to recount what had happened and what her injuries were, all she wanted was to bury herself under the blankets of their bed and stay there as long as she possibly could.

In the open doorway to their bedroom, she could see Angelo and Giovanni. They watched her with twin concern. Weak smiles were offered from Angelo while Giovanni only appeared grim, his jaw clenched as his eyes scanned her from head to toe multiple times, as if to check she were still in one piece.

"Would you like to come in?" Her voice cracked as she spoke, forcing a soft smile on her face. Marcello's stern glare directed towards his brothers kept them in place, and he soon ushered them away with a curt, 'Goodnight'.

Introductions were made between Liliana and the doctor, though Marcello said little else as he scrutinized every move Dr Isaac made during the examination. It was as if he feared Dr Isaac would dare to hurt her in front of him. She wanted to roll her eyes and tell him to be sensible, but found her heart warming somewhat at his clear concern.

The only time the doctor spoke throughout his examination was to ask her short questions, being mindful of the sensitive topic as he continuously shot Marcello a sideways glance. She revealed the blow to her head, the broken glass and nothing more. She'd struggled to confess just that much as it was. She wasn't enjoying the examination, every question making her feel weaker and weaker.

"Your pupils are dilated, and with the vomiting and nausea, it's likely you have a concussion. I'd advice for someone-" Dr Isaac glanced once again towards Marcello. Her husband stood off to the side, jaw clenched and his arms crossed tightly, with his familiar scowl. "-to stay with you tonight, and make sure you don't show any signs for concern. Get someone to wake you after a few hours of sleep, and make sure your condition isn't worsening. You don't seem to be exhibiting any worrying, more serious symptoms at the moment, but just to be on the safe side, I'm going to schedule an appointment at my office tomorrow where we can go through some more routine checks so we know that everything is, in fact, okay."

He paused, checking his watch briefly.

"You really should have applied an icepack or something similar to your head as soon as possible to reduce the swelling that's occurring, I would suggest doing so as soon as I'm gone but be sure to wrap it in a towel first. Apply it for about twenty minutes before you go to bed, it will relieve some of the pain too."

The doctor sat back a little further in his chair, his sights once again straying to Marcello - something that was becoming increasingly irritating - before falling to her bandaged hand.

"Do I need to check your hands as well or..." It wasn't her confirmation he was seeking and he seemed only placated once Mercello grumbled a snappish, 'It's fine'. Dr Isaac nodded and reached for his bag, stretching to his feet, offering Liliana a soft pat on the shoulder and raising his chin at Mercello in a farewell before escaping the confines of their bedroom.

"Are all the people that you hire so afraid of you?" Liliana commented quietly once they were alone. "I think he was too concerned with you being in the room at first to even look me in the eye."

Mercello shrugged one shoulder. "He's been around for quite a while, treated a lot of illnesses in the family. He'd be an idiot if he wasn't scared. I'll get you some ice."

He'd barely made it to the door though before it was being pushed open and Angelo was tumbling inside, nearly falling flat on his face as a smirking Giovanni strolled in behind him.

"Icepack?" Angelo's hand thrust out in Liliana's direction, throwing a small icepack in her direction which caused her to flinch and struggle to catch it as Angelo righted himself. She quirked an eyebrow at him, glancing at Giovanni and then over at an unamused Mercello.

"He was being nosy, had his head at the door the entire time." Angelo turned to scowl at Giovanni who had just ratted him out. A sheepish smile was offered at Liliana.

"We were both there-"

"I didn't have my ear pressed against their door," Giovanni scoffed.

"-and we were concerned about you. All we saw was you sat in a pool of blood, and then Marcello was whisking you off. We didn't know if you were dying or not," he huffed. "Forgive me for caring so much!"

"You're being far too loud right now. Liliana is fine, but she is tired, and doesn't want to deal with you right now. Get out of our room," Marcello snapped.

While she didn't see the need for his harsh tone, Liliana did agree with him. She was feeling exhausted and wanted to just go straight to bed. Mercello shoved at Angelo's shoulder but he just rocked back on his heels and offered his brother a wounded pout, not showing any indication that he was leaving, and instead looked towards Liliana as if seeking confirmation.

"Thank you for the ice, Angelo. I promise you I'm fine but I do really need to rest," she urged, moving her eyes over towards the door and back to the two men still stood just a step inside the bedroom. She wanted to just close her eyes and not think of anything - as difficult as she knew that would be with her mind reeling so much.

***

Despite Marcello's care the previous night, and his obvious concern for Liliana the next morning, he did no accompany her to Dr Isaac's office. Instead, Giovanni and Angelo would stay with her to ensure her safety, along with what remained of her guards. This came as no surprise to Liliana, and, assuming Marcello was busy looking into the reason for last nights attack, she could barely blame him for his current absence. Regardless or logic, though, she found herself missing his presence anyway.

"Come on Lil'," Angelo coaxed with a bright smile and an arm wrapped around her shoulder as they sat in the back seat of one of the D'Onofrio town cars. "Cheer up a bit. So the boring brother isn't here, you've still got the best of the bunch." He winked at her despite Giovanni's less than encouraging groan from beside them.

"I was enjoying the peace while you were away," Giovanni grumbled, offering his brother a side glare as he crossed his arms stiffly in his seat.

"Jeez, Gio," Angelo huffed, "I see you've not become any less of a grump."

"Well, neither has Marcello so stop being so cosy with his wife," he grunted. Liliana rolled her eyes.

"It's not as if I'm sat right here, or anything," Liliana said dryly, amused by the brothers bickering but unable to focus on much else other than the contents of her purse, clutched tightly in her hands. Lucetta had handed her another envelope just before they had left the house, this one thicker and heavier than the rest. Liliana hadn't yet dared to open it, especially in her current company.

As soon as they arrived outside the doctor's office, Angelo and Giovanni had sobered up, shifting from two playful siblings to stern faced professionals. They flanked her from the car to inside the building, shielding her from the sight of anyone that might be out on the streets, while her guards followed.

"Mrs D'Onofrio," Dr Isaac greeted, casting a wary glance at her brother-in-laws. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Despite her protests, both Giovanni and Angelo insisted on joining her inside the doctors office, both men looking entirely uncomfortable in the small room. Angelo had taken the seat beside her while Giovanni was left to stand at the door. Liliana was sure that her guards would be stood just outside in the corridor.

"So," Dr Isaac began. "Firstly, how are you feeling this morning?"

"Well, uh," she hesitated, looking over at Giovanni and Angelo. "I threw up again this morning and I've felt a bit disorientated." Her brother-in-laws shared a look. Neither she or Mercello had mentioned this to them this morning, Liliana didn't wanted to cause any concern but it seemed pointless now.

"That will be due to the concussion," Dr Isaac confirmed, turning to type something into his computer. "How are you feeling now, still disorientate or nauseous? What have you eaten this morning?"

Her hands wrung together in her lap, still gripping onto the leather material of her bag as she bit her lip. She'd refused to leave it inside the car for obvious reasons and now she felt it was her lifeline as all three men stared at her so intently. She wanted to be done with all of this. She didn't want to have to think of the night before ever again though she knew that could never be the case. She would remember that man for the rest of her life.

"I still feel a bit weak. My head isn't hurting anymore but its sore if I touch it. No queasiness and no dizziness, and I've had what I usually do on a morning, some fruit and granola and a cup of tea. I felt fine this morning, but when I woke up, I stood up too fast getting out of the bed and it had me a little light headed, which was when I felt I was going to be sick."

Dr Isaac continued typing throughout her explanation, nodding his head as he did, presumably taking notes of everything. He then spent an uncomfortable minute in silence, clicking the mouse and typing a few singular words until he turned to face her once again, clasping his hands together in front of him.

"Okay," he began, shooting Giovanni by the door another wary glance. "You need to take it easy for the next few days, no reading or watching television, little to no exercise, drink plenty of water and making sure you eat regularly. Marcello has asked that I do some extra routine checks, just to make sure you're in good health on all fronts, so I'm going to take a blood sample, your blood pressure, and your weight, and then ask you to come back in a few weeks time and do the same."

The checks and blood samples didn't take as long as she had expected and no more than fifteen minutes later Liliana was standing and ready to leave the practice. Dr Isaac had informed her that he would call her or Marcello when the results from her blood tests came back.

Returning home Liliana had been caught in a trance. Before she knew it she was back at the manor and already on her feet by the front door. She hadn't expected Marcello to be home and waiting for them but he had. Feigning exhaustion, she'd excused herself to the bedroom - supposedly under the advice of the doctor. There she was quick to wrench the dreaded envelope from her purse, weighing the troubling object in her hands. It was thicker than usual but her name in the same font was displayed on the front.

Tearing into it was easier than expected, it was comprehending the contents that she found difficult. Liliana's eyes glazed over the glossed, high focus photographic prints hanging deftly from her limp grip. 'The D'Onofrio Manor', was the caption attached with the photographs, and Liliana indeed recognised the same crème tiles of the hallway she walked through every morning. The same tiles, that in the photograph, were tainted with her mother's blood.

The photographs fell from between her fingertips, swooping down towards the floor and fanning out across the carpet of her bedroom. She had spoken to him, Mercello, about her mother. He had questioned her about Emiliana Friorenza and encouraged to tell him all about her death, as if he hadn't already known, as if what she had told him hadn't been wrong.

Liliana was aware of a faint knock on the door but not of anyone entering. She was anchored to the spot and not even the sight of Lucetta entering with a tray of tea and food could snap her back to reality.

"Signora?" Lucetta spoke her, her lips turned down at the corners as she stooped to her knees, hands outstretched without hesitation to help salvage the fallen items. Except, Liliana would rather Lucetta never involve herself. Their daily conversations were not enough to guarantee Lucetta's loyalties; she was still an employee to her husband and of this Marcello could not be told.

"No, please," Liliana pleaded, coming to her sense too late as Lucetta's horror filled the room in the form of a startled gasp.

"Signora D'Onofrio," Lucetta's voice wavered. Lucetta couldn't seem to keep her grasp on the photographs for longer than a few seconds and once again they fell to the floor. The image of Liliana's mother's wide, lifeless eyes, and the pool of blood that surrounded her, were firmly burned into her mind.

Liliana was going to be sick again.

***

Marcello had been waiting impatiently for his family to return, and when he heard the sound of the front door opening he was quick to his feet, asking about Liliana before a greeting could leave anyone's mouth.

It was Liliana who spoke first, assuring him she was fine, she was to be on bed rest for a few days, she was tired and going to sleep in their room. He didn't get much more out of her before she disappeared, but his brother's backed up the information. The doctor had ordered her to be on bed rest and he'd taken some blood samples to do some routine checks to make sure she was in good health in every aspect - just as Mercello had requested. Still, Liliana had seemed off, she had avoided his eyes when speaking and seemed anxious in his presence.

Now it was late into the evening and she still hadn't emerged. Lucetta had been sent to check on her regularly and each time he was told Liliana was still sleeping. He didn't bother to disturb her when she clearly needed so much rest but he felt restless and unsettled. He wanted to talk to her about the attack, find the bastard that did this to her.

"I heard my nipotina was hurt," the low voice of Alessandro Barbato filled the room. Mercello's jaw clenched and he quickly pocketed his mobile before standing to his feet and sending a brief glare over at the ancient man in the doorway.

"Of course you did," Marcello huffed with a scowl. He gestured to the couch, "I suppose you'd like a seat? She isn't your granddaughter but just how did you hear that?"

"Sophia." He offered a smug smile, the wrinkles in his skin accentuating in his laugh lines, as he sank slowly into the cushioned chair and Mercello was surprised that no guards had followed Alessandro into the house. "Those two text quite often I'm told. It's good that you don't mind their friendship, despite your families history with my niece. I assumed Giovanni would have some objections but perhaps the boys growing."

"Why are you here?" Marcello sighed, giving up on pretences and slouching in his chair, a forefinger and thumb pressing into the bridge of his nose. He didn't have the time or energy to entertain nuisance guests.

"I told you, I was concerned for your wife. I heard about the break in." Alessandra waved a hand, and moved to remove the thick scarf from around his neck. "It's not a surprise really, I managed to walk in here without so much as a second glance."

"You're staying a while I suppose?" Marcello grumbled and stood, moving slowly towards the corner of the room. "Drink?"

Without waiting for a response, he poured Alessandro one anyway. For himself, his first drink didn't even make it to his seat as he threw it back in one. As he made his return, two glasses in hand, he finally responded, "You've been given the clear to come and go as you please."

"I suppose I have Liliana to thank for that?" Alessandro assumed as he took the glass from Marcello's hand. Marcello huffed and relaxed back into his favourite chair, the one Liliana usually took to as of late.

"No, actually, I figured with our family history and your reputation it would be less hassle than having you harass my security for half an hour each week. You've known my father for years and had plenty more motivation to strike in the past, I don't think I have anything to fear from you right now."

"You're a lot more welcoming than previously," the old man mused over the rim of his glass, taking a long sip of the expensive whisky.

"Well my wife isn't being harassed by her father, and frankly I'm too tired to argue with you right now. I've been told everything by my father, he's revealed all he's lied to me about my mother and I don't see reason to hold onto the hatred that's been ingrained into me from childhood. It's ridiculous. I'm not going to participate in the same war as you and my father. I'm not involved and I don't want to be."

Marcello's fingers drummed against the worn leather of the arm chair. He was bored of this conversation and counting the minutes until he could escape and check on Liliana. Lucetta had left for her home hours ago, so no one had checked on his wife since.

"Wise words," Alessandro chuckled. "Perhaps my grandson isn't such a rotten child after all."

Marcello said nothing but shot Alessandro a filthy glare.

"Have you caught the man who hurt her?" Alessandro queried after another sip of his drink. It became clear to Marcello that Sophia had not been informed of everything that had occurred the night before, and it was of no surprise to Marcello that Liliana had kept the death to herself. She had seemed horrified by the blood, and Marcello feared that guilt was to blame.

"Considering he was dead as can be when we found her, yes. Jason Ramirez. No ties to anyone that we know of." Alessandro didn't say anything and the silence was far too suffocating for Marcello. "I don't know what I'm going to do," he confessed in a defeated tone. He drained the rest of his glass, welcoming the familiar burn at the back of his throat.

"Are we done here?" Marcello asked tersely, and levelled Alessandro with a heavy stare.

When Marcello finally made his way to his bedroom, he found Liliana asleep, and turned away from his side of the bed, to face the wall away from the door. Her hair was tied up and her neck was on show. A ghostly mark of a hand could be seen wrapping around her throat, the ugly forming bruises so clearly visible even in the low light of the room. It had darkened over the course of the day which perhaps explained why she had been so quiet. Each word had to have pained her.

At least she was able to rest, unlike Marcello.



Q. What do you think happened to Liliana's mother?