[RE-WRITTEN]

Liliana didn't know how long she laid in bed unable to sleep, but from the gap in the curtains she could see the sky still engulfed in darkness. Beside her, Marcello slept peacefully, rolled onto his side, his hand stretched out and tucked by her waist. The bedsheets had slipped down past his chest, folded low on his hips and Liliana had to force her eyes not to linger on the exposed contours of his torso. With careful movements, she eased out of the bed, trying her best not to wake Marcello as she snuck out of the bedroom for a glass of water.

It seemed she was not the only one to still be awake at this ridiculous hour, as she noticed the light in the kitchen seeping out into the hallway. Suspecting it was her aunt also unable to sleep, Liliana was surprised to find Marco hunched over the counter, sat on one of the bar stools, drinking what she suspected was a large mug of coffee.

"What are you doing up?" Marco's low, grumbled voice greeted her, barely glancing up from his screen.

"I could ask you the same thing," Liliana retorted, walking straight past him to pour herself a glass of water. "I couldn't sleep."

She turned and leant against the counter as she sipped at the water, eyeing his set up. There were papers scattered across the desk and Liliana noticed his phone face down on the counter, buzzing away with notifications. Marco didn't glance at it, and ignore the raised brow and pointed look she gave him.

"I have work to do," was all he said. His thick, chestnut hair was dishevelled and Liliana knew he had been running his hands through it, as he so often did whenever he was tired and frustrated. She had noticed Marcello often did the same thing.

Liliana nodded, taking a seat opposite him on the kitchen island, asking, "Do you have time to talk?"

She wasn't prepared for him to say no, and she wouldn't accept it as an answer. The entire reason she had asked Marcello to schedule this trip was so she could ask her family - Marco in particular - more about their families history. She would much prefer to interrogate him now while they were alone.

Marco only arched a brow and took a long sip of his coffee, so Liliana took that as an affirmation.

"I met Anton; just before we travelled here, Marcello and I had dinner with him," Liliana began, watching her cousin for any reaction. There was none. "He told me somethings about my mother, and Gabriella."

Well, he had told Marcello, and Marcello had told her.

"I see," Marco mused. "And is it Anton Ansari or Gabriella D'Onofrio you wish to talk about."

Liliana didn't trust this cool demeanour of his. He was putting up a wall between them, guarding his emotions so as not to give anything away. But what was it that he felt the need to hide from her?

"I believe I may know all I want to about Gabriella. She drove my mama to suicide while her and Antonio fucked each other," she explained crudely.

Marco's sharp inhale was instantaneous. "Anton told you that?"

Standing abruptly to his feet, Marco gulped back the rest of his coffee and stalked towards the sink. He kept his back to her, silent, while he awaited her response.

"My father," she corrected, her fingers tapping against the side of her glass, eyes narrowing as she allowed her cousin to interrogate her. "Anton told me about Gabriella's taunts and letters, that I suspect are what further encouraged my mother to her end. But my father is the one that finally told me the truth of how she died. But only after I confronted him about it."

"He told you she killed herself?"

"Didn't she?" Liliana asked, voice dangerously low. His question hinted at a truth that made her stomach drop, and coil into a tight ball of anxiety that had a queasiness rising in the back of her throat.

A heavy silence settled in the kitchen, and Liliana was almost convinced that Marco was completely frozen in the spot, unable to speak. Until his hand lashed out and the mug he had been holding slammed into the metal of the sink. She heard the porcelain smash, and the pieces clattering.

No longer was Marco the older, reserved cousin she knew so well, but instead a fierce mafioso as prone to violence and anger as the rest of them. This was a side of him she rarely saw.

"Do you still speak to him?" He snarled, spinning to pin her with a fierce, narrow eyed stare.

"Anton or my father?"

"The latter," he spat, as if he couldn't bare to allow the filth of her fathers name to pass from his lips.

"No." Liliana was firm, and she did not shy away from her cousins intimidating bullshit. "Care to clue me in on what has you so riled?" She noticed the blood on Marco's hand, and the drops that rolled down the length of his wrist and fell to stain the white tiled floor.

He didn't reply, and didn't so much as look at his bleeding hand. Sighing, Liliana dragged herself from the bar stool towards one of the kitchen cupboards, where she knew her aunt kept the first aid kit.

"I thought you could handle yourself better than this," Liliana grumbled, handing an antiseptic wipe towards him. Marco scowled as he accepted it, cleaning himself up without a word; the only evidence of his pain was the wince he gave when cleaning the wound.

"Everyone's subject to their emotions Liliana, I'm not exempt from that rule."

"But what incited such a violent reaction?" She fixed him with a pointed stare, lips pursed as she handing him the bandage wrap for his hand. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "What is it that's so infuriating and yet you don't want to tell me, and has you avoiding my gaze?"

Sighing deeply, he conceded, "Give me time to... confirm things... then I'll explain."

"And you can't tell me your theories now?" Liliana murmured, schooling her expression as she packed away the first aid box. The queasiness in her gut didn't ease. His silence now was all but a confirmation of what she feared.

"It's not... pleasant what I want to tell you. I'd rather know the facts before I cause you any distress."

"Right." Liliana helped her cugino fix the bandage in place and then clicked closed the first aid box, putting it away in silence. Marco returned to his seat at the kitchen island just as she was closing the cupboard door and moving to refill her glass at the sink - which was still full of the broken pieces of Marco's mug and specks of diluted blood. She drained the glass where she stood, rinsing it out and placing it on the side to dry. She would leave the mess for Marco to clear.

She sighed to herself deeply, glancing at Marco with a frown before heading towards the door. If she stayed awake any longer she would be too tired to function come the morning. Just as she reached the doorway however, the sound of Marco's voice had her pausing.

"I met Anton when I was twenty-two. He was nineteen. We," he paused. Liliana turned to see his head stooped. "We started dating a year later."

It seemed obvious, the connection between Anton and Marco, now that he had said it. Suddenly Anton's distaste at her families name was understood. It was the response to a breakup, not bad blood born from two rivalling families. Still, she would not have guessed such a revelation.

For someone of his position, in their culture, his sexuality would not be something so easily accepted. She wondered just how many people knew of their relationship, knowing it would not be many at all. The fact that he was willing to share this with her now, surprised her greatly.

"We were together for two years before I ended it."

"And you're no longer on good terms?"

"I'd be surprised if we ever spoke again." From the heavy tone of his voice, and the clenching of his jaw, she knew the conversation was now over. She wouldn't pry any further into such a delicate subject; she did not wish to risk him refraining from telling her anything again in the future.

Liliana quickly and quietly returned to her room, finding Marcello still asleep in their bed. Despite how carefully she tried to crawl back under the sheets, she still managed to disturb Marcello. He turned towards her, a soft mumble of garbled words on his lips as his arm reached out to curve around he waist. Liliana stilled for a second, then sank into the warmth that was his embrace.

***

The next time Liliana awoke, in the early hours of the morning, it was to the feeling of her stomach churning and a sour taste staining her tongue. Liliana scrambled out of the bed, her movement indelicate and loud as she dashed towards the adjoining bathroom.

It was as she was on her knees, hunched over the toilet, in the middle of vomiting what was left of last nights meal into the toilet, that she felt Marcello's presence beside her. His hands brushed back the lose strands of her hair that had fallen free from her hair-tie during the night.

When she was done, and was able to roll back into a sitting position, still slumped over the toilet sit, Marcello's worried face came into her line of sight. He cupped one of her cheeks with one hand, tucking her hair behind her ear with the other.

"Are you okay?"

Liliana nodded her head, not finding the strength to open her mouth and speak, worrying that if she did she would vomit again.

"The food from the café?" Marcello asked with a frown.

Again, all she could do was nod.

After that bout of sickness, Marcello stood with her while she brushed her teeth and led her back to the bed, as if he thought she were about to collapse at any second. She found it difficult to fall back asleep, and when morning eventually arrived, and Marcello had disappeared to exercise, Liliana was staring blearily into the mirror of her vanity, struggling to prepare herself for the day.

Her aunt greeted her in her bedroom, knocking lightly before stepping into the room without waiting for a response in return. Which was just as well considering how long it took Liliana to shake herself from the daze that had fallen upon her. She was part way through combing her hair but had instead been sat staring at the dark bags beneath her eyes, still have asleep.

"Marcello told me you had been sick this morning," her aunt said, lips pressed together flatly. "Where is he?"

"He's gone for a morning run, why?" Her words were monotonous, focus attached to her own reflection as one hand prodded at the dark circles staining underneath her eyes until she heard a light thud against the table beside her. Liliana glanced quickly and away again, but found her eyes darting back instantly to the small rectangular box. The lip-gloss Liliana had clutched between her fingertips clattered and rolled against the table-top.

"What is this?" Liliana asked sharply. The small rectangular box stared up at her accusatorily.

"I think it's best we check, rather than denying all possibility." Her aunt could have screamed the words at her and they would have held no more weight, no more power than they already did. That word, possibility; there was a possibility that her young life was over as she knew it. Already she had been forced to mature beyond her years, and another test was still being thrown her way.

"What is there to know? It's not- I'm not-" Lips trembled, refusing to acknowledge Adelina's words as truth.

"Liliana, just humor me, please."

"I am not pregnant," Liliana snapped sternly. "This is just the result of some bad food. I haven't missed a period, and there aren't any other symptoms."

She had never even thought of the possibility. It had only been just over three weeks since Marcello and she had slept together and there was no reason to suspect anything was wrong.

"You've been awfully tired lately, and well, I don't know much about your relationship with Marcello, but..."

"We have," Liliana confirmed in a sullen tone, before Adelina could say any more.

"I could be nothing, it could be absolutely nothing," her aunt assured, winding an arm around her as she guided Liliana to her feet and towards the bathroom. There was a tightness in Liliana's chest and a prick of tears in her eyes. She allowed herself to be lead by her aunt, like a lost little lamb on unsteady legs. She didn't have the energy or the strength to do much else. Again Adelina repeated, "It could be nothing."

Was it not impossible to know so soon? How would the tests even be accurate? Liliana was tired, sure, but she had barely been sleeping. She had thrown up, but that was surely due to what she had eaten the day before? Her breasts were tender, but that was to be expected; her period was due any day now.

The bathroom door behind them clicked shut and Adelina perched on the edge of the bathtub, leaving Liliana to stand in the middle of the bathroom with her arms wrapped tight around herself.

"I- I can't, not while you're watching." A heavy rush of heat bloomed across Liliana's face, as she stared at her aunt with damp eyes.

"Do you want me to stand outside?" Adelina was already on her feet again, one step towards the door.

"No, please stay, just, uh, can you turn around or, look at the floor." Liliana was fiddling with the cardboard box, fingers deftly opening it, crumpling and ripping at the edges with her impatience to have this mortifying experience over with.

The sting of embarrassment burned her eyes, but not because she was afraid to pee in front of her aunt, more so for what she was peeing on. She would foolish to believe that this wouldn't occur eventually, but so soon? While she was so young?

"I can't look," Liliana exclaimed five minutes later, teeth sinking into her lower lip, bruising the flesh. A minor inconvenience compared to the pain she was sure to suffer if what she, and her aunt, feared was true.

"Do you want me-"

"Yes." Stalking out of the bathroom, Liliana slumped on the edge of her aunt's, leaving her aunt in the bathroom with the outcome of her future.

***

"Are you okay?" Federico grabbed Liliana by the shoulders as she stalked towards the kitchen, holding her to a stop a foot in front of him as he inspected the puffiness of her face and the red tinge to her eyes. He was frowning at her, eyes moving slowly across her face. "You look like you've been crying."

"I'm fine," Liliana assured, though the hoarse sound of her voice contradicted her. She'd been sobbing in her bedroom for an hour now; her aunt had been beside her for most of it, holding her tightly and muttering words of comfort in her ear in an attempt to calm her down. Had Liliana been alone, she was sure she would still be in her bedroom on the verge of a panic attack. "I'm just had an emotional morning with Zia."

Liliana kept her gaze steady, meeting his eyes with a strained smile on her lips. She didn't want to give him any more cause for concern, not until things were confirmed.

"Liliana..."

"I said I'm fine, Fede." She was exhausted from the crying, her patience and temper wearing thin, and spoke with a little too much force. Federico was ready to meet her fury, as was typical of her hot tempered cousin. He released her from his hold, stepping back to examine her with a narrow eyed glare. She saw his hands clench into fists at his side, and the tick in his jaw.

Oh he was itching for a fight; as all her cousins were these past few days.

"What did he do to you? I'm gonna' kill him," he growled through clenched teeth. He was jumping to conclusions, which was no surprise to Liliana. Her cousins had been waiting for an excuse to attack Marcello since they had arrived. She knew Marcello would fight back though, knew without doubt he would defend himself and things would get ugly between them all. Not to mention she really didn't want Marcello to suspect anything just yet.

She sighed, eyes closing as she gritted her teeth, burying her own irritation. She needed to remain calm and gain control of this before things escalated. "No, look, really I'm fine. Please leave it alone Fede," she uttered through her teeth. "You can ask your mama, I'm fine."

"Don't protect the asshole Lili, if he laid one hand on you, I'll-" Federico cut himself off with a string of curses. Liliana was begging for him to calm down but he wasn't listening to a word.

This wasn't just about the prospect of Marcello harming Liliana. She knew Federico was too young to act when his father was still alive and abusing their mother, but he was seventeen now and if he truly believed Marcello had hurt her, he would act.

"Fede, I promise you, Mercello would never lay a hand on me." But her words fell on death ears and her cousin was already storming away from her in search of her husband. "Fed! Stop!"

Stupid, stupid boy!

Her cousin's long legs ate up at the distance quickly. If her words wouldn't stop him then she was going to have to stop him in a much more direct way. Acting on her own panic, Liliana leaped into Federico and sent them both crashing against the wall of the hallway.

"Liliana what the hell!" He snapped, as if her actions were unprompted and unjustified.

"Marcello hasn't hurt me!" Liliana explained, irritated. "What is in your past is not my present, whatever issues you have are yours to figure out. Don't drag me and my marriage into them. Now please, leave Marcello alone. What has he done to you all that makes you all so eager for a fight?"

"He took you from us Liliana."

Liliana sighed. Federico sounded so broken, so helpless. Liliana reached out to hold his hand, squeezing his fingers in hers. Is that really what he thought? Is that what they all thought?

"He didn't take me Fed," she spoke softly. "My father gave me to him. Marcello isn't the villain here, and he shouldn't be treated as such."

Whatever had happened between them, had nothing to do with her cousins. She would not dredge up the issues of her marriage with them, they were to remain private. She wouldn't allow them to interfere; not when things were shifting between her and Marcello.

Her cousin had enough sense to look guilty, though he continued, "Yet I know what kind of a man he is, and I worry for your safety in his care. He's not a forgiving or patient man Liliana. Nor is he known to be kind."

"He wouldn't hurt me." Liliana was absolute in her statement. "Please just think about what I've said. Now if you excuse me I - I need to go meet with someone. I'll be back later." Liliana leaned onto her toes and kissed Federico's cheek in goodbye, offering him a solemn smile before she headed for the front door.

***

Half an hour later, Liliana was slouched in a deep seated, carved wooden arm chair, sinking into the plush silk cushion propped behind her back. Her hands were wrapped tightly around a dainty teacup, fingers clenched so tight they were near breaking the thin porcelain. Her company for the afternoon was sat silently across from her, from the other side of the wooden table. The hotel room was vast, and furnished well enough to suit a Lord, but Liliana didn't care to look around, she could barely think to drink the cooling drink in her hands. Instead her sights were concentrated on the white porcelain decorated gold, the steam that arose from her tea, and the solid silver band wrapped around her finger.

Liliana had travelled here without Marcello or her cousins, desperately needing some privacy right now. As a result she had been escorted by someone of her aunt's guards. The men were now stood outside the room as Liliana had not allowed them to follow them in, despite their protests. She would not allow anyone else to here of what she was about to discuss.

Liliana's cheeks were wet, but she couldn't recall when exactly she had began crying once again. She'd been here nearly ten minutes now and hadn't uttered a word, and now, as she spoke, her voice cracked horrendously under the overwhelming emotion.

"I can't do this," Liliana stuttered through her tears. Her hands were quivering as she lifted the cup up to her mouth, gulping back half her tea. She looked up at Barbato through blurry vision. "I'm only nineteen, I can't have a child. I can't look after myself, let alone another person."

"Is it certain?" he asked, lips pursed as he kept his expression neutral.

"I took two tests. One was negative, one was positive. So I have absolutely no idea if I am pregnant or, not until I take a proper test. I took them this morning though; I haven't had time to do much else but cry over the possibility."

"I see," Barbato murmured thoughtfully, taking a long sip of his own tea.

When another prolonged silence settled between them, Liliana cleared her throat and, while scowling down at her lap, uttered, "I know about both of them; about Adreana and my mother. I know how they both died under the supposed care of their mafioso counterparts."

Barbato said nothing, but released a heavy sigh. A glance upwards confirmed the frown now tugging at his features. Despite all the new coverage, and the dastardly rumours that were tied to his name, he was still a man; a man that still grieved for his daughter.

"They were so young," Liliana stated with a thickness that wouldn't leave her voice. "I feel like my future is already set out before me and I'm just waiting for it all to hit me. Like I'm waiting to break until I can't be fixed and then I'll be gone just like my mother, just like Adreana."

"Adreana was ill, though the situation wasn't the best and I will forever despite Sebastiano, the blame for what happened to my daughter can't be placed solely on him. Perhaps had she lived free from this life she would still be alive today, perhaps not, no one can say with any degree of certainty. Your mother... well your mother's case was different entirely." Barbato's voice was soft, if not a little weak. But as old as he was, he was honest.

Yes, her mother's death was certainly different and the sole blame could be placed on her father; of whom she hadn't seen since their last confrontation.

"All you men, with your big ego's and internal biases," she spat, the merqqe thought of her father proving to be overwhelming. "You don't realise how much power you have over us." She shook her head, fingers gripping and sinking into the soft flesh of her leg, holding tighter with every passing second. She began speaking of Mercello but Antonio was still on her mind. "It shouldn't be that way and I hate it. He can live his life how he pleases and I am expected to still be there, always there, saddled with a child while I'm still one myself. We were progressing but now the situation has changed. What if he recedes to how things were before? How can I raise a child with him?"

Her questions hung in the air, thickened and weighed heavy by Barbato's silence. The man had no advice to offer, no wise words to calm her spirits. She didn't know what she had expected but she wished he would says something.

"She suffocated in the same binds I did. She was darkened by these constraints, under the shadow of such a big man, disrespected and undervalued until it all grew too much. Until there was no oxygen left to breathe and I was left without a mother. And yet he lied, buried his guilt and hid his crimes beneath an act. Is that what my life will become? My child forced to grow without me?"

"You think Marcello and your father are the same?"

"They hold different values and have had different upbringings, and while their actions differ, this restraint is still the same. Marcello is not my father and I don't believe he ever will be, but that doesn't change the weight of this responsibility, and how overwhelming I already find it to be."

"You said things had changed since your time apart," Barbato broached.

Liliana was breathless. Things had changed between her and Marcello. That was a fact that she could not ignore. He was softer with her now, more attentive and he listened, but would their progress reverse with the news? He had offered her freedom, however impossible that was, would that offer rescind at the news of a child?

"Yes," she bit out. "I - how do I know if it's enough? How can I take the risk?"

"How will you ever know if it's enough if you don't take the risk?"

"I can't say I haven't come to care for him in some ways. But we're both stubborn and headstrong, and more than anything I'm worried that will change come a pregnancy. What if I cannot bear it, what if I lose myself in it?"

"From what little I have seen of my nipote, he is awfully protective of you and your wellbeing. I believe he cares for you more than you think. You're an outspoken young woman who never fails to speak her mind, even when it could endanger her," Barbato said, looking at her pointedly. "Marcello is an observant man, more so than Sebastiano, and I believe believe without a doubt that Marcello will be there to support you through any darkness. If the two of you stop fighting one another, I believe you could forge something strong, something formidable, that will have anyone think twice before crossing you."

Liliana was surprised by Barbato's observations; then again, he was a man that seemingly knew everything, so this should not have come as a surprise at all. Liliana didn't doubt that Barbato knew far more of his grandson than Marcello realised.

"I just -" Liliana groaned tearfully, frustrated with herself and the situation. "What do I do now?"

Liliana had never felt more like a child, crying to Barbato asking for advice. He was a dangerous man, and if her experience with her own family taught her anything, he should not be trusted; and yet here she was confessing all of her secrets to him as if she were a silly teen girl unable to keep anything to herself.

"You need to confirm this, and if you are pregnant, you need to decide if you can trust in Marcello to be the support you need, and you need to tell him - the sooner the better."

Liliana's chest ached. "If I tell him, I fear any choice I have in the matter will disappear," her voice cracked with the confession.

"Then I advise you to decide before he realises. My grandson may act idiotic at times, but he is intelligent."

They were both silent while Liliana finished the rest of her drink, mulling over her thoughts as her tears dried on her cheeks.

"Why are you in Italy?" Her tone was far from malicious, but Liliana was sure that Barbato knew the intent of her question. It was suspicious that he was here a day after she and Marcello had arrived, but what reason did he have to follow them out of the country? She knew a man like Barbato could never be fully truthful, he would always have his secrets, but Liliana needed to know if his kindness towards her had an ulterior motive, or if he really did wish to reconnect with his family as she suspected.

"Can an old man not vacate to his home country, after being imprisoned for so long?" Liliana had never once asked what it had been like to be locked up for so many decades. She wouldn't dare. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.

"Marcello will want to talk to you."

"Good, I'm beginning to enjoy our conversations, when he's not being his usual rotten self," he joked. There was a small smile on his thin lips as he leaned further into the back of his magnificently carved chair. He seemed in unusually good spirits at the mention of his grandson. Perhaps to Barbato, the news of a possible great-grandchild was something pleasant.

"And you won't tell him about our conversations? That I might be pregnant?"

"It's not my place to tell. Besides, I think it best come from you."

***

Marcello had been waiting impatiently for his wife ever since he had returned from his run to find her absent. When she did, Liliana was quiet and reserved and would barely meet his eyes. Even her idiotic cousin, Federico, had been eyeing her warily as if he knew something to be wrong.

It drove him mad to stay quiet, to not force an explanation from her. He had seen her like this before, after their wedding, after too long locked in the manor. She was distancing herself, loosing her fight and he was terrified. After their conversation yesterday, she had assured him nothing was wrong; but that was not apparent in her now.

He didn't want to push her for information, he knew that he had to wait for her to confide in him and that he could not force the trust building between them. Yet he hated it.



Q. Yay or Nay on the pregnancy?