[RE-WRITTEN]

Liliana cradled her husbands head to her stomach. She felt sick, and was deeply aware of how badly her hands were shaking as she threaded them again and again into Marcello's thick, dark hair. He still hadn't spoke, and as much as she wanted to shake him by the shoulders until he did so, she knew he needed time to collect himself. Too much had happened in such a short space of time, and understandably he was now overwhelmed.

He had been crying, and her still bloodied vest was damp where his cheek pressed against her. She couldn't force him into a discussion so soon when she knew he had so much to process. She had known of her pregnancy for two days. Mercello was facing the loss of a family member, the pain of a serious wound, and the news that he was to become a father all at once. He needed time to compose himself.

Still, Liliana knew time was not on their side. Marcello had to return home, to America, as soon as possible. He was in desperate need of medical attention, whether he agreed with that statement or not. While Marcello seemed unbothered by his own health, Liliana was rightfully terrified. Should something happen to Marcello, Liliana didn't know what she would do.

After minutes of silence, Marcello finally pulled away from her embrace. He leant back into the sofa, his eyes tinged red and his tanned face flushed. He seemed somewhat disorientated as he blinked blearily up at her, his eyes and cheeks still damp with tears. Marcello made no move to hide them from her.

"Are you okay?" Liliana managed to ask, her voice catching. She dreaded his answer, dreaded to know what he truly thought of this revelation, despite how desperately she needed to know. They had never discussed children. Liliana had never really even thought of children, of being a mother. With their family history, neither she nor Marcello had any sense of functional parental role models. Now, knowing she was pregnant, she had still not processed the news properly. She had spent the past few days fearing Marcello's reaction, unable to think of much else.

Marcello nodded curtly, but said nothing.

Biting her bottom lip, Liliana awkwardly wrapped her arms around herself as she stood under his heavy gaze. His eyes dragged up and down her blood stained body, falling to stop on her stomach. The intensity of his gaze had her shuffling on thee spot.

"We didn't use protection," Mercello whispered, perhaps talking to himself. Liliana nodded anyway. His wide eyes shot to hers. "How did you find out so quickly?"

Lilian shifted again on her feet, eyes narrowing slightly at Marcello's question. It had happened quickly; they had barely been married for two months now, and she was barely even a month pregnant. "It's been just over three weeks. My aunt had me take a test after I threw up. I confirmed it with the Dr. Candido the next day."

"Back at the manor," he sighed in realisation, running a hand roughly across his face in what she perceived as irritation. "When we'd been drinking."

"I'd had two glasses with a three course meal," Liliana scoffed. "I wasn't drunk by any means."

"Regardless, we were hardly on good terms with one another. We'd spent the entire dinner arguing."

"I won't lie," Liliana began quietly, her arms tightening around her. "I can't I held much affection for you back then. I think we can both agree our marriage began with a rough start, but I slept with you that night because I wanted to. There's nothing more to it."

"We've both been really stupid," she muttered, pausing to take a deep breath before asking, "When was the last time you were checked?"

"Checked?" Marcello sat foreword suddenly, grimacing at the movement, and Liliana had to stop herself from snapping at him for hurting himself.

"Are you clean?" She elaborated instead, and waved her hand towards his lap, "I don't want to have caught anything. We didn't use any condoms." She groaned slightly under her breath. "We should have had this conversation so long ago."

They had been so unbelievably stupid. They had never discussed their sexual history before and she had no inkling as to what Marcello's past with women was.

Mercello scowled, wincing again as he moved too quickly to sit back straighter, as if recoiling from her question, "You think I'm going to give my own wife an STD?" His hands were clenched at his sides.

Was it terrible that she found his irritation far easier to deal with than his tears? She knew Marcello hated to show any fraction of vulnerability in public; he was a stoic man that remained impassive and subdued in all public settings, only revealing any hint of emotion when his anger rose to the forefront. When he was crying with her, even if they were alone, she didn't know what more she could do than offer small moments of comfort and wait for him to gather himself once again.

"I'm just checking." Liliana rolled her eyes, not at all phased by his sharp tone. "These are the kinds of normal conversations people have before having sex. I'm not accusing you of anything. I trust you. I just have to be certain."

"I'm clean," Marcello scoffed. He patted the couch cushion next to him. "Come here."

She sat down next to him slowly, careful not sit too close in case she hurt him. Marcello noticed her hesitation and seemed more irritated it. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his chest.

"Marcello!" She snapped, her hand falling to his thigh for support as she jolted against him. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I'm fine," he urged, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. "I just want to sit with you."

Her chest tightened at the small declaration, shifting until she could comfortably rest against him without fear of pressing on his wound. Half turned into him, with her face pressed against his bare chest, she listened to the quiet beating of his racing heart.

After the panic they had endured today, it was so comforting to simply be held and to assure herself that they were both still here. Marcello may be injured, but he was still alive.

"How are you feeling?" He murmured into her hair. She had tied back the tangled mess while the doctor had been here.

"How am I feeling?" she asked incredulously. She wasn't the one with a bullet wound; how she felt hardly mattered. She wanted to know how Marcello was feeling, in light of his grandfather's death and of her pregnancy. Then, as if that were not enough, he must have been in so much pain from his injuries - yet he had not uttered one complaint. She knew with his line of work, it was likely he had faced injuries of such severity before, but that did not mean he was immune to such pain now.

"About the pregnancy. Are you angry?" Marcello clarified. Liliana turned to glance up at him but he wouldn't face her. His eyes were trained on the floor beside them and his arm was tense around her. She hated that they had to have this conversation now, that Marcello seemed so concerned with her pregnancy and not with himself.

"I'm not angry," she assured, "I don't know how I feel but I'm not angry, not with you. This is my fault as much as it is yours. Neither of us are solely to blame."

"I'm twenty-four, I should have known better. Instead I acted like a idiotic teenager who couldn't wait to get his pants off." He was scowling, still avoiding her gaze.

"I'm nineteen Marcello. I'm younger, but I'm not a child. I understand how sex works and I'm just as responsible as you. We're not going to play the blame game here."

A lull of silence hung between them, and Marcello's irritated expression didn't ease.

"Did you think I was on birth control?" She thought to ask. Not that his answer mattered. She wasn't and whatever misunderstanding had occurred wouldn't change the fact that she was now pregnant.

"I didn't think."

He clenched his eyes shut with his head hung down in defeat. Liliana rubbed a soothing hand against the top of his back, not sure of what she should say. He sighed against her, the tension in his body lessoning.

"Alessandro," he breathed, finally addressing the horrible topic. "I cant..."

Just the name had Liliana holding back a flinch. She was devastated by the loss. Somehow, in the short two and a half weeks that she had known the old man, he had wormed his way into earning her trust and love. He had been there for her when she felt no one else had. She couldn't imagine how Mercello felt about his grandfather's death. He hadn't known the man any longer than she, and Mercello was far more reserved than Liliana, but she knew that Barbato's presence in his life meant far more to him.

"How are you feeling?" she spoke softly, watching the miserable frown grow on his face. He shrugged and the action, so simple and clueless, made him appear much younger than he was.

"How am I supposed to feel? This isn't the first time someone has died. I'm well acquainted with death."

"But this wasn't just a death," she stressed. Barbato could not be compared to just another of his men. Barbato was his last link to his deceased mother, he was the only hope he'd had at a healthy paternal figure.

Marcello shrugged again, this time only one shoulder barely raising, "I'm still not even sure if I could trust him. We hardly had a strong relationship; I barely knew him." Liliana was not satisfied with his answer. She suspected he was acting tough, whether to spare his own image or to calm her worries she wasn't sure.

"He knew," Liliana swallowed, "I had told him about the pregnancy and he seemed pleased."

She pulled back from his embrace, bringing her hands together in a knot of clenched fingers. She didn't avert her gaze though, watching her husband careful, as she bit her lip and waited for a response.

"Who else knew?" There was no accusatory aspect to his tone, just curiosity. Liliana released a breath she didn't realise she was holding.

"Adelina was that came to me with her suspicions. She booked me the appointment with her doctor." Liliana wet her lips, pausing when Marcello hummed but said nothing. "At first I wasn't sure if I was pregnant. I took some home tests with my aunt; one was negative and one was positive. I was upset, and Barbato reached out to me soon after. I hadn't planned on telling him, but he was there, and I needed someone to talk to."

"And that couldn't have been me?" Liliana blinked up at him, feeling her heart stutter at the simple question. It could have been. But she hadn't felt that to be a choice she could have made at the time.

"I wanted to be sure first, before I told you. I had hoped that the test was wrong. I was going to do it before we left Italy, I was just waiting for a right time."

"You're upset... Upset about being pregnant." He was acting so calm, so reserved, giving no indication of what he was thinking. She wanted to scream at him, she wanted - needed - to know what he thought of the situation.

"I don't think I can handle a pregnancy or handle being a mother so young, and I don't think our life is safe for a child. I knew this would happen some day, I just never thought it would happen so soon." Liliana sat up. "You look concerned."

"I'm just worried about you." Again, no indication of his feelings towards the pregnancy.

"Because of your mother?" Liliana broached, holding her breath as she awaited his answer, hoping she hadn't overstepped her boundaries. They rarely talked about his mother and she knew it was a sensitive subject for Marcello, just as it was for Liliana.

He nodded slightly, expression tight. "And because of today. I don't want our relationship to backtrack, I know I can't force you into things, but you're going to have to be careful. I want you to stay inside more and invite Sophia to you instead of leaving the manor to see her."

"And what about you? Are you going to stay inside?" Narrow eyes pierced her husband's tired gaze.

Marcello sighed, "Please don't argue with me right now."

"I'm not," Liliana assured, cupping his jaw to turn his face towards hers when he looked away. What he was asking of her was completely reasonable given the circumstance. Now that she understood the threats against her, she understood the importance of staying within the manor or with people who could keep her safe. "I agree with you about laying low, but if you're allowed to be worried about me then I can be worried about you. You've been shot Marcello, I don't want you putting yourself back in danger straight away. You need to stay home and rest so you can recover."

Marcello's fierce scowl eased. He had expected her to disagree with him, that much was clear.

"Okay," he conceded, though his tone suggested he was anything but pleased. "We'll talk about this later."

Liliana nodded, smiling faintly.

Progress. They were making progress.

She didn't realised before just how good it could feel to speak so openly with Marcello. Suddenly actions and words that could be misconstrued were so clearly born out of concern for her well being. If only they had spoken more clearly to one another since the beginning. But they had had both been angry; angry with the situation they had been forced into, and angry at one another for their disruption into each other's lives.

"Thank you," Marcello uttered, mirroring her smile.

Liliana couldn't deny how utterly attractive he appeared in that moment. Marcello could be charming if he tried. With a smile like that, it was a wonder he had never been in a relationship with anyone before her. His lack of romantic history had been a fact Angelo had all too gleefully shared with her in those first few weeks of marriage.

"What are you thanking me for?"

"For being here with me," he explained earnestly, "for not walking away when I know you wanted to. For trusting in me enough to know I could change." It was his honesty and willingness to express vulnerability that all but cleaved her chest in two.

"I want to be here with you, and work through this. I have hope that things will get better," she confessed quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't want to leave."

Liliana leant foreword and pressed her lips against his in a short kiss. When she pulled away, Marcello exhaled deeply, and rested his head back against the sofa.

"We'll have to leave Italy today," he mumbled. His hand reached for hers. "I'm sorry we have to cut your time with your family short."

"It's fine-" The door to the lounge opened, and Liliana cut herself off as she turned to see Gavino stepping into the room. His eyes darted between Liliana and Marcello leant against one another on the sofa.

"Marco's arranged for his private plane to take you back home whenever you're ready, so you can get everything," he waved his hand in the general direction of Marcello, "sorted by your doctor."

Liliana offered Gavino a tight smile, turning to Marcello for his response. The clear sense of relief and gratitude in his expression was surprising.

"Thanks," he uttered with a nod, again with surprising civility. He turned towards her to ask, "When are you wanting to leave?"

"As soon as possible," she urged, eyeing the bandage on his side.

"We can spare a few hours to spend with your family and say goodbye."

Liliana fixed him with a glare, assuring, "We really cant. You need to be looked at properly. We're not taking any risks."

With a quite groan he turned back to Gavino who was still lingering in the doorway. Gavino's eyebrows rose in surprise when he saw Marcello roll his eyes. It seemed the pain medication Dr. Candido had given Marcello were finally beginning to work. Liliana had no other explanation as to why he was acting so casual with a man he had previously expressed disdain towards.

"I guess we just need to pack and we'll be ready to leave," Marcello confirmed.

It didn't take Liliana very long to pack her and Marcello's belongings. It took longer for her to convince Marcello to lay still on the bed and stop trying to help in case he hurt himself further. He was adamant he could pack his own things but had been barely capable of getting up off of the couch by himself.

Stood in the doorway, about to leave with her final bag at her feet, Liliana's aunt approached her, with all three of her cousins following.

"Liliana," Adelina breathed, cupping her niece's cheeks in her palms.

"I'm sorry I have to leave so soon."

"No, no, you have to, I understand, it's not safe for you here." She pressed a heavy kiss to Liliana's forehead and then wrapped her in a tight hug. Adelina's arms crushed Liliana to her chest, holding on for longer than usual and Liliana was momentarily overwhelmed by her aunts familiar perfume.

When Liliana finally pulled back, Adelina smiled at her with tears in her eyes. Despite knowing she had to return to America, she could barely tear herself away from her aunt's doorstep. Marcello was already waiting in the car for her, to offer her some privacy while Liliana made her farewells with her family.

"Please promise you'll come visit soon. I'm - I'm going to need you." Liliana stopped herself from touching her stomach. She met the eyes of Marco, who was standing just behind his mother with his arms folded across his chest. Her eldest cousin offered her a solemn smile. Liliana cleared her throat, shuffling on her feet as she murmured a soft, "I'll see you all soon."

***

By the time they arrived in New York, Marcello had seemingly retreated into himself. He spoke whenever Liliana addressed him - which wasn't often as she sensed his growing frustration - but his answers were short and clipped. She suspected his painkillers were wearing off; she had yet to see him take any more during their long flight.

She had offered to help him off the plane but as she suspected, Mercello remained stubborn and insisted he was perfectly capable of walking down a few steps.

To Liliana's surprise, both Giovanni and Angelo were there to greet them on the runway. The two brothers could not have appeared less similar if they had tried. Giovanni looked as professional as always in his fitted navy trousers, white sleeveless button up, his polished shoes and an expensive watch adorning his wrist. Angelo, however, looked as if he had just rolled out of bed in black sweatpants and trainers, a grey hoodie, and his hair in a messy tousle.

A large black town car awaited them, instead of Marcello's usual Audi, as well a larger than usual security detail that all watched them with a fierce concentration. It was clear they had already been informed of the attack, and Marcello's injuries. A small part of Liliana wondered if they already knew of her pregnancy too.

Liliana had barely stepped onto the tarmac before Angelo was there sweeping her into a hug, her name on his lips. His muscled arms wound tightly around her shoulders while Liliana's remained limp at her sides. She was frozen, unable to return his enthusiasm. When he pulled back, his hands resting on the top of her shoulders, he was frowning.

"What's wrong?"

Besides the obvious? Liliana thought to herself, matching his frown.

"I don't know... Your enthusiasm is... You're being..." Liliana murmured. She no longer knew where she stood with Angelo after everything that had transpired between them. They had reconciled after the initial conflict with Mercello, but then came her discovery of Angelo and Anton's physical relationship. Their last few conversations had been tense and Liliana was certain that Angelo was uncomfortable that Liliana knew of his intimate relationship with Marcello's lifelong friend. She also distinctly remembered him scoffing about the state of her marriage behind her back - though she could hardly blame him for that, her marriage had been a mess from the start. "Things were weird the last time we spoke."

"I've been a dick," Angelo sighed, shrugging his shoulders casually. Liliana heard Giovanni snicker behind her as he greeted Marcello but she didn't turn to look.

"What's new?" The older brother coughed. Angelo shot him a scowl over Liliana's shoulder but didn't take his brother's taunt.

"Whatever your relationship with Marcello is, it's nothing to do with me. I know I've already apologised before but after the last time we spoke," he paused, and a look passed between them. "I was defensive and unsure of your reaction so I'm sorry for being so short with you. And with you and Marcello, I know I was being selfish. It was a matter of my ego being bruised and I was acting like a child because of it."

"You are a child," Giovanni interjected again, smirking. Angelo gritted his teeth, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

"Why don't you get in the damn car?" Angelo snapped. Giovanni burst into laughter, sauntering towards the car as Mercello came up beside her.

"What happened the last time you spoke?" Marcello's eyes narrowed. Liliana narrowed her eyes in return, pursing her lips. She hoped after everything they had talked about, this wasn't his jealousy rearing it's ugly head.

Especially considering the fact that to her, there was no competition between the two brothers; even with the almost permanent grimace on Marcello's face, the slightly yellow tint to the bags beneath his eyes and the hunched way he carried himself as the result of his injury she would still choose him over Angelo any day. She could admit that Angelo was an attractive man, but she wasn't attracted to him, and he wasn't Marcello. He wasn't her surprisingly gentle husband, who, as of late, was attentive and kind, and genuinely trying to better himself for her.

"Not this again," Angelo groaned, stepping away from Liliana with his hands held mockingly in the air. He was smirking at his eldest brother.

"I'm not jealous, just curious." Marcello gave Angelo's shoulder a shove as he reached for Liliana's hand. "I don't like secrets."

"When you're not the one keeping them," Angelo muttered under his breath but said no more, especially after the hard glare Marcello threw his way, and obediently followed after Giovanni who was holding the back seat of the large car open.

Giovanni and Marcello began speaking as soon as everyone was in the car, quiet enough that Liliana couldn't make out what exactly they were saying. Marcello was snappish, his responses curt and somewhat disinterested. Angelo would speak up to add to the conversation every now and again, but was ultimately removed from the discussion, much like Liliana who was paying less attention to what was being said and focussed more on her husbands mood. He needed to see medical attention soon and he needed to take more painkillers - he clearly wasn't dealing well without them.

Eventually, when Giovanni finally conceded in trying to engage Marcello in conversation, and a tense silence lulled between them, Angelo turned his attention towards her.

"How was the trip to Italy?" Angelo asked her, not bothering to glance at Marcello who was scowling down at the phone in his hands.

"How do you think it was?" Giovanni grunted from behind the wheel. "Mercello was shot."

"Someone always gets shot," Angelo grumbled, not seeming at all bothered that his brother had nearly been killed. Neither Giovanni or Angelo mentioned Barbato. He offered Liliana a large innocent smile. "I meant how was the time you spent with your family?"

"It was good." Liliana nodded, glancing back at Marcello who she realised was now studying her. "I didn't realise how much I had missed them until we were reunited. Hopefully they'll visit soon."

"I'm sure that can be easily arranged," Angelo commented, his head bobbing. He looked towards Marcello for confirmation but he remained silent, returning his attention to his phone once again.

"What time is it?" Liliana asked, drawing his attention back to her.

"Only three p.m."

Liliana groaned, tilting her head back against her seat. It was so early, had they still been in Italy it would have been nearing nine, and Liliana would have been ready for bed. Marcello needed his sleep too, he looked understandably exhausted, and if he wanted to heal as quickly as possible he needed to rest.

By the time they finally arrived at the manor, Marcello had needed help stepping out of the car, much to his chagrin. But her husband had gritted his teeth and kept his complaints to himself as Giovanni insisted on aiding him.

"Oh, before you disappear upstairs to unpack, you have some mail, Lil'," Angelo called from behind them in the hallway. Marcello met her eyes briefly. Was this another letter sent to taunt her? "Were you expecting something?"

"Are we not going to the hospital?" Liliana muttered to Marcello as Angelo walked off to retrieve whatever had arrived for her, her brows knitting together in confusion. Did Angelo and Giovanni not understand the severity of Mercello's condition? Or was she overreacting?

"Isaac will be arriving here with a team of people. I agree with what you said in Italy. I shouldn't be in public right now, at least not today," Marcello murmured to her quietly.

Liliana wasn't sure how much she trusted the doctors capabilities. She seen how nervous he had been the last time he was at the manor. Surely his nerves were more likely to lead to a mistake? The only positive thing about Marcello's plan, was that at least he would be able to retire to bed as soon as the doctor finished.

Angelo reappeared a few seconds later with a small box and two envelopes in his hands.

"The package came with the instruction to open it in private." He passed it over to her carefully, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets as he quirked an eyebrow at Marcello. "You sure you're not expecting anything?"

"Do you know what it is?" Marcello asked Angelo, in a gruff tone, eyeing him warily.

"We haven't looked at it," Giovanni reassured from where he leant against the doorway to the lounge.

Liliana stared at the small rectangular box in her hands, wrapped in beautiful white and gold paper with metallic gold ribbons securing the package. There was indeed a tag with only the short typed note to not open the box in front of anyone else; no name.

"Let's find out then." She shrugged. After her history with unexpected mail, there was no way that Liliana would be opening this without Marcello. Screw the instructions.

Liliana had settled herself in the usual high back, leather armchair in the lounge with the D'Onofrio brothers taking the couch. She sat stiff, back straight with the wrapped box resting on her knee's. Her fingers gripped the curled ribbon and hesitated. Surely she shouldn't be opening an anonymous package addressed to her, especially considering the threats she and Marcello had been receiving. Perhaps opening the corresponding card first would be a better idea.

"Open it."

Liliana's head snapped towards her husband at his sharp command, only to see his sights were set impatiently on the package.

With a firm tug, the ribbon pulled away and Liliana was able to tear at the edges of the paper. She was careful not to rip the wrapping. It seemed a waste to destroy something so pretty, that's what she was telling herself at least. It seemed more likely she just wanted to delay discovering whatever was awaiting her inside.

"What if it's... I don't know... a bomb or something?" Liliana asked, biting her lip and feeling somewhat idiotic. She was being paranoid, but that seemed a normal reaction given what had happened recently.

"It's been checked for risks by our security as much as it can without opening it. It's safe, I promise," Giovanni explained, not seeming to hold any judgment towards her hesitation.

"Okay," Liliana sighed. She pulled away the remaining paper to reveal a plain crème, cardboard box with a lid. Angelo leant forward on the couch, angling his body towards her and the package. From where he sat he had the best vantage point other than Liliana.

Liliana froze momentarily when she saw the content of the box. Her heart thumped heavily as she slowly pulled the items out, inspecting them.

"What, uh... are those, ah, baby shoes?" Angelo seemed disappointed, rubbing the back of his neck as he slouched back. Clearly he had been expected something more exciting. Until his eyes widened dramatically. "Wait, are you-"

"Do I not get to tell anyone on my own terms?" Liliana groaned. She dropped the tiny, fuzzy, grey baby slippers back into the box and placed it onto the floor. Her head fell to her hands as she rubbed at her cheeks in frustration. First the unexpected reveal to her cousins and Mercello, and now to his brothers.

Angelo was on his feet, seeming elated as he struggling to string a full sentence together.

"Holy... You're preg- there's a baby, you're gonna' be-"

"You're pregnant?" Giovanni interrupted his stuttering younger brother. He frowned, his lips pressed together tightly as he awaited Liliana's answer, eyes darting between both her and Mercello. At Mercello's firm nod, Giovanni's nostrils flared. He exhaled and shot up, pausing for a moment as if he were conflicted on what to do next, before briskly making his way out of the lounge.

Liliana was lost, looking to Marcello for explanation, her mouth agape. "Wha-"

"Leave him for a while," her husband urged, cutting her off with a shake of his head. But he was still staring after his younger brother with a frown. "He's just... concerned."

"Open the letters," Angelo urged, unbothered with Giovanni's display. He reached for the box, examining it further as if to look for clues as to who sent it.

She opened the corresponding gold envelope first, purposefully avoiding the letter that looked all too familiar. She shared a look of concern with Marcello and knew that he had noticed it too. They would be opening that one in private.

Heart still racing, Liliana opened the card and skimmed the note inside before reading anything out loud.

Dear Liliana,

I hope you do not overthink your situation and you grant yourself the luxury of trust in Mercello and your future. Not all things born in darkness must remain so.

A.B.

"It's - It's from Barbato," Liliana cleared away the sudden thickness in her voice. She knew her face would look flushed as she fought back the overwhelming wave of emotions. "He must have sent this after I met up with him alone."

"Alessandro Barbato?" Angelo asked incredulously. "He sent you a baby gift? He knew?"

Liliana placed the note back into the envelope with shaking hands, embarrassed by the tear that ran down her cheek. She couldn't believe how thoughtful Barbato had been. He had wanted her to open it alone in case she had not told Marcello about the pregnancy yet - perhaps he would have warned her about the arriving package too had he not been killed.

"When could he have sent this? When did he find out?"

"Dio," Mercello cursed. His loud voice cut through Angelo's questioning and had both him and Liliana jumping at the unexpected volume. "Angelo, leave."

"Leave?" Angelo gaped. He looked towards Liliana but she didn't, couldn't, say anything - not as fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Go upstairs, anywhere. Leave the room. Leave us alone." Marcello waved towards the door, not even looking at his brother as he scowled across the room at the note in Liliana's hand. The remaining unopened letter in the familiar crème envelope was crumpled between his clenched fingers.

Though seeming both confused and offended for being kicked out of the lounge, Angelo dutifully obeyed his older brother. He offered Liliana a small, tight lipped smile, one she returned tearfully, before he was out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" Marcello asked, as if she wasn't visibly breaking down in front of him.

"You keep asking me that," she deflected in a croaking voice. She dropped the note, allowing it to fall and glide halfway across the rug towards Marcello.

"Am I not allowed to be concerned? You're crying." He sighed. Liliana was pouting, rubbing at the tears on her cheeks with a rough hand. She felt stupid, as if she didn't have any right to be so emotional. Marcello was the one who had been injured, he was the one who had lost his grandfather, and instead of being there for him and comforting her husband, Marcello was forced to be the one worrying about her.

"Sorry." Liliana cleared her throat, her gaze dropping towards the note on the rug where she could still see Barbato's handwriting. She shifted in the chair, tucking her knees up as she leant into the curve of the back of the chair. Her cheek pressed against the leather.

On the couch Marcello continued to sit stiffly, his feet flat on the floor, his hands clenched into fists on top of his thighs.

"Don't apologise," he muttered softly. "It's okay to cry."

"Well I feel terrible," Liliana chuckled dryly, sniffing disgustingly loud as she continued to pat at her damp eyes. Marcello cracked a small smile, but it was forced and his attention was still focused on the handwritten note from his grandfather. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking..." Marcello exhaled heavily. "That neither of us is remotely prepared for the changes that are about to occur. I hate that one night together has changed our future entirely, and thrown us into something I know you are not ready for. Already you've been forced into so much. I regret the timing of that night. We rushed into sex too such, when our relationship was still so dysfunctional and volatile."

Liliana breathed deeply, pushing back the emotions that threatened to overcome her. They were broaching upon a real, intimate discussion about their situation. She too had regretted their first night together ever since it had happened, and it would be hypocritical to not expect of allow Marcello to feel the same.

"I'm scared," she confessed, her voice wobbling with her lower lip. "I'm terrified that this is just another step into following the life of my mamma, and of your mother. And I know sometimes you worry about the same thing. I don't feel at all ready for this and I want this to be something that forces more distance between us. I won't survive this if things return to how they were between us. I can't be alone in this pregnancy."

"I knew that with our marriage, children would be inevitable," Marcello sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's the way things are, the way they have to be for us. But I don't want that life; I'm terrified, like you, about what it will mean for us. I know the consequence of children in this life, I understand what it could do to you, to us."

Both Liliana and Marcello were examples of what a child meant in their lifestyle. A child, a new life, could mean the end of theirs. Were they prepared to risk everything for a repetition of their past?

Marcello sighed again, sounding so defeated. He waved the final, unopened letter his hands, the letter that Liliana was almost certain was another threat. "I need to open this, but I can do it in private, if you don't want to know."

"I do," Liliana said firmly.

Marcello tore into the envelope with little care to its contents. Inside the envelope there was only one small note card with a single word scrawled in the centre in black ink.

Congratulations.

***

Marcello wasn't often one to admit feeling anxious or stressed. But sitting beside his pregnant wife, as he read that singular word over and over again, he recognised the sinking feeling in his stomach as just that. Liliana had been rendered frozen, her eyes glazed over in what he recognised as the warning sign for her oncoming tears.

With the confusing mess of emotions he had been feeling all day, he would hardly surprised if he followed suit.

Anger was an emotion he was most familiar with. Anger was how he reacted to most things in his life that troubled him. It was his anger that made him the ruthless man other's feared, and though he was not proud of his anger, that was a fact all the same. But he was so tired; it felt as if all the energy had been dragged from his body. Where once existed a fiery pit, now sat a dark hole, void of anything. He felt numb, and close to breaking.

"Do you think it means..." Liliana looked horrified, her hands falling to her stomach.

Unquestionably. Marcello stayed quiet, unwilling to tell Liliana so bluntly. He knew she knew the truth anyway. He swallowed roughly, his mouth dry as something akin to fear washed through him. He had to remain calm for Liliana; if he showed any hint of distress then it would only pave the way for her own breakdown. One of them had to remain strong.

"We're going to be okay, mia amore," Mercello lied softly instead, having no idea what threats laid ahead of them. It terrified him.

"Are we?" She was quick to fix him with her disbelieving gaze. But he noticed the way she eyed the slump of his shoulders, and the clenching of his jaw. She could read him too well. He was on the verge of snapping, and Liliana probably knew it.

"We're both tired, and not fit to deal with this now. Why don't you go get ready for bed and I'll wait for Dr. Isaac." His words were not a request but a command. Marcello could feel himself wearing too thin, and soon his composure would rip wide open. He didn't want Liliana to be there for that. Not after the day they had had.

Liliana was nodding, pulling herself to her feet in a somewhat vacant manner. Her eyes were not focussed on anything in particular and her movements were sluggish. Marcello waited until she was out of the lounge and heading up the large staircase before stalking off - as fast as he possibly could manage - towards the other side of the house.

Giovanni was waiting for him in his office, stealing away any time Marcello had hoped to be alone so he could collect himself before having to face anyone else. He didn't allow his disappointment to show on his face, stealing back the deep groan urging to escape and the numerous curses he wanted to scream. His features were kept calm as he halted in to doorway.

"Pregnant..." Giovanni was the first of the two brothers to speak. He was facing away from Marcello in one of the chairs that faced his desk, sat rather resigned to say he had stormed out of a room not fifteen minutes ago. He didn't bother to turn to look at Marcello.

"Yes." Marcello was hesitant, closing his door softly he mustered the effort to continue into the room to face his younger brother. He was exhausted, and despite the strong image he was trying to exude, the pain in his side was agonising. If there ever were a time he wished to escape the confinements that were his life, it was now.

"Was this planned?"

"Poorly planned, if it was," Marcello muttered beneath his breath. His younger brother shot him a flat, unamused look. With a sigh, Marcello eyed his chair tucked into his desk before facing is brother again. He didn't want to bare the pain it would take to sit down in front of Giovanni, instead he settled for crossing his arms across his chest. "No, it was not."

Giovanni nodded slowly, taking in the information. His fingers drummed against the arm of his chair, loud enough that the repetitive noise irritated him.

"I know you want to say your piece on the matter," Marcello drawled, narrowing his eyes. "I can't imagine why you're staying so silent, but I understand your concerns and I understand how the situation might be difficult for you."

"Do you?" Giovanni's tone cut sharp. When Mercello didn't deign to respond to his goading, he grunted, "What are you going to do?"

Marcello was ashamed to admit he didn't know.



Happy Valentines day!



Q. What are you predictions for the end of the book?