[RE-WRITTEN]
Liliana awoke that morning, not to the familiar sight of an empty bed, but to Marcello working beside her in bed. Despite this, she had been unable to summon enough energy to speak to him - she had barely been able to meet his eyes as she emerged from their bathroom after a cold shower, fully dressed and with every intention to avoid him for the day.
The irony was not lost on her. The entirety of their marriage had been spent with Marcello avoiding her at all costs, and now, despite how irritated she had been by such behaviour, Liliana was to do the same. But, Liliana knew she could not bare to be in his company today, not until she knew more about her mother, not until she had confirmed Marcello had no part in this lie. According to the photographs, Emiliana Fiorenza had not died in hospital, days after her birth, but here, in the D'Onofrio manor.
Liliana met with Giovanni in the kitchen, and speared him with a determined, narrow eyed stare. A tension coiled deep in her gut as she faced him, one that urged her to snap and throw around accusations that she had no possible way of backing up. She had to stay calm though, she couldn't let anything slip until she knew everything.
"Where's my father?" She interrogated, offering no greeting. Her brother-in-law glanced up from the newspaper in his hands. Liliana only spared the foreign object a short glance, wondering why on earth he switched to the morning paper rather than the news articles on his phone. He folded the paper, throwing it onto the counter top and gave her his undivided attention.
"In the country, why?" Giovanni replied with a slow, measured tone, not giving enough information away at once. His brows furrowed as he looked her over, eyes lingering on the darkening bruises around her neck. The thick, finger marks in her neck had quickly turned a dark blue, which could only slightly be covered by her makeup.
"Where is he?" Liliana asked again, tone growing sharp. She was tired of being drip fed the truth of her family history through these idiotic anonymous letters. This was her family, her life, and she wanted to know the truth. Today she would confront her father, and she would not leave until he told her everything she wished to know.
Giovanni reached for the porcelain mug in front of him, taking a languid sip at his morning coffee, seemingly thinking over the question. Liliana bit at her lower lip, in attempt to hold back any impatient remarks, as she glared.
"Despite Dad's promise to keep Antonio at the top, Marcello's banished him to some crappy little desk job for now," Giovanni drawled. "He's not been allowed to return home or to the Fiorenza house in Italy."
"So he's still here, in New York?" She could see the smirk growing on the edges of Giovanni's lips but it was wearisome and she knew it was caution not humour that prevailed in his hesitance.
"At the head office, I believe. I thought you wished to stay away from your father?"
Liliana's arms crossed tightly across her chest, "I think it's time we sat down and spoke about this whole thing, don't you agree? It will do me no good to run from my problems, and I feel he owes me an explanation."
Liliana tried her best to ensure nothing gave away the irritation pulsing beneath the surface at the thought of reuniting with her father. Things could never be rectified between them, not after the extent of his selfish nature was revealed. She was thankful for Barbato's brutal honesty, even if the truth had been hard for her to hear at the time.
"Right." Giovanni picked up his mobile and began tapping at the screen. "When are you wanting to leave? I'll need to organise it with your guards, and Angelo."
Liliana held back a groan. She would really rather neither of the brothers accompany her on this trip but she wasn't stupid enough to think that was plausible or safe.
"It'd be best if we left as soon as possible."
***
"Liliana?" Her father's voice greeted her as soon as she appeared in the doorway of his new office. Liliana took a second to glance around the dimly lit, barely furnished room as he scrambled to his feet behind a small desk, struggling to greet her at the door. This was not the luxury her father was used to, and it was clear to her that Marcello was punishing her father. Before now, she might have found such a thing sweet.
Her father seemed somewhat pleased to see her, no doubt wrongly assuming she was here to help him, unaware of the D'Onofrio men waiting just outside.
"Before you start, I haven't got time for small talk, we both know it's just an act anyway," Liliana huffed, sidestepping him when he came too close. If he thought she would greet him with any warmth, then he was sorely mistaken.
"I heard you were hurt," he revealed, his gaze falling to her bandaged hand. And yet he hadn't bothered to check that she was alright. Liliana crossed her hands and hid her palm from view. How could he have seemed so caring when she was a child only to become so careless so suddenly, now that she was eighteen and married off?
"Let me get straight to the point. I know everything you told me about mamma's death was a lie." Liliana took pleasure from his quick shift in demeanour. His eyes widened and his body tensed, when he opened his mouth to respond, only air escaped. "If you think what Marcello has reduced you to so far, is pitiful enough, then you will tell me the truth before I make it worse."
Antonio Fiorenza would quickly lean she was no someone he could walk all over, anymore. He moved towards his desk, stiffly taking a seat.
"Mercello's been working his mouth off to you then?" Antonio grumbled. "Typical. It's not enough for me to lose everything else, he has to make sure I lose you too."
Liliana's sharp laugh couldn't be stopped from escaping. Her father was delusional if he thought for a second he hadn't lost her the minute she signed her marriage certificate.
"How naïve are you?" She taunted, amusement still colouring her tone despite the hollow ache in her chest. "Don't blame your indiscretions on everyone else, that's not how this is going to work. Maybe if you had taken responsibility of your faults to begin with neither of us would be in this situation right now."
Her father's expression soured, as he leant heavily against his desk with a unmistakeable fury in his eyes.
"You've never known a damn thing about my work. Don't pretend you have all of my dirty secrets between your fingers, Liliana, don't fool yourself. Just because you have that bastardo between your thighs does not mean you have any kind of power over me. Don't forget your place."
Before today Liliana never knew what it was like to truly pity someone. He was a pathetic man grasping to the fading pieces of his old life and desperately trying to pull anyone down with him. Still, his words stirred up a ferocity in her that she had scarcely felt before.
"I know enough!" She spat. "I know you stole from the D'Onofrio's. I know you bargained me off to save your own skin, and I know Mamma died in the D'Onofrio manor!" There was a scorching heat to her cheeks as she lashed out.
He didn't speak, he could hardly hold her gaze as she leant forward and drew her face to be aligned with his. There was no escaping her, no avoiding her words. She'd stormed in here like she owned the place and she damn well wasn't leaving until she had exactly what she came for.
"You can't avoid the truth forever. I'm going to find out. Wouldn't you rather it come from yourself, than from Mercello 'working his mouth off'?" She hissed quietly, far too cautious of the men that awaited just outside the office. She didn't want them to have even an inkling of what she was about to discuss.
"What is it you want to know?"
"Don't be coy," she all but growled. She felt wild and Liliana knew if she hoped to keep control of the situation then she needed to calm down. But she had never felt so furious in her life, never had to deal with anyone as awful as she had learned her father to be. "You know exactly what you have to tell me, you can't evade this moment any longer. You told me she dies in the hospital, just days after my birth."
The colour seemed to leak from his face and Liliana didn't fail to notice the nervous tapping of his fingertips. Everything was out now and he was backed into a corner, he had no choice but to confess. He sighed deeply, slumping further in his chair. When he spoke again, his tone had lost all bravado.
"Your mother didn't die from natural causes, nor was it because of my work... She killed herself."
Liliana's sharp intake of breath was unmistakeable. Marcello had told her how much their mother's had in common, never had she assumed he meant in this way.
"How? Why? Why keep this from me?" Liliana stumbled over her words, eyes wide.
"Does it matter?" He grunted, head stooped low. Liliana bristled.
"Of course it does!" She snapped. "I've dealt with the fact that Mamma died, I dealt with that years ago, I'm here now to find out why."
"I don't know why, okay? After you were born she withdrew from everyone. Until one day, she was dead." His fingers tapped restlessly against the surface of his desk, and his eyes refused to meet her steady gaze.
"The truth." The words were forced through gritted teeth.
"That is the truth," he pressed, desperation colouring his tone. Liliana said nothing, she stepped back, teeth clenched, heart pounding as she stared pensively at the squirming man before her. He held her gaze for a prolonged pause, and it seemed as if neither of them were breathing in the small room, until finally he seemed to crack.
"I had an affair," he mumbled. Liliana could barely hear him but she knew what he had confessed. "I don't know how she found out about it but she did, she - she must have found out somehow... You had just been born, I don't know what she was thinking. She stormed into the D'onofrio's house and... well we found her in the hallway with the gun in her hand."
"Who? Who was it?" Liliana demanded breathlessly. Her eyes stung but she did well not to let any tears fall.
"Gabriella," he breathed, seeming ashamed of he confession. It wasn't enough though, she didn't care how guilty he felt. What was done was done and he could never take it back.
"You're disgusting," she spat tearfully, distancing herself away from the desk and him. Her father didn't bother to fight her.
"I'm many things," he conceded bitterly.
"A father isn't one of them, and neither is a husband." Liliana's hands were shaking and she had to shove her clenched fists inside the pockets of her coat as she glowered bitterly at Antonio. He flinched under her heated gaze and rose to his feet. Liliana didn't say anything, she couldn't say anything. Her stomach felt heavy and she was afraid if she opened her mouth she'd be sick.
He had cheated on her mamma with Sebastiano's wife, and it had inevitably lead to her mother's death. That was why Sebastiano had married her into his family. He felt guilty. It wasn't about her at all, but about placating an old man's troubled mind.
"Marcello knew about this?" She whispered, her voice barely carrying across the room. Antonio's lips flattened and he nodded shortly.
"They all did."
Silence. Thick, suffocating silence filled the room and Liliana wasn't sure how she was meant to react. She didn't know what to say or where to go. Stay here with this horrid stranger or return to the men outside, the ones who welcomed her into their family with false smiles and false care.
Antonio went to step closer, slowly, as if he was approaching a dangerous beast in the wild. The return of her harsh stare halted him in his place. Good. She wasn't ever going to let this pathetic man come within two metres of her ever again unless she allowed it.
The buzz of a phone filled the room much to the apparent relief of Antonio as he sighed and pulled a mobile from his pocket. He looked up, eyed her wearily before reaching towards his desk chair and grabbing the suit jacket resting there.
"I have to go," he explained, glancing towards the door and back to her. Liliana only nodded and made no indication of leaving. Frustration burned behind his eyes but she noticed the nervous shuffle of his feet as he edged towards the exit. Whatever it was that was tearing him away was urgent and he couldn't have had the time to ensure she left, for in the next second he was out the door. It fell to a shut behind him, leaving Liliana alone to her thoughts.
"Liliana?" Giovanni's deep voice called out. "Are you ready to go?"
She turned to find him leant one hand against the doorframe while the other rested on his hip, where she knew a weapon was concealed beneath the fabric of his clothes.
"You okay?" he asked, eyeing her warily. Liliana didn't speak, only offering a sharp nod before following him out of the office.
She followed him with red rimmed eyes, and hands that shook. But it wasn't her pain that had her shaking, but a white hot anger that simmered beneath her skin and burned to be released. She was caged between Angelo, Giovanni, and her guards with no where to go but back to the manor, back to the site of her mother's death. And when she returned, and all the D'Onofrio men were present, she knew her fury would not be held back any longer.
***
Sat stiffly in the lounge of the D'Onofrio manor, in the high-backed leather arm chair she favoured so much, Liliana was surrounded by the D'Onofrio brothers, Roderigo no where in sight. She hadn't seen him at all since before the attack, but had been too overwhelmed with all that had happened to even notice until now. She had begged Marcello to keep Roderigo safe, in light of his plans for Sebastiano, and he had agreed. Yet, her cousin had not returned to the manor with him, and she had not heard a word from him.
She wanted to believe Marcello would not have lied so callously to her face, but given all that she now knew about her mother's death, and Marcello's feigned obliviousness on the subject, she wasn't sure she could trust in anything her husband said.
Liliana hadn't planned to be in here with all the D'Onofrio's this evening, it had been odd when they had all followed her into the room. Marcello had pulled up a cushioned stool, and sat beside her with a drink in hand as he leant against the side of the arm-chair. Giovanni had taken his place on the couch alone, while Angelo was relaxed on the floor, his long legs spread out in front of him as he leant back on his forearms.
They were laughing and drinking together, and Liliana couldn't decide whether they had gathered here naturally or if they were really here to keep a watch over. They had, after all, cast wary glances at her throughout the evening as she sat in silence, watching them all with disinterest.
"You feeling okay Lil'?" Angelo asked suddenly, with furrowed brows. This drew the attention of them all onto her at once and under their probing gazes, her lips tilted down in a frown.
This was not the first time today she had been asked such a question. They had been checking up on her constantly, clearly fearful she was two-seconds from falling apart. They were rather astute in that respect.
"I'm good." Angelo looked towards Marcello.
"Are you sure? Maybe you should go lay down if you're feeling tired or ill, the doctor said not to strain yourself." He pushed off from his hands and leant forward, placing his glass onto the small table in front of him, just as Liliana felt Marcello's fingers brush hers, in a bid to get her attention. Her breath hitched, her lower lip beginning to tremble. "Lili-"
"I'm fine really," she forced out, her voice weak and nearly cracking.
"We're just concerned about you, is all."
Liliana laughed. It was a short, sharp laugh, the sound of which echoed around the room and caused the D'onofrio men to wince. There was tears pricking at the corners of her eyes but she did her best not to let them fall. Her cheeks were burning, almost as much as the tight clench of her heart in her chest and the growing fury seeping through her bones.
"Don't lie."
"What -" Angelo was cut off instantly as Liliana hadn't finished speaking, she hadn't even begun.
"I can't believe I've been so utterly foolish. All this... kindness, this 'concern'," she spat, waving dismissively at their frozen figures, "it's all just guilt. This has never been about me. I know what happened." From her pocket one of the disgusting photographs was slammed onto the table. "You just couldn't bare to have your name tarnished further with yet another death of an innocent women at your hands. I knew how poisonous you were but I didn't realise that such selfish, heartless things could exist."
"Liliana-" Marcello grabbed her arm, tugging gently, but she didn't dare turn towards him just yet. She knew it would take only one look at his deceitful face and she would break entirely.
"Don't," she snapped, the words half a sob as tears welled in her eyes. "Your father knew what happened to my mother, what happened to your mother, and yet he still set me up to the same fate. You all knew and yet you said nothing."
Wrenching her arm from his grasp, Liliana fled the room. She got as far as the front door before Marcello was there, grabbing her again and whirling her to face him. She didn't allow him to utter a word before her, quick to shout at him with venom in her voice.
"Say what you have to say quick before I leave. I can't stand to be around any of you and I feel like I'm drowning in this house, in your family," she hissed, eyes hard as her arms crossed stiffly, defensively, across her chest.
His chest rose and fell steadily as he returned her glare with equally hard eyes, a tightness coiled in his shoulders and the muscle in his jaw ticking. He took a step towards her, but stopped instantly, as if thinking better of it.
"Giovanni said you spoke to your father today." Liliana bristled but said nothing. "He told you everything?"
Still Liliana remained mute, her silence allowing the tension in the room to accumulate until it seemed the irritation behind her husband's eyes would spill over and engulf them both.
Quietly, she asked, "Have you always known?" Amidst the hallway, her voice seemed to be swallowed within the silence. She knew that if she spoke any louder her voice would break and there would be nothing to stop the oncoming flood of tears. She didn't need Mercello to see that.
"Yes."
Liliana laughed bitterly, her lower lip quivering. "And you didn't tell me, because..?"
Mercello tried to step closer to her once again but this time Liliana flinched away, flattening herself against the front door, the grooves of the wood digging uncomfortably into her back. His jaw worked and he dropped his gaze for a few seconds before he could compose himself.
"At first, I didn't know he had lied to you."
"And when you realised I knew nothing, that I had been fed only lies by my father, you didn't think to correct me?" Her voice rose with both volume and pitch, her emotions leaking painfully into her tone. Mercello seemed affronted by her words, stalking forward suddenly with a confidence he seem to gain from their duel fury.
"How should I have gone about telling you the truth, when it was so hard to hear?" He spat. A ragged exhale escaped her lips. "I didn't want to tell you because the betrayal you already faced from your father was enough. Look at you Liliana! I didn't want to cause this!"
"How convenient for you."
"I've done nothing wrong!" Mercello bellowed adamantly, a rising heat scorching his neck and cheeks. "Where's your anger for your father, for that puttana? Why am I the one to suffer your wrath?"
"Because, I had hoped you were better than them," she stated simply, her anger evaporating with the realisation. "I had wanted you to be better than them. How long would you have let me go on, not knowing the truth? How long would you have allowed me to live in such ignorance, everyday walking throughout the same halls in which my mother died, in which I nearly died?"
Marcello looked pained as she finally turned away to escape the manor. If Liliana had stayed behind a minute longer then she honestly didn't know if she would have left unscathed. The anger she had seen in Marcello, and the white hot emotion that threatened to burn her alive, had terrified her. Marcello hadn't killed her mother, but, he had lied to her about something so deeply personal the betrayal all but felt the same. If anyone could understand that, after learning the truth about his own mother, it would be him.
She didn't know where to go now, or what to do. She didn't know where she could go. She was stuck by the guarded gates of the manor, not even permitted to leave by herself. Her mobile was already in her hands texting away to the one person who she hoped she could trust, biting her lip as she awaited a response.
But then Angelo was stepping out from the grand front doors, descending the few steps to the arching driveway, and stalked towards her with purpose. He seemed stiff, withdrawn though sure of himself as he came to a stop beside her, head held high and dark sunglasses concealing half his face. He nodded towards her, then towards the guards and that's all it took for the gates to open and for Liliana to be freed - of the manor at least.
***
"You look terrible," Sophia said bluntly, not bothering to hide her concern. "Problems with Marcello?"
Liliana paused before descending into the booth of the small café, where she had first met Sophia. She flicked an irritated glance heavenward before her fingers were already reaching out and seeking solace from the large mug of tea that awaited her on the table.
"I hate that he's the first thing we speak of." Marcello and the D'Onofrio brother were always the first to be mentioned in their conversations - as was to be expected when they were all Sophia and Liliana had in common. It certainly wasn't all they ever spoke of, but right now, even just the mention of Marcello had her shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
"Okay," Sophia slowly. "What do you want to talk about?"
"How's your classes coming along?" Liliana asked, straining a smile at Sophia's instantly irritated expression. Liliana had come to learn one of Sophia's least favourite things to talk about was college. Her professor had apparently been consistently giving her bad grades all semester.
"Don't get me started," Sophia groaned, rolling her eyes. "Just got my grades back from the huge essay I've been working on for the past week and he gave me a C! Do you know how many hours I put into that thing? I know it wasn't pure gold but it was a B at least! And then the asshole tried to call me out in front of the whole class."
Liliana chuckled. It had been a while since she had had to deal with the stress of exams, essays and grades. It had been a while since she felt the weight of any responsibility now that she was jobless and had no other prospects other than wife lined up.
"I think I should visit you at college one day, have a look around," she joked. Sophia's surprise was masked mostly by the satisfaction that curved across her lips.
"Well you could always apply next year. I know they won't be turning you away."
Liliana scoffed. That was for sure, if she did apply, the mere mention of Marcello's bank account would have them begging for her to attend. Not that her husband would allow her to apply at all. "I don't think college is for me," she confessed with honesty. "A part time job maybe, just something would be nice, a group or social club for me to join." Liliana laughed but it was hollow and followed by bitter words. "I need to have a reason to get out of that house."
Sophia didn't find it even slightly amusing. Her lips wilted at the corners as a frown worked its way onto her forehead.
"How are you doing? I was surprised you asked to meet up today, and I know you don't want to talk about it, but aren't you a bit apprehensive to be put in the open like this after the attack?" Sophia drew her own mug to her lips to sip slowly at her coffee. She seemed worried and Liliana took comfort in the fact that at least one person seemed to have an honest care for her well-being.
"The only place I feel unsafe is my own home," Liliana confessed. Sophia's neatly trimmed brows pulled together further so that the creases in her forehead deepened. "I can't even step out of my bedroom on a morning without feeling sick. I just have this awful queasiness and my heart goes crazy every time I have to go anywhere near the hallway, and I'm terrified by the thought of walking anywhere in the house by myself."
Liliana sighed, finger tapping impatiently against the wooden table top as the man waiting outside for her caught her attention. Angelo was leant against the car outside the café, arms crossed, sunglasses on, and no doubt staring straight back at her. She forced her focus back onto Sophia, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Her hands found her mug of tea again, curving around the porcelain in a tight grasp.
"I need your help," she uttered quietly as she brought her mug to her lips and sipped slowly, her eyes never leaving Sophia's. The girl nodded, brows furrowing as she too glanced outside the window and towards Angelo's vigilant form. Liliana was aware of her guards sat no further that two tables away, and the silence of the otherwise empty café.
"Go on," Sophia encouraged just as quietly.
"I cant stay in the house," Liliana mumbled around the rim of her mug, using it to cover her mouth from anyone's sight. She didn't think Angelo's lip reading skills were that good but she wasn't about to take any chances. "I need to get out tomorrow. I'll tell you all about why when I do, but I really need your help, you're the only person I have to trust, right now."
"You think that's safe?"
"Is anything truly safe, when it comes to a world like ours, living amongst the people we do?" Liliana retorted. If Sophia couldn't help her, then Liliana would have no choice but to find another way to escape the D'Onofrio Manor. She needed space to breathe, and time to clear her head. With the constant uneasiness that wrapped around her and squeezed so tight it felt as if she were suffocating, having any semblance of rational thought inside that manor seemed almost impossible.
"Okay," Sophia assured, nodding firmly.
***
Marcello turned to his brothers, gesturing to the photograph Liliana had left on the coffee table, and snarled, "I'll kill that bastard! How dare he taunt her like this?"
He could barely believe Antonio would stoop so low as to try and hurt Liliana like this. It was clear now, he held no concern towards his daughter at all. Marcello was a fool not to have killed Antonio as soon as he stepped foot inside his home and made his wife cry. Now Liliana was out there, with Angelo and her guards, disappointed with him, horrified by him.
Marcello had always known, to some extent, the truth of his mothers death. He could not imagine how Liliana felt right now, and didn't want to linger on the effects of his own silence towards the subject. But for Antonio to reveal the truth in such a way, for no fathomable reason other than to cause pain, was despicable. Marcello would ensure Antonio knew he could never hurt a D'Onofrio woman again. He would make sure he paid dearly. Roderigo Fiorenza, he was sure, would be happy to inflict such a punishment.
"It makes no sense for Antonio to reveal this to her," Giovanni mused, breaking Marcello from his violent thoughts.
"It makes no sense that of all people she seems most furious with me!" Mercello snapped, pacing the room in lengthy strides as his hands ran through his hair and pulled at the dark strands.
"How did you think she would react? She's hurt and feels betrayed by us, it only makes sense she would lash out like this. Give her some time, and some space, and then take the necessary steps to make things right between you. Don't let this poison the progress you've made."
"What progress?" Marcello scoffed, still pacing. They could barely sit in one room together without arguing. His wife hated him, of that he was certain.
"Don't be an idiot," Giovanni muttered under his breath, inspecting the photograph of Liliana's mother with a grimace. Marcello had barely been able to take more than a glance at it. "Even I can see things are different between you guys now."
"What is this, marriage counselling?" Marcello turned sharply on his heels, coming to a stop as he folded his arms across his chest.
"You need to calm down. Liliana isn't her mother, and she's not yours. What happened before, isn't going to repeat itself."
His words did little to comfort Marcello, only succeeding in summoning an inescapable feeling of dread that ate away at what little composure he had left.
She isn't her mother, and she's not yours. Marcello repeated Giovanni's words to himself, hating how much they felt like a lie.