There are no coincidences in life, at least not in mine. They had drawn me to that bank, pulled me to my reflection like a magnet. Nick had not happened to sit down next to me. His protection, the interest of him and his father to shield me, was not altruistic. There was nothing noble in this home, but the depth of wickedness did not come as clear as it did when we neared Peter's office.

Nick's posture changed. His back straightened a bit more, revealing the angry boy left behind. His neck twitched at the sound of her voice. I nearly missed it as the familiar voice caused my head to swim.

"Peter, this is not the path," she cautioned.

"Unfortunately, my dear, you voided your voice when you ran away," Peter chided.

"Mom?" I flipped my gaze between Peter and my mother.

"Oh, Antonia." A breath my mom had undoubtedly been holding for days escaped her as she paced across the room and engulfed me in her arms. "Thank goodness you are safe."

"Mother," Nick said from behind us.

My mom pulled away but still maintained our connection through a clutched hand. Her eyes poured over him as though he were a ghost.

"Nicholas," she breathed. "My son, you have grown into such a handsome man."

Nick bowed his head as though she had slapped him across the face.

"Son?" I managed. "Nick is your..." My voice dropped out. "Then," my eyes darted to Peter.

"Hello, my sweet Antonia." Peter nodded to me.

"My dad," I finished. "How? Why?"

"All questions we hope your mother can answer. Rose, I have waited over twenty years to ask why you tore us apart so viciously?"

"I... I...," my mom stammered before she released my hand and stumbled to the dry bar in the corner. She poured herself a lowball and gulped it down in one sip.

"Bourbon, some things never change," Peter noted with a satisfied inflection eliciting a glare from my mother.

I had never seen my mother unsteady, nor I had ever seen her drink. This woman before me was not my mother, at least not the mother I knew.

"Nicholas." Her voice dripped with a plea. "My sweet Nicholas; I had to get out. Please forgive me. This life, I couldn't bear it anymore."

"Bear what?" Peter evenly questioned. "You couldn't bear the best of everything, comforts that money can afford?" His voice curdled with each passing word. "Loving children, a devoted husband?"

"A son that needed you?" Nick added.

"I wanted to bring you with me. I tried, but..."

"But what, Rose? When you slipped from my arms in the middle of the night, were you only able to rouse your beloved Antonia even though her twin slept just feet away?"

"Yes, Mother, what about me?" My reflection appeared in the doorway. "Do I get a sickly sweet greeting? Am I your sugar-sweet Ephie?"

My mom recoiled at the appearance of her other daughter, my twin.

"Ephie, I loved you so much," my mother began, but her voice was thinner. "You just have so much of your father in you."

"Thank you," Ephie smiled as she plopped casually into one of the overstuffed leather chairs.

"Why did you leave us?" Nick pushed.

"I didn't want this life for you; for any of you," my mom sighed. "You deserved so much more."

"Than what?" Anger coursed through Peter.

"You are a criminal. Your whole family is filled with criminals. I had to protect them." Strength was filling her voice.

"But you didn't," Nick's voice rose with his own anger. "You didn't protect us. You protected her." His tongue spat out 'her' as though it were venom.

"I couldn't get to you. Your uncle showed up drunk. I had to go. I had to do what I thought was best." My mom paced to Nick and grasped at his hand, which he immediately pulled from her.

"So you left me behind. You just left?" Nick's head shook back and forth. "I needed you. I loved you."

"Oh, Nick, my sweet little boy. I never intended to leave you. I tried to come back, but it was too late. Your father ensured I could never get close to you without..."

"Without revealing yourself as the snake you are? My family steals nothing more than pebbles. You stole love; you stole a family. You stole a father from Antonia, a mother from Nick and Ephie. You stole a life," Peter spat.

"I stole nothing. I escaped a sentence. I freed Antonia. I only wish I could have done more for Nicholas and Ephie," my mother charged back.

"Do you?" Ephie perked up. "Do you wish you could have done more for me, Mother?" A childlike smile filled Ephie's face, making my mother recoil from her again.

"I tried," my mother murmured as she stumbled to the other leather chair that faced Peter's desk and collapsed into it.

She looked broken, frail even, and it stirred something in Peter. He softened at the sight of her vulnerability. He was by her side as though by instinct, clutching for her hand.

"Rose," he murmured, as though the sound of her voice from his lips would sustain her.

Her eyes lifted to meet his as the edges of her lips tipped up, and a hand coursed through his dark hair. "I'm sorry, my love. I thought I was strong enough for this, but I wasn't."

"I loved you so; you had my strength. I would have given up anything for you," he sincerely murmured.

"Your family, the life they groomed you for since birth? How could I ask that of you? They would have come after us like they did my parents, like you did my parents. This life is in your blood; extracting it is killing you."

They enthralled me. Their energy was fierce.

"Your parents... That was not me," Peter declared.

"You must have known. You may not have called for their blood, but you knew how your family would retaliate," my mother chided more softly than the topic would prescribe.

"You must have known how the family would retaliate," Peter whispered. "It devastated me. I was no longer in control. Tony snarled, and I was in no state to stop him. I had lost my heart, my soul."

"It's true," Nick offered. "He was gone for weeks, holed up in his room. We lost both parents in one night. But Grandma was strong for us."

"Yes, your grandmother. I am sure she was there." Acid burned each word my mother spoke.

"Do not speak ill of Grandma," Nick growled.

"Nicholas, this is not the time for anger," Peter cautioned, all the while his hands still clutched my mother's as though he were unwilling to sever the physical connection for fear she would evaporate again.

"Then when is the time, dear dad?" Ephie asked as she stood. "When is the time to be mad?" Without waiting for an answer, she paced from the room.

"She needed you. I was not enough for her." Peter's head bowed in defeat.

"We didn't need you. We had the family. They were enough," Nick snarled before directing his attention to me. "It is you we pity," he shot before following after Ephie.

My eyes gazed after him long after the door had slammed behind him. I was unwilling or unable to return my gaze to my broken parents and the shattered life they had inflicted on us all.