As soon as Liliana awoke the next morning, she was quick to search out her cousin. Roderigo had been placed in a bedroom far away from the room she and Marcello shared - whether that was an intentional decision on Marcello's part, she wasn't sure. She had missed her family so much since her arrival in America, and the mounting loneliness had nearly grown too much for her to bear. 

It was only 7:00 am when she knocked heavily on the door, not waiting for a response before she barged inside. Thankfully, he was already up and dressed for the day - unlike Liliana who had only hastily thrown on an old sweatshirt and shorts. 

"Good morning, Liliana," Roderigo greeted with a raspy laugh, a small smile breaking out across his face. He didn't seem the slightest bit surprised to have her storming into his room at such a time. 

She didn't respond, lower lip wobbling as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. The pungent scent of cigarettes burned at her nose but she could barely mind. He was really here, in her new home; finally someone she could truly confide in. If only the rest of her family could also be here; she missed her aunt, her grandfather, and her other cousins. 

"I've never had you hug me so enthusiastically before," Roderigo joked, hugging her back just as tight. That was all it took to finally coax her tears.  

She pulled back from the embrace quickly, wiping her eyes and laughing weakly. "Sorry, I didn't expect to be so emotional." 

"It's okay," Roderigo assured, his amusement fading. He frowned as fresh tears wet her cheeks. "I would have come sooner, but we were all told to give you time to settle." 

"I didn't want time to settle." Liliana wrapped her arms around herself, damp eyes narrowing. "I wanted my families support. I wanted to not be thrust so suddenly into this new life without warning."  

Roderigo expression turned grim, as he explained, "It was out of our hands." 

She sighed and nodded as if she understood, but she didn't, not really. If her cousins had truly wanted to see her, or talk to her, they could have. 

"What are you doing here in America?" Liliana asked, glancing anywhere but at him. His bed had been made, and his bed sat in it's centre; only a few items had been unpacked, a couple of shirts folded neatly and his guns. Liliana's lips thinned at the sight but she kept her comments to herself. It wasn't strange to see Roderigo with a weapon, but the sight of them had her feeling uneasy. She suddenly didn't feel so sure standing in this room with a man she wasn't all that close to.

"Work." Roderigo didn't elaborate, eyes tight. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking as if he were unsure of what to do or say next. 

"Rigo," she said, her voice growing firmer. "Why are you here?" 

"Sebastiano is returning today."

His answer seemed ambiguous enough, but when Roderigo glanced back at the guns on the bed, she would have had to be a fool not to understand. 

"You can't be serious," she breathed, aghast. She turned towards the door, wide eyed, as if expecting someone to come bursting through at any moment. What Roderigo was planning was so infinitely stupid, and she feared more than anything he would get himself killed as a result. In a hissed whisper, she said, "You are not going to kill Sebastiano." 

"I'm doing this for you Liliana. As long as he lives you're condemned to live under his command." His expression was arranged into something she could only describe as bleak determination. His mouth flattened, eyes hardened, and eyebrows furrowed deeply. Liliana felt her stomach tie itself into knots, as she stared disbelieving at her cousin. 

"Does Marco know about this?" She whispered. She hated to think of her eldest cousin giving such an order, but who else could command Roderigo to do such a thing? It was unlikely Roderigo would ever act alone, and the idea of her grandfather ordering such a hit was laughable. Valentino Fiorenza seemed to be on such good terms with the D'Onofrio's in Belize, and Liliana knew if he caught news of this betrayal Roderigo would not come out unscathed. 

Roderigo didn't answer, but that in itself was confirmation. Marco had sent him here to kill Sebastiano, for her. 

"Don't." There was nothing of familiarity or warmth in her tone. 

"You actually care about him? They're devils Liliana," Roderigo almost growled, turning and grabbing the two guns with heavy movements. He shoved them carelessly into a draw besides his bed, as if that would rid the memory of them, and the knowledge of what he intended to do with them, from her brain.

"Don't be ridiculous!" She very nearly stamped her feet and pouted like a child. "To say my father threw me away so callously, and my only famiglia deserted me so quickly, the D'onofrios have at least been there when I needed them!"

The hypocrisy to her words were not lost on her. But now that it was abundantly clear her father cared so little for her, Liliana was beginning to believe Sebastiano may have saved her from a far more hellish existence. If it had not been Marcello, her father may very well have married her off to someone far worse. The brutality of her aunt's arranged marriage was a perfect example of the horrors women like her were forced into.  

"You've been here all of a month and already we've lost you. Do you care for that bastardo of a husband too?" Roderigo's upper lip curled, as if the very notion disgusted him. Liliana flinched at the sight, aware that had he known the full extent of her and Marcello's relationship, she might very well disgust him too. 

"He's my husband! Of course I'm loyal to him and his family!" Liliana could feel the rising heat scorch the expanse of her cheeks as she squared up against Roderigo with a fire in her eyes. She had never once spoken to him like this before, never having reason to. It now felt like she had no choice, however. 

"Is it loyalty out of fear or out of love?" Roderigo almost laughed at her. Liliana felt a sinking in her chest as she took a wavering step back from him. Her cheeks felt hot, her eyes now completely dry of tears.

"What does it matter, the loyalty is there all the same."

"Fear is a weak foundation for anything, it's easily twisted and manipulated. If you're loyal because you're afraid then you're not choosing but being forced to stand by them. I can help you Liliana, let your family help you."

"I can't fucking win, can I?" Liliana shouted, hands falling to her hips. "I don't concede to them and I'm a disgrace to my culture and my duties as a Mafia wife; I do concede to them and I'm a disgrace to my family. What am I meant to do? What would you have me do Roderigo? Because from where I'm standing, I'm the one that would have to deal with the aftermath of this, not you. Do you really think going through with this will change anything?" 

She shook her head resolutely, fear gripping her heart. Not only did Roderigo risk himself if he attempted to go through with this plan, but he put her in danger too. If she let Roderigo harm Sebastiano, Liliana wouldn't be left unscathed from Marcello's wrath.

"Don't," she said as a final warning, fixing him with crimson glare she was sure was not as fearsome as she had hoped. But her voice was sharp and left no room for further discussion, especially as she turned on her heels and headed for the bedroom door. Beyond calling Marco and begging him to call off this ridiculous plan, Liliana was left clueless of what to do. 

Whatever excitement Liliana had once felt this morning - at the prospect of spending time with her dearly missed cousin - had now warped into a heavy sense of discomfort weighing on her chest. 

Liliana slammed the door behind her, freezing at the sight of her husband leant against the opposing wall of the doorway. It seemed he was poorly trying to control his temper, arms crossed tightly against his chest, jaw clenched. His nostrils flared when his eyes flickered across her face, no doubt noticing the evidence of her tears. 

"It seems it was a mistake to invite him here. Are you okay?" Mercello's deep, soft tone surprised her. He had only spoken like this to her once before, when she had been crying from her father's phone call. It had her pulse spiking and she couldn't keep her eyes on his.

"Did you hear what he said?" She uttered, glancing toward the floor as she hugged her arms to her chest. 

"Are you okay?" He repeated, ignoring her question. Liliana inhaled a wavering breath. All she could think of was Roderigo's reckless assassination plan. If he followed through with his intentions then someone would die, no matter the outcome. Whether it be Sebastiano, or Roderigo himself if his plan failed.

"It's not me you should be worried about."

"You're the only one I'm worried about," was his straightforward response. Liliana couldn't possibly know whether he was telling the truth or not. Perhaps he was finally trying to be considerate of her needs, or perhaps he was merely acting while her cousin resided here.

"Far too much," she muttered. "Maybe if you worried less and stopped restricting me so much, my famiglia wouldn't be plotting against your father."

His eyes narrowed as he released a noisy sigh, clearly irritated by her words. She hadn't lied though, that was why Roderigo was here to kill Sebastiano - to save her from Marcello's perceived evil clutches. It would do neither of them any good if she suddenly relinquished all desire to fight for her own needs. She had been abundantly clear with him so far. She did not appreciate being restricted so much; especially when she had never faced such restriction in Italy amongst her grandfather's arguably more dangerous enemies. So far Marcello had conceded only slightly, allowing her out of the house, but it wasn't enough and she would not stop fighting. In the end, the only way she would truly warm to her husband was if he renounced all need to control her; but that seemed unlikely. 

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's for your own safety? I cannot risk your life because of your relation to me," Mercello growled. 

"I know how to look after myself." Liliana glowered at her stubborn husband. Her previous discomfort making way for irritation. "Why do you keep perceiving me to be some weak, defenceless housewife?"

Marcello remained silent. He stepped towards her, so close that Liliana had to tilt her head to not break eye contact. His head dipped, and for a moment Liliana felt her breath hitch at his sudden proximity. His eyes never left hers, and Liliana didn't dare blink. Whatever his intention was, she refused to react. She wouldn't give in and she certainly wouldn't let him intimidate her into silence. 

"Your only defence is that you wish to keep me safe but it isn't enough," she whispered, swallowing harshly. "I truly can't understand why you would go to such lengths. I'm not asking for complete freedom, only for the life I used to live in Italy, only some freedom." 

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" He queried quietly, strained, a hand falling to her waist. The question and his touch threw Liliana off balance. She had been expecting his frustration or for an argument to ensue, not whatever this was. "Lucetta is currently setting the table, I'll grab your cousin and meet you down there."

Liliana stepped away from his touch hesitantly, eyebrows furrowed. Marcello didn't even eat breakfast. 

"What are you going to say to him?" Roderigo was a year older than Marcello, and Liliana knew vaguely of his role within the Fiorenza family. He was skilled with a knife or a gun, and he certainly didn't shy away from violence. If it came to a physical altercation between the two men, Liliana feared Marcello may not come out on top. As far as she was aware, as a mafia boss, Marcello would not be as experienced in dealing with issues personally - he must have men to do that for him. 

As if seeing her concern, a wicked grin stretched Mercello's lips. "Don't worry, I've dealt far worse than the likes of your family."

***

When Marcello remerged from his talk with Roderigo, he was by himself. 

"Well?" Liliana asked, noticing his smug grin; it made him look infinitely younger compared to his usual scowling demeaner. There was no sign of Roderigo anywhere behind him, and it was fairly obvious he wouldn't be joining them. 

"Roderigo thought it was best he not join us for breakfast." Marcello sat across from her at the dining table, ignoring Liliana's pointedly gaze as he reached for his awaiting cup of coffee. The collar of his shirt was rumpled and she was sure she could see a dusting of colour along the right side of his jaw. Whatever conversation the two men had had, it hadn't been a pleasant one. 

"I'm sure he did," Liliana muttered sarcastically, sipping on her tea. What was the point of lying when it was fairly obvious to her what had occurred? The only thing Liliana was left wondering about was how well Roderigo had faired in the fight, if a bruising jaw and out of place suit were all Marcello displayed. 

Nothing else was said between them and Liliana was reminded of the last meal they had shared, and what had followed. She wasn't sure why he was bothering to make an effort right now, perhaps some of her complaints were finally being acknowledged, perhaps now he were truly making an effort not to ignore her so succinctly. 

A member of Marcello's household staff - one Liliana did not recognise - brought out their plates. Liliana had a simple bowl of granola and fruit, where Marcello merely had two slices of toast.

It was a strange experience to be sat in the dining room at breakfast, with her absentee husband opposing her. Strange to see him at all this early in the day, actually. When she could no longer bare the silence any longer, she asked, "How long did Barbato stay last night?"

"I don't know, nor do I care," Marcello sighed, staring at his plate looking unimpressed. It was apparent that he truly did not seem to care for breakfast; that or he didn't care for her company, which was also a very real possibility. "All that matters is that he is gone." 

"For now," Liliana added. Marcello's deadpan stare told her exactly how much he appreciated such a comment. Any small fragment of a relationship those two had was already fraught with tension, understandably so given the situation. It wasn't a surprise that the topic of Alessandro Barbato wasn't a welcome one. 

Her fingertips tapped nervously against the wooden table-top, and she bit her lower lip as she contemplated her next words. "Have you spoken to him since he told you-"

"Since he told me he was my grandfather?" Marcello said before she could. "Of course not." 

"And have you spoken to Sebastiano about it? About your mother and Barbato?" 

"If he wanted to tell me anything about that man, my father has had twenty-four years to do so." There was something resolute about his tone of voice, and Liliana knew in this instance she would not succeed if she pushed the topic further. She understood, somewhat, this need to detach himself from the situation, and refuse to learn more about it. Isn't that what she had done with her mother? She and Marcello had talked only briefly about Emiliana Fiorenza, but that had been enough to upset her enough to dispel any desire to ask about her further. 

"If you need someone to talk to about these things, you can come to me," she assured softly, aware that Marcello had offered her a similar audience to which she had curtly refused. She could see how harrowing the topic of his mother could be, however, and as much as they did not get along, she didn't want Marcello to suffer alone. She had spent years of her childhood wondering about her own mother, wishing her father would talk to her more about the subject - and while she did not know how it felt to be blindsided with complicated family history such as this, she knew how it felt to be deprived of such important information.

Marcello scoffed and shot her a disbelieving look. 

"Every time we talk the conversation turns to shouting. All we ever do is argue about the same thing. All you ever do is try to fight me."

Don't snap at him, Liliana thought to herself, forcing herself not to accept this bait. It was indeed so easy to fight him, but that wouldn't be helpful right now. Liliana leant back in her chair, lips pursed as she tried to think over her next words carefully. She would not back down, by any means, but she had no need to snap or taunt. 

"Every time we start talking, you refuse to say anything and insist on keeping secrets. That's why we shout at each other," she pointed out with forced amusement. "Maybe if we spoke more then we wouldn't have so many problems and you wouldn't have to avoid me."

Okay, maybe it was harder than she thought not to taunt him. 

"I don't avoid you," he scoffed, and Liliana barely managed to stop herself from laughing incredulously. 

"Oh really?" Liliana mused, cocking an eyebrow and fixing him with an accusatory stare. "Giovanni tells me you've been spending more time working than usual, recently."

"Perhaps Giovanni's been spending a little too much time with you." It didn't take more than two seconds for Liliana to grasps what he was hinting at.

"Really?" She snapped, scornfully. "Don't be ridiculous; I spend a normal amount of time with your brother, it just must seem like too much because you're never here. You know I have very few people to spend time with, don't star restricting that even further. You don't have any rights to be jealous, and throw your weight around as you see fit, when you're the one who has all the control in this relationship." 

"Don't kid yourself Liliana," Marcello grunted. He pushed his untouched plate to this side and he lent across the table towards her, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I may restrict what you can and cannot do in this city, but you have all the control in this relationship, whether you know it or not. You choose to shut me out, to push me away... and you chose to sleep with me."

Liliana swallowed harshly, frozen in her seat and Marcello collected to his feet. Her eyes followed his movements. This was the first time either of them had acknowledged what had happened between them. Some foolish part of her had almost thought they could forget about it all together, but of course they couldn't. 

But the implication that she held all the control in that instance was insulting. Sex was not an act where one partner conceded to the other; sex was an act of mutual consent, or mutual desire. She had not chosen to sleep with him any more than he had chosen to sleep with her. 

As for choosing to push him away, what other choice did she have? If she wanted to succumb to the role of obedient, unimportant housewife - a side character of her own life - then she would be renounce all sense of agency. If she became a mindless servant to his command, then she would relinquish her power, and would be conceding to Marcello and whatever sense of superiority he so desperately wished to feel over her. If she did not push him away, if she became the compliant little wife he desired, that she might as well be tell him directly that it was okay to force her into such subservience. 

"My only control is that I refuse to back down to you. Just because you're not used to that behavior doesn't mean I'm being unfair. I have every right to say no. As do you. But it's your responsibility as my husband to respect that, even if you don't like it."

He didn't stay for the rest of breakfast.

***

Marcello had quickly called his father that morning, urging him to cancel his return to the manor, with only a brief explanation of, 'It isn't safe right now'. It wasn't unusual for such plans to be disrupted like this, it was a typical repercussion to their work. Thankfully, his father hadn't pressed why it was unsafe for him to return to New York. 

Marcello had expected the phone call to end their, he'd had no intentions of saying anything more, and yet he hesitated. His conversation with Liliana was still present in his mind. 

"Is that all?" The sound of his father's voice drawled through the phone, seeming disinterested to continue. 

Marcello swallowed around a lump in his throat, fingers clenching around his mobile. He was sat alone in his home office, glaring at a wall while he debated his next words. 

"How did my mother die?" 

Silence greeted his question, and Marcello thought for a moment that his father might end the call without another word. 

"You know how she died." Sebastiano's flat tone was the only indication of his growing anger. The sudden shift in conversation had no doubt taken him by surprise. Tough shit, Marcello had been rather taken by surprise when he'd had Alessandro Barbato storming into his home claiming to be his grandfather. 

"I know the bullshit you fed me," Marcello spat. "I know she killed herself; but suicide doesn't occur in a singular moment, it doesn't occur in a vacuum. I want to know of the days, months, years even, that led up to her death, and I want to know what drove her to it."

Marcello found it hard to speak without his voice betraying the storm of emotions surging within him. His words were gruff, voice hoarse, and Marcello was grateful to be alone so that no one could witness the prick of moisture in his eyes. 

Sebastiano laughed mockingly, the sound almost a hiss. Sebastiano was a man that took great pains to ensure he exuded nothing but strength and authority, but beneath his father's distanced persona was an ache, and a hollowness, that could never be fixed. Marcello would pity his father, if he did not see exactly the same thing in himself. He was his father's son, no doubt. 

"Are you accusing me of something?" Sebastiano's angry snarl cut through the speaker of the phone. "I did everything I could for your mother. Everything. It was her family that ruined it all!"

"Alessandro," Marcello retorted without pause. That was who his father was referencing, but refused to say the name as if it were poisonous. His father had spent years publicly hating the older Italian man, and had ensure over time that Marcello grew to dislike him too. Now knowing just who Alessandro was, Marcello recognised how insidious his father had been. 

"He's been to see you."

Marcello's scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, his jaw clenched. His father uttered no apology, now that it was apparent his secrets had been unveiled. He truly didn't care about what he had done. 

"For years you've polluted my views of that man, convinced me to see him as our enemy, and now I discover he is my grandfather, the father of a mother I barely knew, and that's all you have to say?" Marcello bellowed, seething. Sebastiano remained quiet. "Why did she die?" 

Why did she kill herself? How could you let this happen? Is it guilt that has kept you so silent all these years? 

Sebastiano's voice was throaty as he explained, "There's always been conflict between the D'Onofrio's and the Barbato's. When your mother and I met, Alessandro wanted nothing more to tear us apart while I was desperate to marry her.

"She was depressed, prenatal depression the doctors had said, and it only got worse after you were born. She wouldn't take her medication, wouldn't attend her therapy sessions. All the while Alessandro was fighting us every step of the way. She hadn't seen him in over a year by this point, but I would hear them arguing over the phone constantly. You were only eight months old when I found her with you in your nursery." Sebastiano paused to take a wavering breath. "Alessandro lost it when he heard the news, eventually getting himself arrested and I- I was a mess, constantly drinking, never home. I was careless, and suddenly Gabriella was pregnant. For Giovanni's sake, and eventually Angelo's, we stayed together - but we're all aware of how that marriage has lasted."

Marcello had a dozen thoughts, a dozen questions, and he was unsure which to ask first. He didn't know how to process this. Marcello had been too young to remember his mother's death, he had not known he had been there until now.  

"Surely Alessandro he would rather you marry, if she were pregnant. What mafioso would allow his daughter to give birth out of wed-lock, and shame the family name in such a way?" It wouldn't have been the first time a couple were forced to marry because of an unexpected pregnancy. 

"He didn't know." 

Marcello sucked in a sharp breath.

"You should have tried harder, you should have been there for her," Marcello spoke quietly, venom in his words. His father had allowed his mother to die. 

"Adriana was depressed. Her death was no one's fault; only her illness can be blamed." 

Bullshit. It seemed awfully apparent to Marcello that Alessandro and his father's rivalry had caused such a sharp decline in her mental health. Perhaps without them, she would still be here today. 

"If you never met her she would still be alive," Mercello snapped back. His head was pounding and his mouth held a bitter taste.

"Don't. Don't you dare. You know nothing of the situation."

"And whose fault is that?" Marcello hissed, hands curled tightly into fists as he shot to his feet. His chair clattered to the ground behind him. "You have told me nothing about any of this until now; and that is only because you have been caught in your lies. And after all this, you bring Liliana into this toxic family too? She doesn't even know what happened to own her mother! She thinks Emiliana died in a damn hospital for fuck's sake!" 

"And you care for her now? I saved that girl. If it had not been me to propose marriage, Antonio would have gone to anyone in order to save his own hide and pay off his debts. But by all means, divorce her, Marcello. Save her from this family," Sebastiano goaded, laughing sharply. "But you won't will you? You can pretend to hate her all you like, but it's clear you already care for her."

 Marcello's fury eased, extinguished by a wave of self loathing. He wanted to deny any truth to his father's words, but the protests caught in his throat.

"She hates me." Mercello grunted with a roll of his eyes as he finally stepped back away from the desk and lent back against the bookcase behind him. His fingers flexed, stretching out after too much pressure. "There's nothing she'd stay for."

"Of course she does. Her interests will wander if you continue to ignore her and she will revolt against the restraints you've set. She's nothing like her father, she won't bow to you. She's much like your mother in that respect."

Marcello flinched at the comparison. He didn't want to think of Liliana as anything like his mother, didn't want to consider how much their marriage could truly break her. 

"It might do you well to actually speak to her once and a while rather than the two of you shouting at one another."

Oof this chapter was very hard to re-write / edit. 

Q. What do we all think of Sebastiano now?