Franco's hangover made him flop in an armchair as soon as Carmela entered the living room. The rest of the house was empty and silent, its order disrupted by the remains of the party. The morning maid shift was a few hours away.

"Back already?" her father asked. He was angry, staring at Carmela, eyes over her. Seconds later, Viorel entered the room.

"You found her?" he looked at Carmela.

"It's the other one. Get the driver," Franco said.

After the henchman left, Franco showed her the wall: the five Walters painted from a photo. 

"I got served papers for divorce and custody of Catalina," Franco said. He was seething black, his glass empty as he stood in front of the family portrait. "Your mother is talking to the police."

The front door opened, Catalina was brought in by Stan, half pushed, half stared into obedience. She had her ballet dress on, a full-length tutu that moved with her. A natural blonde, she bore no resemblance to the twins, but she did remind Carmela of a younger Franco, with her thin lips and pointy nose.

"What is happening? You took me out of practice," Catalina said, looking at Carmela, seeing her father was drunk.

"Pack your shit," Franco said. "We're leaving."

"Don't," Carmela stopped Catalina.

The door from the kitchen slammed against the wall, and Viorel brought Oz, followed by Caterina.

"Look who I found in the driver's room," Viorel grinned at Franco.

Carmela closed her eyes to block her sister's smile.

***

Oz had a wild night already, seeing Franco pull out a gun was just the icing on the cake.

"Now you're fucking the driver?" Franco asked Caterina, who shrugged, eyes on her sister.

Who was livid, completely muted. Oz should've explained that Caterina had played the too-familiar "I can't sleep alone" card and made her stay all about Jack Rawlings. That he liked having a partner to commiserate instead of drinking his sorrows away. He let Cobrela choke on her own venom instead. 

She wore the same clothes she had changed into to leave with her new fiance: a tight dress that barely covered her ass. No straps, they would only cover too much skin. 

"It seems I only have one daughter who cares about me," Franco waved his gun around. "Take Catalina! Get the car out front," he told Stan. 

"Wait," Oz had to interfere. "I'm police, Franco." The old man didn't even acknowledge his words, only Caterina moved away from him as if he'd just confessed to carrying the plague.

 "Eeww."

Oz continued, "Don't make this harder on yourself. They're probably coming to get you. Don't add kidnapping to the charges."

"It's you Alina went to talk to?" 

"Mom?" Catalina asked, as if just then noticing she wasn't there. The matriarch participated in all family conversations, even in absence. "Where's mom?"

The doorbell rang in response.

Franco looked around, but there was no one he expected, everyone was already there. He went to the window, not liking who he saw.

"You, devious twin," he moved Carmela with the end of his gun. "See who it is, get rid of 'em."