Aftermath

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

Santino's POV:
"What are you doing?!" Bianca's voice follows.

My father watches the stairs with narrow eyes as silence follows. Finally, Bianca and Marco emerge from upstairs. She doesn't look happy, her brows are slightly furrowed and a frown has stolen her expression. Marco doesn't look much better, he's cradling his right hand and he's sporting the same scowl as Bianca.

"What happened?" Gio asks, walking over to the 2 of them. Bianca keeps her distance from them, she doesn't speak, but she looks visibly unhappy.

"I opened her door because she wasn't responding, she freaked out and slammed my fingers in the door," Marco says, "I have a client tomorrow, I think she broke my fucking hand!"

"Why did you open my door without permission?!" She shoots back.

"Well you weren't answering," He says.

"Alright, that will be quite enough. Gio, if you could please attend to your brother?"

Giovanni inspects his fingers. My father doesn't seem to be paying Marco much mind as he turns to Bianca, "My name is Vincenzo, I'm your father. Can I assume you had a smooth trip here?" There's so much he wants to say, but after the start we've had, I know he's restraining himself.

Bianca doesn't move any further into the room, she looks uncomfortable, her fists are tightly closed. "It was fine."

"I don't want to keep you too long, I just want to have a talk about a few things. I'd heard about your ah...Dispute with Tiago. I'd only appreciate if next time you could exercise a bit more decorum with your older brothers? We're family and I'd only hope you could get along better."

"I didn't even know you existed until this morning, and now you want me to treat you like family? That's really funny actually, because I thought family looked out for each other. And it seems a little hard to look out for someone in Boston all the way from New York, but what do I know, right?"

She's rendered everyone silent. And everyone's eyes are on our father. He tenses his sharp jaw. But he's not mad at her. Maybe I'd think he was if I didn't understand the situation, but I know that dad was under the impression that Meredith has at least told Bianca where she came from. That we even existed.

"Bianca," He says, laying his hand on her back gently, to lead her into the room a little more. She jumps away from as though she'd been burned. She begins looking more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

Silence embraces the entire room and for a long moment, no one does anything. My father sighs, "We're here when you're ready to talk, Bianca."

Bianca's POV:
When I get into my room, I exhale a breath of pent up tension. I had no intention on meeting them all today. I wanted to at least let everything that happened settle in. Mom and John's deaths have hardly settled and now things are going all wrong.

I didn't hear Marco knock, I was sitting against my door and I had my earbuds on blast. The door opened and I panicked and slammed the door shut. It wasn't intentional, I'm just jumpy.

I don't like having people in my bedroom. It makes my stomach queasy. It makes me nervous, it makes me feel vulnerable and I begin panicking. So when he opened my door, for a moment, I lost all sense of myself, unable to gauge whether or not I can even trust them and I acted on instinct.

I shut my eyes and sit in the middle of my floor with my legs crossed. I turn the music in my earbuds up, shuffling my playlist and exhaling once. It doesn't release any tension. I lose track of time, not asleep, just sitting there letting the music embrace me.

I hear the faint sound of knocking and take my earbuds out. I open the door, standing in the doorway as not to let them come inside.

It's my father.

My father. I used to wonder what my biological father would be like. And now I have him, but just because he happened to take part in my birth, doesn't make him a father, and I know that.

He seems to pick up on the fact that I'm barricading my doorway because he doesn't attempt to step around me, only staying in the doorway. He's tall, 6'5? He's fit and he has the same sharp jaw as I've realized all my brothers have. His eyes are like a storm, grey and sharp. Piercing. I instead inherited my mother's eyes which were a soft blue and I've been told that while our blues were comparable, my eyes are sharper.

I resolve that it would be better to keep my words to a minimum rather than the venom I speak when I open my mouth, even unintentionally.

"How're you settling in?"

"Fine," I answer simply.

"I don't expect you to join us for dinner this evening if it's something you're uncomfortable with. I just want you to know that I'm here if you need to talk, as well as to lay a few ground rules."

"Don't curse?" I say almost sarcastically.

"I won't say that," He says wryly, "Though if you kept it to a minimum, I'd appreciate that. I wouldn't restrict your speech."

He really is tall. Taller than Santino, and considering my own mother was 5'7, I'm excited to grow a little taller than 5'3.

"I'd like to say that you aren't to leave the grounds without the supervision of I or your brothers. When leaving the house, the guards will supervise, so that shouldn't be a problem so long as you stay in the courtyard. I'd also appreciate if you kept the sass to a minimum? I don't want to overwhelm you with rules on your first day, please just heed the ones I've given you so far."

Too exhausted by the contents of the rest of the day, I don't fight back, simply agree, "Okay."

He smiles slightly, "And I know I've said this, but we're here when you're ready to talk."

Once he leaves, I turn the ceiling light on and prepare for a long night. A routine of mine. When I sleep, I have nightmares, not just that, but I don't like the helpless feeling of being sleep. Giving up complete control and consciousness is a scary thought.

It's daunting.