Stepbrother | ✔︎

31 | abluvion

abluvion [ ab•lu•vion]
n. that which has been washed away

TRIGGER WARNING: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT RAPE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT ABUSE

- v i n c e n z o -

"F*ck," I muttered as Orabella ran up the stairs the minute the doctor released us. We were there for hours as she explained all the do's, dont's, and what to expect. The whole time, I was trying to figure out how Orabella felt, but she wouldn't even talk to me.

Walking into Valentino's office, I sat down on the chair right in front of his desk. My fingers were pinching the bridge of my nose as he sat there, waiting for me to speak.

"She's pregnant, isn't she?" Valentino asked, a smirk appearing on his face with a quirked up eyebrow. I looked up enough so he could see how I didn't find this situation funny at all before looking back down.

"Five weeks," I muttered, running my hand through my hair.

"I knew it, brother. You haven't been safe, plus, every time I was around her, I could just feel my little nephew or niece calling out to me 'uncle'," he chuckled darkly before leaning back in his chair. I didn't say anything, all I could think about was what Orabella must be feeling right now.

"She knows everything. Ogni fottuta cosa," I told him. Every time I thought back to the conversation we had, I only wished I could've worded things differently. The last thing I wanted was to lose her, but it's like she's slipping between my fingers. [ every f*cking thing ]

"Did you tell her that her father is the Sean Ivanov. That her real name is Orabella Ivanov, and that her father is the man killed your biological father, our mother, and your little sister right in front of our very eyes. We had every right to end his life the way we did, and she should be grateful that I didn't end hers," he angrily seethed our, narrowing his eyes.

"Non toccherai mai un pelo sulla sua testa. You know it as much as I know it, she's nothing like Sean and Maria," I angrily responded. [ you will never touch a hair on her head ]

"Maybe, maybe not. She's still has their blood, and now she has yours. What the hell are you going to do with a Russian-Italian baby? You're having a baby with an Ivanov. With the name that murdered everything we've ever loved!" He calmly, but aggressively spoke. His tone was doing nothing but angering me.

"It wasn't her! She didn't kill them, she didn't even fu*king know, Val," I told him, standing up from the chair. His eyes were on me as he shook his head back and forth before grabbing a cigar from his desk and lighting it up.

"You may have been too young to remember, but I remember every goddamned detail of that night. I'm not going to be happy until I kill him," he said, taking a drag form his cigar, "and I don't give two f*cks about how your princess feels about it."

"I remember you holding her, our mom, and you held her all night. Even when Angelo tried to pull you away, you couldn't let go. I remember looking at my father as he bled, and he told me that one day, justice would be served. We're going to serve it," I stated, thinking about the memory that haunted me for so long.

"We'll find him," Valentino spoke, nodding his head as if he actually believed that statement, "and he'll pay."

I began walking towards the door. "Maybe it's best that she distances herself right now. The stress could hurt the thing," he said softly. I grinned, knowing that deep down he actually cared. He just had a great way of hiding it.