Chapter 37: XXXIII

— RORI —

I was discharged from hospital in the afternoon, though my doctor wishes to see me for a checkup in a week's time.

He constructed me a meal plan for the coming weeks, in order to provide my body the nutrients it requires to return to full health. I am not happy about this in the slightest, but my brothers agreed that they will take turns to cook for me, and that they, too, will eat the same meals as me, to ensure i do not feel as though i am missing out.

It's not entirely bad, but we are used to eating foods of a certain cuisine, like that of our own culture, and so it does seem to me like a great sacrifice. My doctor especially values the importance of fish in one's diet and wouldn't agree to exchange it with pasta when i so kindly asked him to.

I'm not too fond of him anymore.

Alas, my first dinner will be enjoyed in the company of Zephaniah and Yakov, at the latter's West Hollywood apartment.

While i don't feel positive about this, i am just glad to be out of hospital.

Though i could not treat myself to a long soak in a bubble bath this afternoon, as i so desperately wished to, after spending four nights in hospital, i was overjoyed by the privilege of standing in a shower that is my own, even if i had to be careful when washing myself.

I reckon our house has doubled in size since the last time i saw it, also...

"I can't believe you've been here for three months and Teddy is the only one of us to have set foot in this apartment of yours. Other than Zephaniah, that is," i tell Yakov, from the passenger seat of his vintage Aston Martin.

Only my second eldest brother would drive such a refined car as this. I doubt he'd even allow my brothers the privilege of driving it. Though, with their flashy sports cars, i don't think they care either way.

All of my siblings' cars are expensive, but Yakov's are surely up there. This particular model is one of a kind, both figuratively and literately; a sleek burgundy color, as rich as the wine that he drinks, with the most pristine interior and unique details. I reckon it might have even made an appearance in some sixties' blockbuster film.

I once joked that if we ever went broke, Yakov could just sell one of his classics to pay for mine and the boys' college tuition. He simply laughed in response.

"How long have you had an apartment here, anyway?" i ask him, before he has time to respond. "Don't tell me you've been staying there all of these years and not once thought to visit us."

The last time i was in a car, it was Damiano's Porsche. I haven't been driven by Yakov in years, and, even then, it has happened very few times. Unlike his brothers, Yakov didn't rush to get his license as soon as he turned eighteen...Not that the others weren't driving before then, but still.

Predictably, my second eldest brother was far too focused on completing his schooling, and, in the end, only attained his licence at twenty-one, after being in The States for over a year. I didn't forget his calm and collected manner also applied to his driving, as it does everything else in his life, but, given my experience with Damiano, i half expected him to take off and speed his way through the crowded traffic.

"Well, no, i haven't had it that long," he responds, vaguely, turning on his window wipers as the rain begins to thicken.

Rain is such a rarity in California; so much so that the last time i recall seeing droplets of it on a car window was when Yakov, Xavi, and i were rushing an unconscious Zephaniah to hospital.

As the weather condition worsens, i'm not sure whether to take it as a positive or negative sign. Could this car journey to my brother's apartment be the calm before the storm?

He has been awfully quiet since he picked me up. Not that Yakov has much to say on his best days, but it's definitely apparent that he has a lot on his mind. Despite the fact he lives with Zephaniah, his reason for attending our meeting, i am sure, is to act as a referee.

Of course, i am filled with dread at the thought of reuniting with my brother tonight, but it is this dread that causes me to talk incessantly. I cannot avoid Zephaniah forever, and i certainly cannot prolong this meeting.

Perhaps i would feel more comfortable if it were being held in an environment i am familiar with, but i doubt the arrangement of us gathering at the apartment is an attempt to make me feel the opposite. It is obvious that it is the best place for us to have a much needed discussion.

And, in a way, though it is not at all sinister, it is clear that the arrangement will not allow either one of us a means of avoidance. I can hardly walk out of the door mid conversation, and Zephaniah will not feel as pressured to act proud without an audience.

And, while Yakov loves nothing more than to provide his lawful input — especially when it comes to me and Zephaniah — i have a feeling he won't be so quick to jump to his brother's defence tonight...

— SUCKER PUNCH —

It only takes twenty minutes to reach West Hollywood, though it certainly feels much longer due to the absence of music and minimal conversation that takes place throughout the journey.

My brother simply parks his car in front of the tall building — i doubt this is its designated spot — and we head inside. A doorman greets him on our way in, and he introduces me to the man i now know as Martin, before we head towards the elevator.

He selects floor thirty six out of fifty, and i patiently wait for the elevator to stop, not at all in a hurry for the evening to begin. However, unlike the car journey, this trip is much quicker than i would have liked it to be.

I soon become aware of the fact there are only a few apartments on each floor. Yakov opens the door of his with a black keycard, and the elegance of the place is apparent before we have even crossed the threshold.

The air is pure; the result of a humidifier, i am sure, though it seems to be hidden in plain sight. The decor clearly reveals that the apartment belongs to Yakov, but maintains a standard of minimalism which i'm sure is appreciated by his older brother.

The kitchen and living area are adjoined in an open plan space, but they are by no means short of room, as i notice two individual corridors on either side of the room, which i am sure lead to their own living quarters. The kitchen area is frighteningly pristine, as though neither one of them has so much as spilled a crumb on a single surface, though i am confident that this is the work of a very successful housekeeper, as this standard can be seen everywhere i look; from the lack of smudges on the floor-to-ceiling, wall-length, window directly opposite us, to the wooden floorboards which contain not a single scuff mark.

Of course, the home would not be Yakov's without a few pieces of art scattered around the place, (rather, neatly correlated with one another) as well as some other attributes, like a retro gramophone by his fireplace or a marble chess set on his coffee table.

He is certainly the more tasteful of his brothers when it comes to interior design, and, by the looks of things, has all but annexed Zephaniah.

"Yakov, you have somewhat of a woman's touch," i tell him.

My brother raises an eyebrow to show he is unimpressed, and i bite back a smile.

"It's a compliment!" i argue, amused by his offence. "You should see the state of your brothers' rooms. Seamus lit himself a candle only one time and called it Feng Shui."

At this, he chuckles; an even rarer sound than the rain which is still pelting down outside.

Only, his amusement is short-lived as he scans the empty room. Without a word, he removes his coat and hangs it on the stand by the entrance. I follow suit, hesitantly placing my own next to his.

"You'll have to excuse me for a moment, Rori. I expected your brother to have—"

Yakov pauses mid sentence as he notices me flinch. Having turned away for one second to hang my coat, the implied Zephaniah has appeared out of thin air. My eldest brother is quick to smirk at my reaction, only it dissolves almost immediately when he looks into my eyes.

He averts his gaze to Yakov, who narrows his eyes at our brother, and he plasters a bitter smile onto his face, as if reading into the former's expression.

"I have yet to prepare dinner," Zephaniah explains, simply and without a care in the world, before throwing me another glance. "Smolked Salmon Tartare. Does that sound good to you, Rori?"

I haven't eaten in hours, so i would be happy with just about anything, but Zephaniah isn't exactly asking for my feedback so much as he is telling me what will be served, and so i simply nod my head in response.

"Now?" Yakov asks him, incredulous and perplexed, the pitch of his voice slightly elevated. "You want to start preparing us a meal now, as we have just walked through the door?"

"Looks like it." Zephaniah shrugs with nonchalance, and our brother shakes his head, practically seething.

"That won't do," Yakov tells him.

Zephaniah faces me once more.

"How does fruit sound, Rori?"

"The child will not eat fruit for dinner," Yakov insists.

"You, yourself, have established that there is no time to prepare some feast. I will happily do so later on, but i think it is rather important that we have a discussion first," Zephaniah tells him, using a tone of voice that leaves no room for argument. Once again, he looks my way. "Fruit, Rori?"

"Fruit is fine," i mumble.

And with that, Zephaniah wanders over to the kitchen.

I don't bother to wait for further instruction, and simply march over to the teal, velvet clad, couch in the living room. The first thing that strikes me is the lack of television, and i furrow my eyebrows, glancing around incase i have somehow missed it.

The brief interaction with my brothers has left me feeling anxious about what is coming next. I expected things to be awkward, but we have all outdone ourselves.

Long gone is Zephaniah's playful attitude; in its place an unshakable coldness. And Yakov, too, can barely maintain his composure. It feels an awful lot like i am reliving Zephaniah's twenty-eighth birthday. Only, this time, there is actually a reason to fault such behaviour. Multiple, in fact. But it all comes down to me.

I am startled by the sound of a plate being placed onto the coffee table. My head whips round, and Zephaniah stares down at me with perhaps no emotion whatsoever.

I gulp.

"Anything else?" he offers, though it comes across as begrudging.

"Fruit is fine," i emphasise once more, avoiding his scrutinising gaze.

"Water it is," he dismisses me, and i roll my eyes as he walks away.

I hear my brothers speaking in hushed voices by the kitchen, but i don't bother to turn around and make it known that i can so obviously tell they are talking about me. Instead, i focus my attention on the large window.

Unlike our family home, the view of the city from Yakov's apartment is much clearer, seeing as the hills sit in the distance. Already, this balcony is much larger than any of ours, given that it extends from the main room and sits quite far out. The view is quite extraordinary, despite the rain, and i reckon that, if i stayed here, i would spend a lot of evenings on the balcony, like i do at home, enchanted by the warm and welcoming lights which surround it.

Having spent my youth in the outskirts of towns, i can safely say there is nothing quite like being immersed in a city like Los Angeles. A city of any kind, for that matter. When travelling, i will always prefer to stay in a city as opposed to a remote location. Each one is so unique, and between sightseeing, shopping, and the fact you can get a decent meal in the early hours of the morning, i can't get enough.

As soon as the opportunity arises, i am going to purchase apartments like this one in several of my favourite cities around the world.

"You must be starving, Rori," Yakov's voice distracts me from my daydreaming.

Zephaniah places a crystal glass filled with water onto a nearby mosaic coaster as Yakov says this, and the latter diverts his attention from me to the glass, and then to our brother.

"That's a display glass," Yakov informs him.

I don't look at Zephaniah, but there is a pause before he responds with "Come again?"

Yakov's features are hardened, as he stares at our brother with bemused eyes.

"The glass that you have used is not meant to be drunk from, Zephaniah," he elaborates. "It is for display purposes only."

"Says who?" Zephaniah asks.

"Tom Ford," Yakov responds, as if it were the most mundane answer.

"What, and he will remove you from his PR list if i serve our sister a drink in this glass?" he mocks.

"No, but you risk giving her lead poisoning," Yakov quips.

I hear Zephaniah scoff, and then watch from my peripheral vision as he pours the contents of the glass into a nearby plant.

I look at Yakov, who's scathing glare is still firmly fixed on our brother, and then i look at Zephaniah, who reciprocates the action with a hostile glare of his own.

"Oh, i'm sorry!" the latter begins, sarcasm dripping from his every word. "Should i have consulted your good pal Thomas before i used your decorative glass to water your decorative plant?"

My life is a circus.

A goddamn circus.

And as if the evening hasn't already gone awry, it is at this moment that i spot a faded bruise surrounding Zephaniah's right eye.

My mouth parts in shock, as my bewildered eyes flicker between the two men once more. There is only one person i know who would have the balls to punch Zephaniah in the face, and there is only one person i know who deliberately strikes with his left fist as to preserve his dominant hand, and that person is in the room with us.

To think my eldest brothers have yet to sit themselves down so we can have a discussion, and already i am seeing some sort of trailer for their domestics.

This is no use.

"Rori, you should eat," Yakov tells me, not once removing his eyes from our brother.

"I'll bring a pitcher," Zephaniah grumbles, before he turns to walk towards the kitchen once more.

"Enough!" i exclaim, well and truly exasperated, and both of my brothers turn to face me, Zephaniah stopping in his tracks. "Yakov, i will decide when i am to eat and that will be after some sort of a discussion has took place. And Zephaniah, i do not require water. Just...just quit it please, both of you. Whatever fall out that has occurred between the two of you, put it aside for one moment. You are acting like toddlers. This is nonsense! I thought my point in being here was to make peace with Zephaniah."

The two of them make eye contact once more, sharing a look that only they can decipher, but it is clear that they very quickly reach a mutual agreement.

Yakov sits down first, on the armchair closest to me, and Zephaniah hesitates before sitting next to me on the couch, though he maintains quite a distance.

This time, i don't shy away from looking him in the eye. And, though i just ordered them to move on, the very first words to leave my mouth are, "Your eye is slightly bruised."

"You know i box," is all he says, not batting a single eyelid.

"And was your injury a result of that, or was it a spontaneous, one sided, match, in which Yakov was your attacker?" i ask, cocking my head to the side with arrogance.

"Details are unimportant," Zephaniah dismisses.

"He opened up to me at the hospital," i begin. "About your relationship in the past. How it fell apart after you fucked up, and how it became even stronger after the two of you rekindled. I found it endearing," i muse.

Zephaniah merely hums in response, as though he does not care for what i have to say. I know this can't be the truth.

"Only, i suppose i am left wondering when it is you will stop fucking up."

How can it be that his honey colored eyes appear stone cold? Each and every time i have confronted him these past few months, they have not once failed to show me a trace of humour — even the slightest amount — but now there is nothing.

"I should have done things differently. That much is true. But i am only to blame for one thing, and that is the fact i pulled the trigger as you stepped in the line of fire."

Even as he says this to me, his eyes and tone give away nothing. He seems severe, and, like i said, cold, and the total opposite of the man who's heart i thought had begun to ever so slightly soften; the man who held my hair back while i threw up in his en suite and then stayed with me until i fell asleep.

It's almost as if Zephaniah is unable to present himself as anything other than hostile when it comes to him hurting me, but if it is Teddy, or anyone else doing the hurting, he knows exactly how to act and exactly what to say.

"And you aren't to blame for sleeping with a woman your brother was dating? Or abandoning her when she fell pregnant? Or maybe framing your brother for embezzlement?" i list, baffled by his ignorance. "Not to mention, the death of our father is something you hid from me for so long. And i couldn't care less whether Yakov and i have already discussed it. I'm asking you, as my eldest brother, why you would keep such secrets and not expect them to come back and haunt you. Better yet, how could you put me in such a position where i have to betray you? Did you really assume you could do wrong to someone and they wouldn't involve me? I hate to be conceited, Zephaniah, but people will always find a way to involve me when it concerns you and your life."

"Like i said, i should have done things differently. But please understand that the information Damiano has fed you is his side of the story. You have yet to hear mine," he says. "I am well aware of the impact my actions have on you, Rori, but my understanding was that Damiano was not in a position where he could pull a stunt like this one. The last time i heard from him was..."

"Two years ago?" i guess. "Before you had him convicted for a crime he didn't commit?"

I hardly notice that he ignores the mention of our father. After all, i will only bring it up again when i find out new information.

He nods in response to my question, as nonchalant as ever despite the nature of it. I have a feeling that Damiano wasn't the first person Zephaniah put behind bars. Wrongfully, or otherwise.

"I was foolish, Rori, but i can assure you that not everything happened exactly as Damiano described. For starters, Veronica made it known to me that she and her boyfriend were taking a break before we first got together. She was a socialite, and we often appeared at the same events. Not once did i see a man on her arm. She didn't even tell me the name of this boyfriend, and i did not care to ask."

"I'm not one to lecture people on their love lives, but shouldn't that have been the first red flag? A break is hardly separation—"

"The definitions of those words are practically identical."

"—and you did not even know the man whom she was with."

"And you think it would have been better if i did?" he scoffs. "Rori, that is not how things work in such scenarios."

"Well forgive me for not being an expert in infidelity. It's just that some of us aren't into messing around with people who are spoken for," i retort, my tone of voice stern and disapproving.

"It wasn't cheating!" he exclaims with bemusement. "How many ways can i express that the two of them were not together?"

"The lines are clearly blurred, Zephaniah! How are you so sure that this Veronica didn't deceive you, simply because she, herself, had the intention of cheating?"

"Because i know that Damiano had been seeing other people. I fact checked, believe it or not, after i discovered that it was he whom she was dating. You make it out as though i am the devil for sleeping with this girl, but it's clear that he kept himself busy throughout their time apart."

I cringe at his words.

So far, all i have learned from this conversation is that my family loves to sleep around.

Well, that much was already clear based off our parents' history.

"Regardless of what Damiano was getting up to, he wasn't sleeping with his sibling's spouse and he certainly wasn't getting anybody pregnant."

Yakov, too, cringes, and i realise that i had forgotten his presence. He certainly looks as though he would rather be anywhere else right now.

"My God, Rori. I'm sure my contempt for the fact i got someone pregnant and it turned out that her boyfriend of two years was related to me does not need to be addressed. It was the worst possible situation," he agrees.

It truly is the worst possible situation.

How could anyone find the humour in it?

"I discovered the identity of Veronica's boyfriend when Damiano, himself, introduced her to me. He and i were already acquainted at the time they got back together, and i was fully aware of his relation to us because it was me who first reached out to him. The natural thing to do was pretend as though i had never met the woman in my life. At least it seemed like a good idea at the time. But of course, she was pregnant...and i had no idea of this. Let alone that the child was mine."

It makes sense that he opted not to share the history between he and Veronica with her boyfriend, when it turned out that he was his recently acquainted older brother.

Sure, the appropriate thing may have been to delicately imply that he had previously seen her, but i cannot fault Zephaniah for not immediately doing so.

"And then what?" i ask, my voice quieting at the mention of his child.

His child.

Though the topic has been a constant in my mind ever since it was revealed to me, i don't think i will ever wrap my head around the fact Zephaniah was to be a father.

"Veronica eventually told me that she was pregnant. She refused to get an abortion, and i had no choice but to respect that. I told her that she needn't worry about taking care of our child financially, but i made it very clear that i would have no part in raising it. I was extremely irresponsible after hearing this news, i will admit. I left the city for a while, not making anyone aware of my whereabouts, and, by the time i returned, Damiano knew. He knew everything. And so did Yakov..."

My eyes travel to said brother, and i recall all that he shared with me the other day.

"And what? He and Damiano never spoke to each other before you sent him packing? There was no attempt to resolve anything?"

"Veronica had twisted everything. Or failed to tell him significant pieces of information, i don't know. But suddenly, he was my uncle, and i was my father, and he was threatening me like he had done in my office," Zephaniah answers on his behalf.

"It's a very nice way of saying that Damiano had promised he would bring harm to Zephaniah," Yakov adds. "The whole point in uniting with Damiano in the first place was to eradicate the threats made by Henryk. Being that Henryk is Damiano's father, he was in a position of power. An alliance with Henryk's son would have changed things, but all hope of this was lost. The only reasonable thing to do was for Zephaniah to leave town for good, and, as i say, i did not want to see him after what i had witnessed," he explains.

"And what of his brothers?" i ask. "I still don't understand why it is that they aren't involved in any of this?"

"The same reason that Lorenzo was unable to locate Henryk following the death of our father," Zephaniah says. "He never had a relationship with his father, and Henryk had been

skipping town and hiding behind aliases for decades. Eden...i suppose you could say 'abdicated' from our lifestyle. My understanding is that he has a family..."

"A wife and kids," i add with a nod.

"Correct," Zephaniah confirms. "However, Damiano had been able to make contact with their father, and it is due to that reason that i requested to meet with him instead of his brothers. If Lorenzo were to be involved, Henryk would figure out a way to outsmart us. And we knew it well. The man is crafty, Rori. And to outrun an entire family who are after him, there must be people out there who are eager for his revolt."

The thought of there being more Henryk's out there — perhaps even more evil than he — is as unnerving as it is believable. However, i hadn't fully considered it until now.

What could we have possibly done to someone that would make them wish harm to befall our entire family?

"And so, Yakov and i went our separate ways. I did not speak to Veronica for quite some time. Yes, i was to be a father, and, therefore, would be obligated to support the child, but i could not trust her. Even before the child was a factor, i could not trust her. Similarly, she and Damiano weren't talking. I went to speak to him a day before her death, and he had surely calmed down, but, nevertheless, we weren't on good terms. You know me. I probably said the wrong things...I provoked him..."

"I don't doubt it," i agree. "But this does not explain why he would have been involved in her assassination. You claimed that it was both Damiano and Henryk who were behind it. Yakov even said you had proof."

"There was no question whether Henryk was involved. Only he would be able to orchestrate such a stunt. It was he who targeted Vinnie and Uvaldo in the same way — not to kill them, but to taunt me. Damiano's involvement, on the other hand..."

He trails off, his eyebrows furrowed as his expression reveals he is deep in thought.

"The first clue was, in fact, Henryk's involvement. Henryk hadn't bothered me until Damiano came into my life, and, like i said, only he had contact with our uncle. Secondly, all CCTV footage within the surrounding areas of the scene were sealed. I knew this was Damiano's doing. He was on better terms with the police than i am, you see, and they were well aware of his relation to Lorenzo. I pressurised the police — nothing illegal, but enough for them to give me the information i needed. Sure enough, Damiano Antonelli had sealed the footage within twenty four hours of Veronica's death. Before the crime had so much as been announced. And i later identified the embellishment on the gun that was used to be Henryk's, confirming what i already knew. It doesn't take an idiot to work out that Damiano was trying to protect himself and his father. By sealing the footage, i would, of course, be left with no technical evidence of his involvement, and thus he would be victorious."

At his mention of CCTV footage, my eyes widen. I know exactly what the footage contains, of course, and it is hardly to do with Henryk or Damiano.

"How can you be certain then?" i ask him, cautiously. "You framed him for embezzlement, right? Was that really necessary when you didn't achieve any  answers?"

The corner of Zephaniah's mouth curves upwards momentarily, but his solemn expression returns just as quickly as it left.

"Oh, but it was this choice that confirmed my suspicions. You see, Lorenzo was aware that his father was involved in Veronica's assassination. And, predictably enough, Henryk could not be located. Not only was Damiano the last person to have contact with him, but, in sealing the CCTV footage, he had ensured it was destroyed. To us, and to everyone else, it was obvious that he was hiding something. Covering his father's tracks, possibly..."

To us, and to everyone else, it was obvious that he was hiding something...

I feel my breathing quicken at those words. I know that Damiano was, in fact, hiding something, but that it was not in aid of his father. Not only that, but there was at least one clip he did not destroy.

Was he truly withholding it this entire time so that he could later use it against me, or is there another reason?

Of course Zephaniah would have believed Damiano was in cahoots with Henryk, considering he had been threatening him and they had spoken the day before Veronica's assasination. Never mind the fact he had stopped anyone from accessing the footage which would reveal that it was Henryk's gunman who fired.

"She's paler than she was in the hospital," i hear Yakov remark. "I knew this was much too soon for such a sensitive topic to be discussed."

"The sooner the better," Zephaniah insists, disregarding his brother's concern.

Perhaps i should have allowed Zephaniah to bring me a pitcher of water after all, as my throat has suddenly become very parched.

In dire need to dissolve the discomposed feeling that has washed over me, i find myself reaching for a strawberry. It's not water, but it'll do the job.

Only, the action doesn't go unnoticed by my brothers, as i am acutely aware of their perturbing gazes returning to me once more, as well as the silence that takes place when i begin chewing the strawberry, anxiously reaching for another one.

Yakov sends Zephaniah a pointed look, as if to point out my behaviour is a sign of distress, and the latter regards me with pensive eyes, clearly agreeing with him though he does not make it known.

I quickly ground myself as not to put them off sharing more with me. I have questions that i want answered, after all.

"You say a lot of bad things about the woman who was carrying your child," i begin, skeptically.

Zephaniah smiles, but it is disingenuous and wry.

"With good reason," he tells me.

"Then why did you...you know...go out with her?" i ask.

His lips twitch at my avoidance of defining their relationship for what it was.

"I don't know, Rori, because i was attracted to her. She knew that i wasn't looking for anything serious, i knew that it would be impossible to break the heart of a woman who does not act as though she has one, and i knew the relationship would soon run its course when she inevitably got back together with her boyfriend."

"And you didn't once consider the consequences of not using protection when fooling around with someone you clearly have no respect for?" i snarl.

"Mamma mia," Yakov mutters, raising his head to the ceiling as if in prayer.

Zephaniah closes his eyes for a split second, his tongue rolling to the side of his mouth as he tries to maintain a serious expression.

"You know what?" he begins, and i can already predict that his response will be one hundred percent sarcastic. "They must have slipped my mind. I'll do better in future."

I roll my eyes.

"I don't find you funny, Zephaniah," i seethe.

"It's a good thing i wasn't put on this earth to make you laugh then, isn't it?" he quips.

"I just don't understand how you and Damiano could describe Veronica as if she is two completely different people...not that he's said anything particularly redeeming about her, but he surely loved her, no?"

"Veronica wore many faces," Zephaniah says with a sneer. "And Damiano is his own person. Perhaps he fell victim to her charm, but they can't have taken a break for no reason. I don't know what their relationship was like. Obviously Veronica didn't tell me anything. I didn't even know who this boyfriend of her's was," he reminds me.

"And she had no clue of your relation to each other?" i ask, with a grimace.

"Clearly not. Damiano goes by Antonelli, me Łabanowski. Not to mention, we look nothing alike."

"I wouldn't say nothing alike," i muse.

The look Zephaniah gives me is not at all friendly.

"I have one more question," i say.

"Of course you do," he says with a sigh.

"The other day, you asked Damiano how it is possible that one can love a child that is unborn. Did you really detest the thought of fatherhood that much? Was there not even a small part of you that was curious as to what it would be like?"

"That's two questions," he comments.

"And, thus, two opportunities to make yourself seem less sociopathic about it all," i retort.

My brother scoffs.

"What, you think i cared about you before you were born?" he asks me, incredulous. "For all i know, you might not have made it out alive. You truly expect me to form a bond with a mere fetus?"

"Gee, thanks." i scoff. "And i don't remember relating this question to me in any way. Can't you understand that this is your son i am talking about? Yes, he did not live and breathe in the way we do, but he existed nonetheless. You're telling me you didn't have feelings of any kind towards him. That you didn't come up with any ideas as to what he should have been named? Did you even attend a single ultrasound?"

Zephaniah's eyes are impassive as they look into my own, which are filled with typical naive hope.

"Look, i don't know what you want me to tell you, Rori. I wanted nothing more than for Veroncia to get an abortion. Rather than thinking of names, or attending ultrasounds, i was trying to get my business in order. I wasn't prepared for a child of my own to enter the world; let alone enter my world. So it's safe to say i detested the thought of fatherhood and wasn't planning on taking part in raising him, yes."

It makes sense that this would be Zephaniah's answer, but i still find it hard to believe there wasn't any part of him that felt anything other than negatively.

After all, our parents procreated like they were in need of an army. But then again, i suppose it would be generous to say that their presence in our lives was in any way appreciated.

At the sorrow in my eyes, Zephaniah sighs once more and casts a brief glance at our brother.

"Rori...i don't know if you fully understand what happened between our parents, but i was a product of infidelity. I am the reason for all of the past and present issues within our family. I didn't want some bastard child — some younger version of myself — to be responsible for. He only would have worsened the feud that my existence helped cause, and he would have been regarded by Damiano in the same way his father regards me. Not only that, but i would be no use as a father. Just like i was no use when it came to stepping up and being the father figure you and your brothers needed."

I frown at Zephaniah's words and how sure of himself he seems, and i can't help but wonder how much of what he says stems from the beliefs of another.

It is not his fault that our family is the way it is. If we are going to blame anyone, then it should be our parents. But, that being said, he, too, was to blame for destroying the relationship between Damiano and Veronica.

Not solely, of course, and clearly not intentionally, but it's like i reminded him; actions have consequences.

I have to understand where he is coming from. And i don't think it would be wrong of me to agree with some of what he says. But i certainly doubt that he would earn himself the title of world's worst father.

Then again...

My head snaps in the direction of the door when a thundering bang fills my ears; a moment later, what must be the rattle of the door handle.

"Yakov?" i say, turning back to face him.

The person bangs on the door once more, startling me.

"Leave the room, Rori."

I disregard Zephaniah's demand, facing him with defiant eyes. We have barely discussed anything; barely gotten anywhere.

"I don't want to," i protest.

"It's a good thing i'm not asking you then," he responds, lowly and through gritted teeth. "Leave."

"But who can it be?"

Zephaniah closes his eyes and raises his head slightly in evident exasperation.

"Portala via, Yakov."

Yakov sighs, standing up and tugging on the sleeve of my sweater as if he can't quite be bothered with us.

"Make haste, Rori," he grumbles, weakly.

One deadly glare from my eldest brother has me on my feet in a second, and i begrudgingly allow Yakov to lead me out of the room.

"In here," he says, all but shoving me into the nearest room and closing the door.

I don't even allow myself to take in my surroundings, simply waiting until i can no longer hear the sound of his footsteps, before i head towards the door and wrap my hand around the handle.

"I know he's in here!" a deep voice booms. "Just open the door, already!"

Is that...

No. It can't be, right?

Teddy is in rehab. There's no way he—

"That's it!" the voice warns. "If you don't open this door in five seconds, i'll happily knock it down!"

I stand corrected.

One of my brothers huffs, and then there is some shuffling. Within a second of the door being opened, heavy footsteps vibrate through the floorboards.

"Have you lost your mind, Child!?" i hear Yakov exclaim, though his voice is even more muffled than Teddy's was from outside the apartment.

"If i had lost my mind, i wouldn't have given you a warning. I simply would have knocked it down," i hear him retort, his thick accent encasing each and every letter.

I unknowingly release a shaky breath, only now noticing that i have stopped in my tracks; my hand all but suffocating the door handle in an unrelenting grip.

I wait until there is sound before i gently but quickly push down on the handle. I leave it barely ajar, but enough that i can get somewhat of an idea as to what is going on.

Teddy shifts his steely gaze from Yakov, to what can only be Zephaniah, who is currently out of eyeshot. The tension is palpable — even from where i am standing — so thick i feel goosebumps form on my arms when i picture what Teddy's unremitting glare would look like if it were aimed at me.

"What's up with you, Big Brother?" he asks, his tone of voice sickeningly sweet and yet unbearably mocking. "You look a little pale."

I can even hear that sinister smirk of his on his lips as he speaks to Zephaniah.

"You deranged child," i hear Zephaniah say, his tone equally as callous. "How the hell do you find yourself here?"

"I discovered doors," Teddy answers, playing it up as if he is talking about one of life's greatest wonders. "Plenty of 'em too. Would you believe it?"

"I'm more concerned as to why Martin would allow you to enter the building in the state that you are in. Do you hear yourself; do you see yourself?" Yakov seethes.

"Look who's talkin', Scarface."

Teddy makes a point to look him in the eye when he delivers this line. I'm certain that Zephaniah, and even Yakov, would find the humour in his comeback, if it weren't for the current circumstance. I'm so sure of it. But no one says anything at all. No one says anything, and no one so much as reacts in any way, and it worries me.

"How do you know?"

Teddy's eyes dart to Zephaniah.

"How do i know what, Zeph?"

I watch in anticipation as Teddy begins to take slow steps towards Zephaniah.

"How do i know what?" he repeats, tauntingly and superciliously.

The Teddy i am observing right now makes it impossible to believe the encounter in rehab ever happened. But, then again, this is the Teddy we all know and are used to.

I've never witnessed such an exchange take place with his eldest brothers, however. Least of all Zephaniah.

"We were going to tell you in our own time, Teddy," Yakov attempts to placate him. "While Zephaniah's actions cannot be defended, you must remember that, wherever or whomever you have learned this news from, it is not the full story."

Teddy clearly doesn't appreciate him speaking on our brother's behalf, as he simply dismisses Yakov by taking another few steps in Zephaniah's direction.

I open the door further by the slightest amount, being sure not to make so much as a single sudden movement. I still cannot see Zephaniah from this angle, but am looking at Teddy's back as he approaches him.

"You shot her, Zephaniah," i hear him say, his tone of voice eerily disengaged and yet not void of malice. "You shot my little sister."

The silence that follows his words allows me time to wrap my head around them, and yet everything about this scenario seem unfathomable.

Never in my life have i heard Teddy refer to me in a sentence without it being something spiteful.

"It was an accident, Teddy," Zephaniah says, seemingly unfazed by his brother's antagonistic demeanour.

"An accident, huh?" Teddy repeats him, laughing slightly as he does so.

Once again, he further closes the gap between he and Zephaniah.

At this point, it is proving extremely difficult for me to see what is going on. The atmosphere is malignant, and i have to assume that even Yakov is waiting for something to happen before he acts, as he has not moved from where he is standing or attempted to defuse the situation in precaution.

I nudge the door a little further; enough that they may spot me eavesdropping in plain sight if they are to look over, but i don't care. They won't. They are far too absorbed in the drama that is our life.

I can see Zephaniah now. Barely just, but he is there. Though he is not much taller than Teddy, he stares at him as if he were so. As if Teddy were merely a small boy with the intimidation tactics of one.

Such a privilege it must be to have been born before all of your nine siblings. Such a privilege it must be to be Zephaniah.

Zephaniah holds no fear towards a boy whom he took part in raising. He doesn't so much as bat an eyelid as Teddy walks towards him in a clearly formidable and ominous manner.

In fact, even as Teddy so casually and swiftly produces a gun and places the barrel against our eldest brother's forehead, asking him "What say i shoot you? Would that also be deemed 'an accident'?", the latter does nothing but raise an eyebrow at him in a curious manner.

And then, although i cannot see Yakov's reaction, i notice Zephaniah look straight ahead of him and communicate, using only his eyes, a simple message which even i understood.

Let him be.

"Well?" Zephaniah says, and, though his stoic expression does not let up, the mocking undertone in his voice clearly reveals just how unserious he deems Teddy to be. "Aren't you going to pull the trigger?"

I have no idea how Yakov is able to stop himself from intervening, given how quick he usually is to spring into action. And, similarly, i have no idea how i have managed to remain composed, with only my heavy breathing as an indicator of how bewildered i am.

"You're a raving lunatic, you know that?" Teddy retorts.

"And yet you're the one holding me at gunpoint," Zephaniah points out with a self-assured smile. "But if you truly think blowing my brains out is going to solve all of your woes and avenge Rori, have at it."

Even from here, i can detect the intensity of Teddy's glare. The way his mouth thins and his jaw clenches. The puffing of his chest.

And Zephaniah, who is so...very...calm.

And then, out of nowhere, Zephaniah's hand grasps the wrist which Teddy holds the gun in. He acts so quickly that it is impossible to tell how, but he immobilises his brother to the point where his arm is now hooked around the front of Teddy's neck, holding him in place as he presses the gun to the side of his head.

"I think you'll find this is a more effective way to hold someone at gunpoint," Zephaniah comments, the corner of his mouth twisting upwards slightly. "But don't worry, Baby Brother; practice makes perfect."

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I know i have been killing you with anticipation leading up to Teddy's reaction (as you have quite literally told me). Here it is brief,

but only the beginning of what is to come.