The room grew uncomfortably silent. Only the monitors in the room filled the silence.
Not a word was spoken after I said I was leaving.
My brother only turned his back towards me to stare out the large window, with a furrowed brow.
"You do realize if you don't do this, someone else will have to be the head of the family, right? Do you know what it will do to everyone here? What risks there will be?" He asked me, softly.
Of course, I was well aware. But I couldn't risk them being hurt. Nothing else mattered even who the next head of the family will be.
If marrying Anthony was a stipulation along with having a child, I couldn't live like that. Especially not after what Anthony had done.
Maybe if that hadn't happened I would probably consider it, but I couldn't trust him, and if there is no trust, there is no love.
"Em, non ci riesco, mi dispiace." I whispered, tearfully. (Em, I can't go through with it, I'm sorry.)
He shook his head slowly at me before looking towards me.
"Perché sei andato da lui? Perché non sei venuto da me?" He asked, turning to look at me. (Why did you go to him? Why didn't you come to me?)
I winced in response, at his words and the hurt that dripped from them.
He had to know why I went to him. I certainly didn't do so for no reason.
"Sapevo che non mi avresti mai lasciato andare se l'avessi fatto." I whispered softly in response. (I knew you'd never let me go if I did.)
The look of anguish tells me he's about to say something hurtful, and I want him to stop but, I know it has to happen, otherwise he won't let me go.
"I still won't. I can't. I promised our parents that I'd watch over you. That I'd never let anything happen to you, Bella, tell me how am I supposed to do that with you living in another fucking country? I can't live not knowing you're safe." He says, defeated.
So, that is the card he wanted to play. Guilt tripping me so I could stay. Well, guilt was hardly what I felt.
Our parents… I hadn't thought of them since their supposed deaths.
Anthony's mother had showed me photos and videos of them and of us from our childhood because of the accident, and for a while I believed the picture that they had painted for me.
Sadly, the truth comes out eventually, this case was no different.
It pained me to see my brother hurt so badly, because of this promise. For him to have this burden on his shoulders.
As I stare at him, I can feel tears begin to fill and brim over, as we look at each other.
A knock, however, interrupts our conversation, causing us both to wipe our faces in response.
His hand squeezes my foot before he turns to look at who knocked.
Carlisle walks into the room a few moments later, wearing a solemn expression as he steps further into the room.
"Miss. Swan...here are your discharge papers. I just need you to sign these." He says in a professional tone, offering me his metal clipboard.
The awkward silence that suddenly submerged the room now seemed to be stretching on once more.
"Do I have to take any prescriptions?" I asked as I signed all the discharge papers.
"Ibuprofen should be enough to help with the aching head." He says, handing me the prescription. "You'll need to take one after you eat," He adds.
I nod in response, before throwing my legs off the side of the bed, only to sit back down when my legs give away after paying for so long.
"A proposito, mio padre ha richiesto la tua presenza questa sera." He says. (By the way, my father has requested your presence this evening.)
Damn it to hell. Senior? Why did they call him…?
Edward Masen Cullen Senior, the most feared man in the country, capo of the Cosa Nostra, was also one of the toughest business men out there.
I tell you something, if he invites you over to his house, for whatever reason it may be, you attend, no questions asked.
"When?" My brother asks.
"Seven o'clock sharp," Carlisle responds.
"Who is to attend?" I ask as I slip on my boots.
"Both of you, and the rest of the family." He responds automatically.
"Formal..or casual?" I ask, as I stood up and grabbed the bag with my things.
"The usual." Carlisle answers.
"Formal it is. Andiamo, fratello." I say before I pick up my things and head into the bathroom to change. (Let's go, brother.)
By the time I finish changing Carlisle has left the room, only leaving my prescription on the table next to my bag.
Emmett turns to look at me before inclining his head to the side.
We wordlessly walked out of the room. As I snatch the papers from the table, stuffing the discharge papers into my bag as I quickly make my way out of the hospital, only to realize I had no way to get home.
Damn it all to hell! I don't have my car with me. Now, what do I do?
"I've got you, sore." My brother says, as he begins to pull me towards his jeep. (Sis)
"I'd rather take a taxi," I commented dryly, as I dragged my feet.
"Quit your bitchin' and get the damn Jeep." He snips, as he pulls me towards the familiar enormous, black Jeep.
Damn him and his hulk like strength.
I don't reply as he picks me up and sits me down in the passenger's seat, quickly shutting the door and walking around to the front of the car to the driver's side, giving me the hairy eyeball as he does.
No word is spoken as he drives me home. Comfortable silence settles between us as he drives me home. Thirty minutes later, he is parking outside my house.
"Have you eaten anything since this morning?" He asks as he gets out and comes around to help me out.
"Not one bite," I reply honestly, as he sets me on the floor shaking his head at me in exasperation.
I hear his disbelieving scoffs as he walks ahead of me into the house, quickly heading to the kitchen, where he proceeds to pull things out of the cabin and refrigerator to make something to eat. I slowly follow silently behind him, listening to what he is doing.
When I sit down at the breakfast bar, he quickly places a large plate full of spaghetti and meatballs before me.
I stare at it horrified at the massive portion he has placed before me.
"Eat." He orders as he turns to grab his own plate and a store-bought loaf of garlic bread.
"I'm not hun—" I started before he threw me a scowl, causing me to flinch in response.
"Bella, please. For once in your life, do what I tell you to and stop fighting with me." He says, putting his head in his hands.
I scowl at him but do what I am told, nonetheless. Only managing to finish a quarter of it before pushing the plate away.
"Do you need to change too?" I ask, after downing a glass and a half of Lemonade.
"Yes. Don't worry about it though. I left my gray suit here last time." He says, checking the time and looking back at me with a pensive expression.
I know he wants to say more about what happened at the hospital, but I don't give him the chance, as I make my quick escape.
I rushed down the hall and up the stairs to my room, locking my door behind myself.
Biting my lip as I head into my closet, wondering what to put on for later.
Formal wear is always a must at the Masen-Cullen home, whether it's for dinner or not it doesn't matter to Edward Senior.
I hated the fact that I had to go back there. Back to the place where my heart was broken into a million tiny little pieces. I hated Anthony for doing it.
But most of all, I hated that they allowed it to happen.
As I pout to myself as I slowly walk out of my closet, pulling out a deep blue long sleeve, cold-shoulder ankle length maxi dress that had been hung near the door for many months now.
I sighed before proceeding to pull out a thick black belt and my black zip-up knee-high boots since it would be a cold night.
There was no point in delaying what was to come.
Even though I so badly want to. It won't happen.
With those thoughts in my head, I lay out my outfit on the bed before heading to my ensuite to shower.
It takes me ten minutes shower, another ten to blow dry my hair, and do my make up. By the time I am done, my hair falls down my back in smooth waves, with only the front pinned away from my face.
Once I am ready, I look at myself once more before I grab my purse and my black floor-length trench coat, and scarf before heading out of the room.
"Finally," My brother says, as he walks into the foyer, already dressed in his suit.
"Don't start, Emmett." I mutter as we walk out.
We silently walk back out, and towards his Jeep.
He lifts me again, before making his way back around the car, eyeing me before he turns the car on.
Now to see what Senior wants, though from the anxious expression my brother is sporting, it's not going to be good.
I doubt we are going to like it either.