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How had I created something so good?
I had to smile at the eavesdropping piece. She was my daughter through and through. And I wondered at the gifts. I sent money monthly. I never sent things, though. Did Isabella buy them and say they were from me? She’d do anything for her daughter. She loved her fiercely. Would she even cover for my lack?
Gia returned from the bathroom and sat down beside me on the bed. I didn’t pull the letter away when her gaze fell on it.
“Will you ever tell her the truth?”
“I don’t know.”
“She loves you. And she has a right to know.”
I folded up the letter and tucked it into my pocket, rising to stand. “She’s safer if my enemies don’t know about her.” I walked over to look out the window at the growing number of cars. “And after tomorrow, I will have enemies.”
Gia came to stand by my side.
“This is only just beginning, Gia.”The four of us left early the following morning, filling Lucia and Gia in on the way there.
“The agent, do you know his name?” Gia asked.
“David Lazaro. Ring a bell?”
“He was Mateo’s contact.”
“Roman will have found out by now,” I said.
“No doubt. Henderson’s house is here to the left.” We parked around the corner of a beautiful, not too large house and climbed out, the early morning damp and chilly. We walked to the house in silence. The old man, Mr. Henderson, greeted us, obviously surprised by the presence of the women.
“Ladies, you’ll stay here while we meet?” Salvatore said as if he were asking the question.
“My housekeeper will make coffee,” Mr. Henderson said.
With that, we went into his office and closed the door.
“Thank you for coming. I know we don’t have much time, so I’ll get right to business. First, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
Salvatore answered while I tried to keep my face hard and unexpressive as stone.
“I realize you don’t know me, but I used to work for an agency where I had access to certain…things.”
“What sort of things?”
“Surveillance. Video, audio, a few other things.”
We both sat there, confused. “I’m sorry—” Salvatore began, but Henderson cut him off.
“We’ll get to it. But first, the will. What will be read this afternoon will come as a surprise to your uncle. I know for a fact he is unaware of this last change made just days before your father’s death.”
“What change?” I asked. “And how do you know about it?”
“I stood witness. Your father trusted me.”
“Mr. Henderson, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” Salvatore said.
“You will.” Henderson turned to me. “Dominic, your father is naming you as his successor.”
The words slammed into me. “What?”
“It was his wish that you become head of the Benedetti family.”
“But—”
Salvatore put a hand on my forearm. “Everything has been decided already. I signed over power to Roman,” he told Henderson.
He shook his head. “Your father was living when you did that. He has the final say. And he has spoken.”
“You’re going to take everything away from Roman?” Salvatore asked.
“Not me. Your father.”
“Why me? I’m not even—” I started.
Henderson turned to me. “Franco Benedetti is named as your father on your birth certificate. You are his son, raised as a Benedetti. And you are named as head of the family.”
“What happens to Roman?”
“He’s cut off. He won’t inherit a cent.”
“Why?” Salvatore asked. “Why this sudden change?”
Henderson cleared his throat. “Because of me.” He looked at each of us, his face grave. “I came across something some time ago, something I had to keep quiet for too long. Time came for me to go to your father with what I’d learned.”
“Spit it out,” I said. “What are you talking about?”
Salvatore didn’t speak.
“The man who ordered the assassination of your brother was closer to home than you know.”
No.
“Your uncle ordered the hit.” He paused as if for effect. “And had you been there, Salvatore, as was planned, you would have died too.”
“What?” I had to clear my throat. “What kind of proof do you have?”
“A phone conversation with a man named Jake Sapienti.”
Time stopped. Apart from the pounding of blood in my ears, the room went completely silent. Henderson’s eyes locked on mine as if giving me the time to see. Willing me to understand.
It felt like I’d taken a fist to my gut when I did see.
Salvatore glanced at me, and I knew he too knew the name of my father.
“Recording?” he asked.
Speech escaped me. I sat wordless.
“Sapienti’s phone was tapped. Feds had been looking for information on his employers for a long time. Back then, they had bigger fish to fry than your uncle. And then evidence got old. Lost or forgotten.”
“Lost or forgotten?” Salvatore asked. “How does something like that get ‘lost or forgotten?’”
“We’re human, and there are a lot of bad people out there, son. Your uncle wasn’t the worst of them, not then.”
