“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.”

“I want to hear it,” I said.

Henderson glanced at me, and I wondered if all color had drained from my face.

“Are you sure?”

Salvatore’s hand fell on my arm. I didn’t look at him, though. I only nodded once. Henderson got up and fiddled with some ancient-looking equipment.

As soon as the phone connected, Roman’s voice—laced with disgust—came through, the line clear.

“You’re one short,” he hissed.

Salvatore stiffened beside me. We both knew what he meant.

“Keep your money. You didn’t tell me who he was. Find someone else to do your dirty work, rat. When Benedetti learns who ordered the hit on his son, you’ll get what you have coming,” Jake hissed.

“And you won’t? He’d never believe you, and he’ll kill you.”

“If I had known who he was…”

Sapienti trailed off, his tone quieter.

I’d never heard Jake Sapienti’s voice, but I had to first process the fact that the man who had fathered me, the man whom my mother supposedly loved, had killed my brother. Had shot down her beloved son.

“Mr. Sapienti’s body turned up shortly after Sergio’s assassination.”

“How did you come by this recording?” I asked.

“The federal government hired the services of the agency I worked for. That’s all I am at liberty to say on that,” Henderson replied.

“Why now? Why go to my father after all this time?” Salvatore asked.

“And how do we know you’re not fabricating this? Why do you give a shit what happens to the Benedetti family?” I asked, on my feet now, pacing to stand behind my chair and glare at the old man.

“Dominic—” Salvatore started.