“This is his final will and testament, and it was his wish that no one should contest those changes but that they would be honored.”

A murmur fell among the crowd. The attorney cleared his throat. Roman took a seat as the reading began. Mr. Marino went through mundane things first, small inheritances, moneys changing hands, debts being forgiven or passed on, mentions of family members, of children remembered. Then came the rewards of past and future loyalty.

“It was Mr. Benedetti’s wish that I read this next piece as he wrote it, as if he were speaking to you now.”

Salvatore and I exchanged a look.

“I realize in a family such as ours, there will be differences. There have been differences. But family is family, and for the Benedetti, family is first. It is our motto. It is our path. In life, I did my best for my family, for all of you. I know it didn’t always seem that way, but I did. In death, I hope to amend mistakes I could not be forgiven in life.”

It took all I had to keep my face a dull mask.

“Each family has been given a sum of money, which you will receive privately upon the end of this reading. Each envelope also contains a contract. If you accept the funds being offered to you, then your loyalty to the Benedetti family is renewed, the bond welded like steel and unbreakable. If you choose not to sign the contract,…well—”

He stopped abruptly to meet every eye in the room. I wondered if my father had given him that instruction too. It would be like him.

“I hope you do not choose that path.”

My father. Franco Benedetti. He was my true father, not Jake Sapienti. Salvatore was right. Henderson was right. I was a Benedetti.

I sat up straighter in my chair.

“My son Salvatore has chosen to leave this life. He chose a different happiness, and I no longer hold that against him. He chose a path I did not. I could and would not. But I respect his decision and his family. My grandchildren shall receive trust funds…”

The attorney named the amount of the funds.

“Salvatore and his wife, Lucia, shall always have the protection of the family.”

But no money.

I glanced at Salvatore, whose own mask stood firmly in place.

“To Roman, my once constant friend. Ah, Roman, my beloved wife’s brother…”

I could almost see Franco shaking his head.

“You know the saying, ‘keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer?’”

All eyes turned to Roman, who looked straight ahead.

“Well, friend, you kept me in your pocket, didn’t you?”

Murmurs broke out, but the attorney held out his hand for silence and shifted his gaze to me.