Page 41 of From Italy With Love

My stomach dropped. “What?”

“My father was meeting with someone. A woman.” She paused, her eyes meeting mine. “They were talking about your mother.”

Everything inside me went cold.

“My mother?” My words came out flat, dangerous. “What about my mother?”

Madigan glanced at Sinclair, who gave her a small nod. She looked back at me, and I could see the fear in her eyes. Not fear of me—fear for me.

“The woman... she said your mother had an affair.”

“What?” My voice was hard. “My mother married my father when she was eighteen. She was faithful until the day he died. She hasn’t even considered seeing anyone since his death.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Madigan said. “But this woman... she said your mother had the affair before she married your father. That she was pregnant before she married him and gave birth to the child, a boy, shortly afterward, and your father forced her to give the child up for adoption.”

The room tilted. I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me.

“Bullshit,” I growled, shaking my head. “My mother would never give up a child. Ever.”

Madigan’s hand found mine, squeezing tight. “The woman said your father, Valentino, arranged for my grandfather to take the child to some place called the Trick Pony.”

My head snapped to Sinclair’s, who stood silently, his expression giving nothing away. I had heard the rumors. That Sinclair and a few others escaped that place when they were just teens. That they were raised in that place and endured horrible things no child should ever be subjected to. Just looking at the man now, how solidly he stood, showing no emotion whatsoever, I knew the rumors were true.

I stared at him, my mind refusing to process what she was saying. “That’s not possible.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Sinclair said, speaking for the first time since entering the room. His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. “There was a child.”

“How do you know this?” My question came out as a growl.

“Because he was with me when we escaped that place,” Sinclair simply said.

“I have another brother?”

“Yes.” Sinclair nodded.

The implication hit me like a freight train. If this ever got out. If the underworld ever found out that Giovanni wasn’t the firstborn son, they would come for him. For my entire family.

The Table didn’t forgive. They didn’t forget.

And they sure as hell didn’t let go of what they considered theirs.

“This can never come out,” I said, my voice rough. “If the table finds out⁠—”

“They would destroy your family,” Sinclair finished. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

I looked at him, really looked at him. “Why do you care?”

“Because Madigan asked me to help.” He glanced at her, something almost paternal in his expression. “And because I’ve never particularly cared for her father.”

Madigan stepped closer to me. “Crispin is... he’s like an uncle to me. I grew up with his ward, Dante Sharp. When I heard what my father was planning⁠—”

“Planning?” I cut her off, my blood running cold. “What was he planning?”

“To use the information,” Sinclair said. “To leverage it against your brother. If Giovanni doesn’t agree, he’s going to sell it to the highest bidder.”

Rage, white-hot and consuming, flooded through me. “That son of a bitch!”

“There is more, Salvatore,” Madigan whispered. “I heard my father say that if Giovanni doesn’t fall in line, he will get rid of him just like he did Valentino.”