My father's lucidity comes and goes now, but seven years ago, his mind was sharp.
If he discovered Aldo's betrayal, he would have known exactly how dangerous the man was.
Dangerous enough to target anyone connected to his enemies.
Including me.
Including Elena, which explains her fear.
What about Dom?
Did he know?
Did he help?
He’s not on the list, but he worked closely with his father.
"Your old man," Carl says, interrupting my thoughts, "Umberto said he was one of the good ones. Said Antonio told him to hang tight, that the truth would come out eventually."
But Umberto was killed before that could happen. What are the chances that Aldo knew my father had visited him and arranged for Umberto’s murder then?
And now Aldo is dead and everyone involved is keeping their mouths shut.
“Of course, he didn’t live long enough, but like I said, he figured he would. His real concern was his daughter. He was torn up about leaving her alone. Said she was in trouble, but wouldn't tell him what kind."
"What kind of trouble?" Fucking hell, is there more I don’t know about?
"The kind that comes nine months after a good time." Carl's eyes meet mine directly.
The triplets.
“He made it sound like it wasn’t just that she had a bun in the oven, but there was something about the baby daddy.”
My brow furrows, not understanding what he’s trying to tell me. “She was in danger from the father?”
Carl shakes his head. “No. He said he wished the baby daddy took her to Italy with him. Said it would've been safer for her and her baby."
The world tilts off its axis. "Italy?"
"Yeah. Said the kid's father was heading there. Umberto seemed to think it was for the best, all things considered."
My mind races back through time.
Elena and I were careful when we had sex, but there was one time the condom broke.
I quickly do the mental math.
"Did he say…" My throat constricts around the words. "Did he specifically say who the father was?"
Carl shrugs. "Nah, but he wasn’t mad about it."
My world spins. I press my hands on the table to make it stop.The triplets. They’re mine. I’m a father.
"You okay, man? You look like you’re going to hurl."
"I'm fine," I manage, though it feels like nothing will ever be fine again. If what he's suggesting is true, Elena has kept my own flesh and blood from me for six years.
The rage and grief that surge through me are overwhelming.
