“I was born Sara Franco.”
His body jerked, and I twisted my hands in my lap as misery engulfed me.
“My parents were Carmine and Sofia Franco,” I continued. “I don't know who they were, and that has wrecked me every day of my life.”
Noah's face became frozen, a polite expression etched on a piece of stone.
“We were shot at that night. He was hit in the head, and my mom was hit in the chest. That's why we flipped, why I cut myself getting out, and why I went into foster care. But the police tried to tell me it was a deer, and that I had to change my name and move upstate to protect me from the press. I didn't realize until I was older that their story was a lie.”
“Your last name is Franco?”
I didn't recognize his voice, and that gutted me. Somehow, I knew my truth would destroy us. He wasn't even focused on the details of the accident and my subsequent childhood agony, but on my given name.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I've been trying to find the right way to tell you because you deserve to know. But tonight, in my dream, the blond man in that picture took the place of my father in the car. And I-I needed you to know.”
Slowly, he got off my bed and looked down at me. “You're positive your father died?”
“At this point, I'm not positive of anything.” Sucking in a deep breath, I added, “So if he did, then this guy is somehow related to the Francos. He looks too much like my dad not to be.”
Every inch of him turned to ice. His eyes, his expression, and even his posture. “You never knew what your father did? Or who he was?”
Heart pounding, my throat dry as the desert, I tried to accept what was happening to us. “I suffered a traumatic brain injury from the accident. All my pre-ten-year-old memories are fuzzy and often mixed with the here and now.”
“Thank you for telling me the truth.”
It was said so robotically that I couldn't stop the flood of tears. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.”
“No, it's understandable.” He backed up. “I have to talk to my father right away.”
“Of course.”
When he walked out, I was afraid that was the last time I'd ever see him.
Chapter Twenty-two
Noah
As I raced back to the Ritz, my thoughts scattered into a million different directions. I had to talk to my father immediately, especially if we could identify the man who was working with the Lombardis. I’d been told the Franco family line ended with Carmine, so unless he somehow survived the hit, then who the fuck were we dealing with?
And, worst of all, absolutely worst of fucking all, was knowing what would happen if Sailor ever learned the truth about that night.
I hated leaving her abruptly in her time of need, but I couldn't sit there and play devoted boyfriend, not with the revelations going on inside my head, and not with the huge effort it took to keep it all off my face. If she saw my inner turmoil, she’d know before I had the chance to do damage control.
I didn't even know how I felt about it. Sad, angry, disbelieving, all that and more flew through me as I tried to concentrate on the road.
Dad and I had been having a celebratory dinner with Leo Russo, thanking him for his help in proving the Lombardis had gone back on their word. The Russo family had guaranteed they’d back us up on any war that came about as a result of our upcoming revenge, and I didn't even care if that was simplybecause they would gain more territory with another family down.
I hit the preset number for my father and listened to the ringtone over the car’s speaker. It rang too many times, and I hung up in frustration. He must still be in the dining room downstairs, most likely getting drunk with Leo.
The valet took my car from me, and I barely spared him a thank you as I sprinted into the lobby. Several heads turned to stare at me as I moved too fast for decorum, but I pushed past the greeter at the entrance of the restaurant to locate the table I’d just left not even an hour ago.
“Dad,” I said as I approached.
“Son,” he responded, holding his glass up to me in a mock toast. “Sailor must be okay, then?”
Not even close. “Sort of. I need to speak to you urgently.”
“Can’t it wait until we’ve finished our drinks?”
