Sandro turned his laptop so we could see the screen. "I got a call from our contact in Chicago twenty minutes ago. Winston's been talking to the FBI. Specifically, he's claiming he has 'eyes inside the Vitales.' That he can make the case against you come back to life if they give him a better deal."
My stomach dropped.
"He's lying," Matteo said flatly. "He's desperate. Trying to seem valuable so they keep him in protective custody."
"Maybe. But there's a new agent handling this. Rebecca Watson's suspended, so they assigned someone else. Guy named David Reeves. He's younger. Ambitious. Looking to make his name." Sandro looked around the table. "And he's interested in Winston's claims. Interested enough to start digging."
The fear in my chest turned to ice.
They were going to think it was me. Of course they were. I was Winston's son. I'd only been here six weeks. I was the obvious suspect.
I opened my mouth to defend myself. To explain that I would never—
"We know it's not you, Julian," Sandro said before I could speak.
I froze. Stared at him.
"What?"
"It's not you. That's not even a question." Sandro's voice was matter-of-fact. Certain. "You've proven yourself. Given us everything. Helped us destroy your father's empire. You're not playing double agent."
"Anyone who betrayed their own father to help us isn't suddenly going to turn around and work for the FBI," Luca added. "That's not how this works."
Matteo nodded. "You're one of us now. We trust you."
They trusted me. Without question. Without suspicion. Without demanding I prove my loyalty.
My father had never trusted me. Not once in twenty-one years. Every conversation had been a test. Every action scrutinized for signs of betrayal. Every relationship monitored because he assumed I'd use it against him.
These men had known me six weeks and trusted me completely.
I felt my throat tighten. Forced myself to breathe evenly. This wasn't the time to get emotional.
Under the table, Elio's hand squeezed mine again. When I glanced at him, his expression was soft. Understanding.
"Thank you," I managed. "For believing me."
"We're just acknowledging facts,” Sandro said. “You're not the mole. Which means Winston either planted someone months ago as insurance, or he's completely lying. We need to figure out which."
"If he planted someone, it was before Julian ran," Elio said. "Before any of this started. Insurance policy in case things went wrong with the Bianchi-FBI arrangement."
"That's Winston's style," I said quietly. "He always had backup plans. Contingencies. He never fully trusted anyone, including his own people. He would've had informants everywhere. Even in his enemies' organizations."
"Then we need to find them," Sandro said. "Immediately. Before Agent Reeves gets convinced Winston's telling the truth and decides to pursue a new case."
I sat up straighter. "I can help. I'm good at finding patterns in data. Financial irregularities. That's what my forensic accounting internship was for. Let me look through your employee records. Financial transactions. Access logs. If someone's being paid by my father, there'll be a trail."
Elio looked at me. "Julian, you don't have to—"
"I want to help. Please. Let me be useful."
Sandro considered this. Looked at Elio. "Use every resource we have. Find the leak. Fast."
An hour later, I sat in Elio's security office surrounded by files and spreadsheets and data.
We'd pulled employee records going back two years. Financial information, access logs, attendance patterns, everything we could think of that might show unusual activity.
Elio worked beside me, reviewing security footage and communication logs. We made a good team. He handled the security angle. I handled the financial analysis.
