The Italian

I nod. “Hello.”

Lorenzo exhales heavily. “There are some things that you don’t know, son. You have been protected up until now, but with the passing of Enrico Ferrara, you must be told of your heritage.”

I frown.

“Your father—”

“Leave my father out of this,” I snap.

He glares at me, unimpressed that I interrupted him. “Your father’s name wasn’t Lindon.”

I frown harder now.

“Your father was Giuliano Ferrara.”

“What?”

Lorenzo and

the other men exchange worried looks.

“It’s a very complicated story.” He pauses as he searches for the right wording. “Giuliano, your father lived a double life—one with your mother and you, and one with his wife and their three children.” “What? That’s ridiculous!” I scoff. “He wasn’t married to someone else. You have the wrong man.”

“We don’t. These are your two brothers, Giuliano.” He gestures to the two men and they smile sadly. “Andrea and Matteo.”

My eyes flicker between the three of them. “You’re lying.” I stand abruptly.

Lorenzo stands, too, and he pushes me back into the chair. “Your other brother was murdered last week. His name was Enrico Ferrara.”

My eyes widen as I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears.

The floor moves beneath me.

“You have been left in your father’s will to take over management of the Ferrara family empire.”

My face falls. “It’s okay,” Andrea says softly. “You won’t be alone, Giuliano.”

“We will be here every step of the way to train you and to help you with the transition,” Lorenzo says.

I stare at him as the walls close in.

That means…

She’s my sister.

Afterword

Thank you so much for reading.

You are making my dreams come true.

Find me at tlswanauthor.com

Acknowledgments

There are no words meaningful enough to thank my wonderful team.

I don’t write my books alone. I have an army.