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“Was Ashton part of the Trogyn when we were in high school?”

Milton nodded. “His entire family was.”

That explained why he believed he was untouchable and could do whatever he wanted without getting into trouble. If Idestroyed the Lindor family, that would be a tremendous blow to the crime organization.

“Do you know any members of The Trogyn besides Ashton?”

“No.”

Milton was a small fish in The Trogyn. He was replaceable. I wasn’t surprised he knew little details. The Trogyn only offered important information to elite members.

“Do you know who’s running HADES?”

“Dr. Nico Messina. He’s creepy. Kind of out there, you know?”

“The doctor who works at Brigham and Women’s Hospital and teaches at Harvard Medical?”

“I think so.”

Dr. Nico Messina was in residency when I was in the hospital. Had Nico killed Dr. Noah Marks, who’d cared for me?

My phone buzzed. I picked it up and glanced at the screen before placing it face down again. My men had confirmed that the three men waiting for Milton had been apprehended and were locked in a room waiting for me.

Milton glanced around nervously, probably wondering where his men were.

“You can stop looking for them. No one’s coming up here.”

His eyes widened. “What do you want from me?”

Initially, I’d wanted him dead. But a new idea percolated in my mind. I could delay his death a little longer.

“If you want to live, you need to help me.” I steepled my fingers. “Why did you change your name and pretend to be French?”

“Have you heard of the Claude family?”

“No clue. Who are they?”

“An extremely wealthy family in France with ties everywhere. They come from old money. They’re connected to other wealthy families all over the world.”

Perhaps Orion would know them. The Reimann family was also a powerful banking family with old money.

“Ashton got me a gig to work for The Trogyn. But for them to trust me, I had to show my allegiance by becoming part of their ‘family.’ They gave me a new name and told me to act like I was Jean-Claude Dumas. They’re very proud of their heritage.”

“And you sold yourself for money,” I said. “Why aren’t you just Jean-Claude?”

“Because there are too many of them.”

“What else do you know that can save your life today?”

He linked his trembling hands on the table and looked at me. Then he poured out everything he knew, hoping I would have mercy on him.

Shock, confusion, and rage collided inside me. But I had to confirm everything before acting on it. For all I knew, Milton was playing both sides.

My men brought him to a soundproof room down the hall. I turned off the recording on my phone and remained seated for a few minutes. The events of that fateful day played in my head like an awful movie. I saw the faces of my father, mother, and sister. What I was about to do was for them and for me. It wouldn’t bring them back, but it would give them a sliver of justice.

I rose from my seat and headed toward the room. Milton sat in a metal chair at a table with a tray covered by a cloth.

I approached him. “Which hand recorded the beating?”