Not a single relative in the room looked surprised.
Tony's aunt even stepped forward and stroked the boy's hair.
"He's the spitting image of the Hensons. Those eyes, that brow line, he looks exactly like Tony did as a kid."
His uncle chimed in right behind her.
"Blood doesn't lie. It was only a matter of time before he came home where he belongs."
I turned to look at Tony.
He was leaning back in his chair, tie loosened, watching Faith and her son with a lazy smile on his lips.
"Tony, what is this?"
He dropped the smile. Stood up. Walked over to Faith and wrapped his arm around her waist.
"Exactly what it looks like."
"Five years of faking amnesia. I'm done."
He jabbed a finger toward my face, his voice bouncing off every wall in the banquet hall.
"You managed me like I was an idiot. No bars. No friends. You interrogated me over every single drink at a business dinner."
"You think that's love? You're a control freak!"
I stared at his hand resting on Faith's waist.
"Five years. You've been lying to me for five years."
Tony let out a cold scoff, pulled a document from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and slapped it on the table.
"So what if I have?"