PORTIA
“You should call him,” Jayla says. “It’s just a call to Dad, sissy. You’ve done it a thousand times.”
“This isn’t a normal call, Jayla.”
“I know that.” She softens from where she’s sitting beside me on the bed. “But sitting on it isn’t going to make the truth go away. Better to know than to keep imagining every possible version of what it could mean.”
Rafael leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the exchange with composed scrutiny.
“Go ahead and add your two cents,” I say. “I can practically hear your thoughts.”
“I think it’s too soon,” he answers. “We don’t know how deep this goes yet. If you call him and reveal what you’ve found and there’s more to this than an old investment, you’re tipping our hand before we understand what we’re actually dealing with.”
“So what? I just sit here wondering forever?”
“I’m saying be strategic about it. Feel him out without showing your cards completely.” Rafael pushes off the doorframe, crossing the room to sit on my other side. “You’re good at this. Use it.”
“He’s not a source, Rafael. He’s my father.”
“That’s exactly why you need to be careful. Sources you can walk away from if it goes wrong; family’s a lot more complicated.”
Jayla shakes her head. “He’s not wrong that it’s high stakes, but overthinking this isn’t going to protect us from whatever the truth is. Sometimes you just have to rip the Band-Aid off.”
I look between them, two people who love me giving opposite advice, both convinced they’re right. My mind goes to every instinct I’ve built over a decade-long career as a journalist.
Rafael’s right that strategy matters. But Jayla’s not wrong either. Some truths only get heavier the longer you carry them unspoken.
“I’m calling him,” I say finally. “Jayla’s right. I can’t keep living with the question hanging over us.”
Rafael doesn’t argue further, merely nodding out of respect for my decision. He reaches over and squeezes my free hand. His way of saying he supports the decision even if he wouldn’t have made it himself.
He and Jayla give me a moment alone so I can place the call. I spend a minute or two steadying the nerves quaking in my stomach and then dial his number on the burner phone I’ve been using.
Dad picks up on the second ring.
“There’s my cupcake!” he says brightly. “Your mother and I were just talking about you. We saw a report on the news about the manhunt to locate your kidnapper. You sure this isn’t as serious as authorities are making it out to be?”
“I’m safe, Dad. So is Jayla. You can’t trust what the news says right now. They’ve got the story about what’s going on wrong.”
“How much longer are you going to be gone?” he asks. “Sweetheart, whatever mob craziness your investigative reporting has gotten you into—”
“That’s not it at all, Dad. I didn’t call for a lecture either. I called to check up on you and Mom. How are you two doing?”
“Can’t complain. Your mother’s driving me crazy trying to plan another cruise. We just got back from the Caribbean! I told her she needs to let my wallet recover.”
“Right, what else is new? You two practically live on cruise ships now that you’re retired.”
“You and Jay are always welcome to join us, sweetie. When you stop being reported as missing in the morning paper.”
“It’s complicated right now, Dad. I’ll explain everything when I can.”
“You know your mother and I don’t need explanations. We just want you safe.”
I draw a breath at his warm words, preparing myself. “Dad, I need to ask you a question. Do you remember having involvement with a company connected to the Bellucci family? An early investment, years back?”
The silence on the other end stretches half a second too long.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Because your name came up. Jerrod James, listed as an early investor. I double, triple checked to make sure it was the right Jerrod James, and… um, it was. I need to know what that means.”
Another pause follows where Dad remains quiet and Mom’s voice trickles in from the background. She’s calling out to ask him where he’s put the car keys. She forgot her reading glasses inside.
“Dad?” I prompt.
“I’m still here, cupcake,” he answers slowly. “I guess I should’ve figured you’d eventually ask. I did some business with them once. Years ago.”
“Did you know about the Belluccis’ crime empire?”
“You know there’s always been speculation around Newport. About the Belluccis, yes, but other wealthy Italian families too. In the business world, sometimes you don’t put stock into rumors. It was a financial thing, cupcake. An investment opportunity a colleague brought to me.”
“But you didn’t know for sure they were mafia…”
“Not at the time of the deal, absolutely not. By the time I understood what kind of family they were, I made the decision to never do business with them again. You know I prefer to keep my hands clean.”
“Did you know about my birth parents?” I ask. “That the Belluccis killed them?”
“Portia, what kind of quest—”
“Dad, did you know they killed my birth parents? That they killed Jayla’s?”
“I had no clue!” he says, offense in his tone. “How could you ask me that? We were close friends. Your birth parents asked me and your mother to look after you if anything ever happened to them.”
“Then why did you never tell me and Jayla about them?” I press. “Why didn’t you ever tell us that after all these years? You let us grow up believing you had no connection to our birth parents.”
“It’s easier said than done, cupcake. We wanted to minimize your trauma as much as possible. What you and Jay went through… it was a lot for any young girls to go through.”
“I guess so…” I murmur glumly.
“Are you done with the interrogation, or do I have more crimes to answer for?” he asks.
“Portia, it was a dangerous time. Your parents were murdered by a mob boss. The same mob boss I’d happened to do some business with years before.
My priority was keeping you and Jayla safe.
Your mother and I just wanted to make sure the Belluccis never came to finish the job. ”
I trade goodbyes with Dad, who reminds me he and Mom love us.
It’s only been a minute since hanging up when the door to my room creaks open and Jayla pokes her head through. Something tells me she never went very far even after leaving the room.
“Well?” she prompts.
I give a shrug, tossing my phone across the bed. “He admits to doing business with them. Some kind of investment years ago.”
“I’ll never get over how small the world can be, even in a big city like Newport.”
“He claims he didn’t know who they really were at first.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, he’s right that rumors are rumors.
None of the Belluccis have ever been behind bars because nothing’s ever stuck to them.
Authorities have never proven they’re a crime family.
But how likely is it that my adopted dad did business with Vito Bellucci and then it just so happens that my bio dad was killed by him? ”
Rafael’s wandered back into the room only footsteps after Jayla. Hands in his pants pockets, he considers what I’ve said.
“It’s true that many people in the business world do work with less than savory individuals,” he says. “Many companies have done business with me, and my hands aren’t any cleaner than Don Vito’s.”
“But…?” I trail off, sensing more.
“But real coincidences are hard to come by. I wouldn’t assume anything from our past is a coincidence.”
“You think there’s more he’s not telling me.”
“I think it’s worth finding out. Maybe not tonight or even tomorrow. But eventually, yes. There’s more to this than an old one-time investment.”
I nod slowly, the fear I’ve been holding back rushing in at once.
Whatever my father’s told himself to sleep at night these past two decades, I have a sinking feeling the real story is far worse than anything he admitted tonight.
Jayla curls up beside me on the bed, resting her head against my shoulder like she used to when we were kids. “Whatever it turns out to be, we’ll get through it together as sisters. The way we always have.”
“I keep thinking about every birthday or holiday or family dinner,” I say. “How much of it was real, Jayla? How much of our childhood was just him managing a guilty conscience?”
“All of it was real. At least our happiness was. Nobody can take that away from us.”
“I want to believe that too.”
“Who’s stopping you, sissy? Both things can be true. You can love Dad and our childhood while also wanting to get to the truth.” She nudges me in the side before standing. “I’m going to bed. Turns out when you have a mild concussion, you get a lot of headaches.”
She leaves us alone, and Rafael hardly waits before he claims me for himself. He eases me into his arms, and I happily oblige, dropping my head to his chest.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, “your dad really could be telling the truth. It’s possible everything else that’s happened had nothing to do with him. It’s possible there’s more to the story that he doesn’t even know.”
I close my eyes, letting his heartbeat anchor me, unwilling to face the rest of what tomorrow will demand of me.