Chapter 20
Taio
“Taio. I’m glad I caught you.”
Rina’s voice is clipped, professional—the tone she uses when something important is happening. I pull over into a gas station parking lot, not trusting myself to have this conversation while navigating New York traffic.
“What’s going on? Is everything okay with the agency?” I’m always worried my sudden exposure could have consequences for Rina and the team.
“The agency’s fine. We’re all enjoying your new headlines.” A hint of amusement creeps into her voice. “Something about a thirst-trap bodyguard?”
I groan. “Please tell me you didn’t see those.”
“I saw all of them. I am your biggest cyberstalker. My favorite was the Twitter thread comparing your jawline to various Greek statues. Very thorough research.” She pauses. “I have to say, when you told me you needed this sabbatical, I didn’t expect you to end up on TMZ.”
“That makes two of us.”
“How is the pop star treating you? Everything going okay with the assignment?”
There’s genuine concern beneath the teasing. Rina’s always looked out for me, ever since I stumbled into the agency years ago, desperate and ashamed and looking for any way to pay off my father’s debts. She gave me a chance when no one else would.
“It’s good. She’s good. Actually, that’s kind of an understatement, but—”
“Save it.” I can hear her smiling. “I can tell from all the pictures. You look at her like she hung the moon. It’s cute.”
“Like a manly cute though, right?”
“No. Not remotely. But that’s not why I called.” Her tone shifts, taking on an urgency I haven’t heard before. “This is about your father.”
My stomach tightens. “What about him?”
She takes a breath. “Something came across my desk a couple days ago. Some of my attorney friends spreading the usual drama. But a name stuck out to me.”
“What name?”
“Bryan Wright. The forensic accountant who testified about the fund transfers. The one whose documentation was the cornerstone of the prosecution’s case.”
“I remember him.” Wright had been devastating on the stand—calm, authoritative, armed with spreadsheets and bank records that made my father look guilty beyond any reasonable doubt. His testimony was what sealed the conviction.
“He’s been caught falsifying evidence in three other federal cases over the past eighteen months. Major scandal. The DOJ is reviewing every case he ever touched.”
I stop breathing for a moment. “What?”
“He was being paid off to cover up some bigger corporate scandals. He was purposely cherry-picking data, ignoring exculpatory evidence, drawing conclusions that weren’t supported by the actual numbers.
” Rina’s words come faster now, tumbling over each other.
“Taio, if his testimony in your father’s case was based on the same faulty analysis—”
“Then the conviction might not hold.”
“It’s grounds for appeal, at minimum. Potentially a new trial. And if the documentation he provided was fraudulent…” She trails off, letting me fill in the implications.
A new trial. The possibility of a reduced sentence. Maybe even release, with time served.
My dad could get out.
My body reacts before my mind can catch up—lungs forgetting how to work, fingers going numb against the steering wheel. I’m drowning in contradictions: part of me wants to call my father immediately, another part wants to throw the phone out the window and drive until I hit ocean.
“Taio? You still there?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” I drag my palm across my stubbled jaw, desperate for clarity that won’t come. “What do I do with this information?”
The line goes quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you check if the call dropped.
“Rina?”
“I’m here.” She sighs, and there’s something heavy in it. “Taio, I need to be honest with you about something. And I need you to hear it as someone who cares about you, not as a judgment.”
“Okay…”
“I’ve spent a lot of time with these case files.
I know what your father was convicted of.
I know the scope of it—the families he hurt, the lives he destroyed, the way he manipulated everyone around him for years.
” Another pause, and when she speaks again, her voice is careful.
Gentle. “I think he’s exactly where he should be. ”
Her words hollow me out from the inside.
“Rina—”
“I know. I know he’s your father. I know you love him.
And I’m not saying you shouldn’t—family is complicated, and you don’t get to choose who you’re related to.
But listen, your father is a grown man who made choices.
Bad choices. Choices that hurt a lot of people, including you.
And I think… I think sometimes the most loving thing you can do for someone is let them face the consequences of their actions.
Even when it’s hard. Even when it hurts.
As far as the information I just gave you, I couldn’t withhold that from you.
But we can pretend this conversation didn’t happen if you want. ”
Through the windshield, I watch strangers move through the gas station lot—a woman laughing into her phone, a man wrestling with a map, a teenager counting coins for a soda—all of them blissfully unaware that my entire world is being rewritten in real time.
“You think I shouldn’t pursue an appeal.”
“I think that’s not my decision to make.” The phone line crackles with her deliberate pause. “I’m simply telling you how I see it. What you do with this information is up to you. I’ll support you either way.”
“But you don’t think he deserves to get out.”
A long pause. “No. I don’t. I think he’s a man who’s never faced a real consequence in his life, and prison is the first time anyone’s told him no.
I think if he gets out, he’ll find new ways to manipulate, new people to hurt, new schemes to run.
Because that’s who he is.” She exhales. “But I also know that’s a terrible thing to say to someone about their father. And I’m sorry if it hurts.”
It does hurt. It hurts like hell. But beneath the sting, I feel my shoulders drop a fraction, as if someone’s finally lifted a weight I’d been pretending wasn’t there.
She’s voiced the thought I’ve been swallowing down every time it rises to the surface—the dangerous idea that’s been hiding in the corners of my mind during every prison visit.
Did Dad get what he deserved?
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit. “Part of me wants to pretend you never called. Just let his lawyers put two and two together if they stumble upon it. Maybe that’s destiny? Let it happen without my involvement.”
“You could do that.”
“But I can’t, can I? Because now I know. And not acting is still a choice.”
“True.” Rina’s voice is sad. “That’s the real bitch of it.”
I sit there for a long moment, watching life unfold around me.
A woman at the next pump curses under her breath as the nozzle sticks, while her toddler performs a slow-motion jailbreak from his car seat.
Their frustrations seem so beautifully uncomplicated.
What I wouldn’t give to wrestle a stubborn gas pump and a squirming kid versus make the decision on whether or not to save my dad.
Backward or forward?
Right or wrong?
I don’t know. But it’s time to decide.
“Can you forward the information to his legal team?” I regret the decision the moment the words leave my mouth. “As soon as you can.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m not sure about anything. But he’s my father. And if there’s a legitimate flaw in his conviction, he deserves to have it examined. Whatever I think about whether he should be in prison…that’s not my call to make. That’s what courts are for.”
“Okay.” Rina doesn’t argue, doesn’t push back. Just accepts my decision. “I’ll send everything to Bradley Castellano this afternoon. He goes to Sean’s weekly poker games.” There’s a bitter edge to her tone anytime Rina brings up her ex-husband. “I’ll make sure they move quick.”
“Thank you. And, Rina?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for being honest with me. Even when it’s hard to hear.”
“Always, Taio. Now go back to your pop star. I can’t wait to hear more about your life through the gossip columns.”
“Quit looking me up, Rina.”
Her laughter ripples through the phone, earnest and rich. “No promises.”
I sit in the parking lot for another ten minutes, trying to figure out who I am and what I want.
Then I start the car and drive back to the city.
I can’t fly to Miami tonight. There’s too much to figure out.
The lawyers are going to want to meet, likely to discuss an increased fee.
An appeal? A potential whole new trial? Shit.
That was hell the first time. Now we’re begging to do it again.
But if it means his freedom… I don’t have a choice here.
I wrench the wheel around and head back to my apartment, where stale air and a layer of neglect wait to welcome me home.
It’s almost midnight when I finally get home and call her.
She answers on the first ring, which means she was waiting. Probably staring at her phone the way I’ve been staring at mine, both of us orbiting each other across a thousand miles of empty space.
“Hey, you.” Her voice is soft, sleepy, relieved. “I was starting to think you fell off the planet.”
“Sorry. It’s been a day.” I sink onto my couch, suddenly exhausted. The apartment feels emptier than usual without Black Cat judging me from his perch on the bookshelf.
“Please tell me you’re at the world’s quietest airport,” Charlie says sullenly.
I exhale. “I’m at my apartment. Missed my flight. I can’t come back tonight.”
“Dammit, Taio,” she grouches out. “Okay, you know what? Let’s just clear the air right here and right now. You’re mad at me and you’re punishing me.”
“I’m doing no such thing.”