The Man Josephine Called Dad

Chapter 03 - The Man Josephine Called Dad

Wyatt’s surgery began at 3:07 a.m.

There are hours in a hospital that do not behave like normal hours. They stretch. They repeat themselves. A person can stare at a clock for ten minutes and watch the hand move only once.

Josephine sat between Eleanor and Raphael beneath a television no one had turned on.

For nearly an hour, her aunt said nothing.

Then Josephine asked, “How long?”

Eleanor looked down at her hands.

“How long have you known Dad worked for the Orsinis?”

“Since before you were born.”

Josephine gave a small, stunned nod.

“And you let me work in their house for two years.”

“I tried to stop you.”

“You told me the commute was too long.”

“It was.”

“That wasn’t the reason.”

“No.”

Raphael watched Josephine’s face close by degrees. He knew that expression. It was the face of a person moving furniture in her mind, trying to make room for a truth that would not fit.

Eleanor rubbed her palms together.

“Sam drove for Vittorio Orsini when he was young. Your father was good with cars. Better with people. He could walk into a room where everyone was angry and somehow leave with everyone feeling foolish for yelling.”

Josephine’s mouth trembled.

“That sounds like him.”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

Eleanor looked at Raphael.

He did not rescue her from the question.

“Dileia started asking Samuel for rides that were not on the schedule,” Eleanor said. “To doctors. To a lawyer. Once to a bank in Connecticut.”

Raphael frowned. “What lawyer?”

“I never knew.”

“Why doctors?”

Eleanor’s eyes filled.

“That I do know.”

Josephine leaned forward.

Before Eleanor could answer, the waiting-room door opened and Gideon Marsh walked in.

He carried a paper cup in one hand and a thick manila envelope in the other.

The moment Eleanor saw him, she stood.

“You.”

Gideon stopped.

Raphael looked between them.

“You know each other too?”

Eleanor’s voice hardened. “He brought the money.”

Josephine’s face went pale.

“What money?”

Gideon set the coffee down.

“Mrs. Hartley—”

“Don’t call me that like we’re old friends.”

“Eleanor,” he said quietly.

The familiarity was worse.

Josephine rose.

“Aunt Ellie, what money?”

Eleanor looked suddenly older.

“After your father died, a man came to the house. He gave your mother an envelope.”

Gideon’s jaw tightened.

“Vittorio sent it.”

“How much?”

“Enough to pay the mortgage. Enough to keep food on the table after Sam was gone.”

Josephine stared at Gideon.

“What was it for?”

No one answered.

Her voice rose, though not much. Josephine was not a woman who shouted.

“What was it for?”

Gideon’s eyes moved to Raphael.

Raphael said, “Answer her.”

Gideon drew in a breath.

“Silence.”

The word landed without decoration.

Josephine sat down hard.

Eleanor reached for her, but Josephine pulled away.

“You took hush money?”

“We took survival money.”

“There is no difference.”

“There is when two children need food.”

“Three?”

Silence again.

Josephine looked at Eleanor.

“There were only me and—”

She stopped.

Raphael noticed.

“Me and Wyatt,” she finished.

Eleanor closed her eyes.

Raphael felt every instinct in him sharpen.

“How old was Wyatt when Samuel died?” he asked.

Josephine answered automatically. “He was a baby.”

“How old?”

“Seven months.”

Raphael looked at Eleanor.

She refused to meet his eyes.

Something moved in his memory.

Dileia, eleven years ago, standing in the kitchen with one hand on the counter, refusing wine at dinner.

Dileia missing Christmas brunch because she was “sick.”

Dileia wearing loose sweaters in August and rolling her eyes when anyone commented.

He had been running half his father’s business then. He came home late, left early, and believed that knowing where his sister lived meant he knew her life.

His stomach turned.

“Eleanor.”

“No.”

“Was Dileia pregnant?”

Josephine looked at him.

The color left Eleanor’s face.

Gideon whispered, “Raphael.”

He turned.

Gideon was staring at the floor.

That was all the answer Raphael needed.

“You knew.”

Gideon’s shoulders lowered.

“I knew after.”

Raphael crossed the room so quickly that Josephine stood between them without thinking.

Not to protect Gideon.

To stop whatever came next.

Raphael stopped two feet away.

His fury did not look like shouting. It looked like stillness.

“You knew my sister had a child.”

Gideon’s voice was rough. “I knew she had delivered a child. I did not know where he was.”

Josephine slowly turned toward Eleanor.

“No.”

Eleanor’s tears began to fall.

“No,” Josephine said again.

Raphael looked at her.

She shook her head.

“Wyatt is my brother.”

Eleanor covered her mouth.

“He is.”

“That is not what you’re saying.”

“He is your brother in every way that matters.”

Josephine’s breath caught.

Raphael felt the room tilt beneath him.

Eleanor reached into her purse again and pulled out a small envelope, yellowed at the corners.

“I promised your mother I would never open this unless Wyatt’s life was in danger.”

Josephine stared at it.

“What is that?”

“Something Claire made me keep.”

“My mother?”

“Yes.”

Eleanor placed the envelope on the chair between them.

On the front, in faded blue ink, was Josephine’s mother’s handwriting.

FOR JOSEPHINE, IF THE TRUTH BECOMES NECESSARY.

Josephine did not touch it.

No one did.

For nearly a minute, the envelope sat there as if it were alive.

Then the surgery update phone rang on the wall.

Josephine jumped.

A nurse answered, listened, then turned toward them.

“Wyatt is stable. The repair is underway.”

Everyone breathed again.

Everyone except Raphael.

He was still looking at the envelope.

Josephine finally picked it up.

Inside was a birth certificate.

The mother’s name had been blacked out in ink.

The father’s name was blank.

The baby’s name was Wyatt Samuel Hartley.

But stapled behind the certificate was a hospital bracelet.

The plastic had gone cloudy with age.

Printed on it were two words.

BABY ORSINI.

Josephine’s fingers began to shake.

Raphael did not move.

Eleanor whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Josephine looked up at Raphael with tears sliding silently down her face.

And for the first time since she had knocked on his door, she did not look like his employee.

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She looked like the woman holding proof that her little brother might be his nephew.

**But the bracelet was only the first secret Claire Hartley had hidden inside that envelope.**