Page 97 of Tempted By the Devil

Ornella was no better off than her daughter had been. Every day was a struggle for the basics like food and shelter.

All details I’m able to dig up using the basic investigative tools at my fingertips.

But it proves virtually impossible finding out more about Rafael Calderone’s life. Other than the basic bare-bones type of info he’s already told me through our conversations, I’m not able to find much else.

Ornella Calderone passed away when Rafael was twenty-two. The last of his known blood relatives.

His father’s identity remains a mystery. Something tells me Rafael considers him as good as dead since he was never a part of his life anyway.

But all records on Rafael’s upbringing seem to disappear after the age of seventeen. Other than the death record for his grandmother, I can’t find anything else. No record he ever finished school. No proof he ever went on to a university. Not even any social media footprints left by a young Rafael, who would’ve been coming up during the early days of Myspace and Facebook.

It’s like Rafael was a poor, disenfranchised boy and then disappeared for many years only to re-emerge as an extremely successful and prominent businessman.

The first article I can find ever written about him dates back to 2013. It’s an Italian business outlet that penned a lengthy feature fawning over Sicily’s up-and-coming financial genius.

Il Nuovo Re Degli Affari: L’ascesa Di Rafael Calderone

I click on the article and let it load on my laptop screen. The translation feature pops up in the corner of my screen and asks if I’d like the text translated to English.

But reading the article word for word in English doesn’t give me any info I wasn’t already aware of.

The article’s a puff piece. A glowing appraisal of Rafael’s investments and his skyrocketing wealth over the past two years.

Digging some more, I find other articles just like it. Initially, from Italian outlets and then soon internationally. Only a few years later did the Newport Journal do an article on Rafael, who, at the time, was expanding his ventures to the States.

“There’s got to be more,” I whisper under my breath. I click around on the search results, frustration boiling over. “Where did he get his start? How did he go from dirt poor to a budding and respected businessman with no footprint anywhere? None of this makes sense.”

The noise from the newsroom makes it harder to concentrate like I need to be. It’s as chaotic as usual, with staff writers scurrying in every direction like the world is on fire. Meanwhile, it’s actually a Tuesday afternoon, which usually means a slow news day.

I sigh and snap shut my laptop. Baron walks by as I’m stuffing it inside my shoulder bag.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re heading out to the field in half an hour.”

“I’m not feeling well,” I fib. “I’ll take sick leave the rest of the day.”

“That’s your third time this month.”

“So what? You’re not my boss, Baron. You don’t get to dictate when I can use my sick hours. Cheng is here. He can cover for me.”

He’s pissed, his agitated energy rolling off him, as I finish gathering my things and walk out.

I might be ruffling too many feathers, but I’m not above leaving Metro News altogether. Now that my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend really—owns the company and we’ve broken up, it seems fitting that I should leave anyway.

I’ve gone back-and-forth over whether things are really over between Rafael and me.

I’m imperfect. I’m human.

Even as I’ve launched an investigation into his background, sometimes I find myself waffling on what to do. If I’ve overreacted and thrown around accusations that were unfair to him.

He’s always treated me well when we’re together. He respects me, spoils me, lavishes me with affection and his undivided attention. For Jayla’s birthday he’d gone out of his way to throw an extravagant party.

Just for my sister.

I can’t even imagine the trouble he’d go through formybirthday.

He bought my fledgling news network in order to save it. He donated millions to my favorite charity helping underprivileged children.

A truly terrible man would never do these things. He would never go through such trouble for a woman like me, would he?

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