Chapter 14 - Emily’s Father Was Not Who Marcus ExpectedMarcus had imagined Emily’s father hundreds of times.
A stranger Anna met after running.
Someone kind.
Someone dangerous.
Someone dead.
Never someone connected to the violin.
A specialist examined the internal label.
The violin had been opened and repaired years ago.
Behind the paper maker’s label, faint pencil markings remained.
Initials:
J.K.
A date.
Ten months before Emily’s birth.
Marcus stared.
J.K.
Emily looked at him.
“Is that you?”
Marcus almost choked.
“No.”
His surname Kane.
M.K.
But there had been another Kane.
Marcus’s younger brother.
Jonathan.
Jon Kane.
Richard looked at Marcus.
“Your brother?”
Marcus went cold.
Jon died seven years ago.
Overdose.
He and Anna knew each other.
Marcus knew that.
Not well, he believed.
Apparently wrong.
Emily watched Marcus’s face.
“You think he was my dad.”
Marcus sat down.
“I think we need proof.”
Jon had been thirty-six when Anna disappeared.
A musician.
Brilliant guitarist.
Addiction problems.
Marcus spent half his life dragging him out of trouble.
Anna often helped.
Maybe they became close.
Very close.
Marcus felt betrayal.
Then shame for feeling betrayed.
Anna owed him no romantic loyalty.
They had never been together.
He had loved her.
She knew.
She did not return it that way.
Richard asked:
“Did Jonathan know about the Hale problems?”
Marcus thought.
“Yes.”
Too much.
Jon occasionally drove Anna places when Marcus was working.
He could have helped her disappear.
Marcus suddenly remembered the night Anna vanished.
Jon was unreachable for three days.
He claimed he had relapsed.
Maybe that was not all.
They located Jon’s old storage unit records.
Long closed.
But his belongings had gone to Marcus after death.
Boxes still sat in Marcus’s garage.
He had never opened some.
They did now.
Music equipment.
Old clothes.
Letters.
Then one photograph.
Anna visibly pregnant.
Jon beside her.
His hand resting over her stomach.
Marcus sat on the garage floor.
Emily stared.
“That’s him?”
“Yes.”
“Do I look like him?”
Marcus looked at her eyes.
Maybe.
He had always seen Anna.
Now he saw Jon’s crooked smile.
The possibility hurt beautifully.
Emily asked:
“Was he bad?”
Marcus took time.
“He was sick.”
“With what?”
“Addiction.”
“Did he hurt people?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did he love Mom?”
Marcus looked at the photograph.
“Yes.”
That much was obvious.
Beneath it was an envelope.
For Marcus.
His brother’s handwriting.
Marcus opened it.
If you’re reading this, I probably messed up again.
Marcus laughed despite himself.
Then the letter changed.
Anna is pregnant.
The baby is mine.
Marcus closed his eyes.
Emily watched silently.
Jon knew Anna was in danger.
He helped her leave Los Angeles.
He wanted to go too.
Anna refused.
Why?
Jon was using drugs again.
She loved him.
But she did not trust him around a newborn.
Jon accepted it.
Barely.
He promised to get sober and join them.
He failed.
Relapsed.
Then spent years trying to find them without exposing Anna.
Victor found Jon first.
Marcus’s eyes hardened.
The letter described a meeting.
Victor offered Jon money for Anna’s location.
Jon refused.
Victor threatened him.
Jon still refused.
Seven years ago, Jon overdosed.
Marcus had always believed accidental.
Now?
He did not know.
At the bottom of the box was a medical examiner copy Marcus had received years ago.
Nothing obviously suspicious.
But beside it—
a voicemail recording Jon saved on an old device.
Victor’s voice.
You don’t have to die for a woman who already left you.
Marcus felt ice.
Jon answered:
If you go near Anna or my daughter, I’ll bury everything your father did.
Marcus stopped the recording.
Emily stared.
“He knew about me.”
“Yes.”
“Did he want me?”
Marcus’s voice broke.
“Very much.”
Emily looked at the photograph again.
She did not cry immediately.
Then whispered:
“Mom told me my dad loved music.”
Marcus covered his face.
She knew.
Anna gave Emily pieces.
Not the name.
Maybe to protect Jon’s memory.
Maybe because addiction complicated childhood explanations.
Marcus handed Emily the picture.
“That’s yours.”
Emily held it carefully beside the violin.
For the first time, part of her identity had nothing to do with the Hale fortune.
Her father had been a broke musician with a damaged life.
And she smiled.
“He has dumb hair.”
Marcus laughed through tears.
“Absolutely.”
Then Richard’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Investigators had searched Victor’s Las Vegas suite more thoroughly.
They found a locked drive.
Inside were financial records.
Photographs.
Blackmail files.
And one video.
Recorded seven years ago.
Jon Kane.
Meeting Victor in a parking garage.
The night before Jon died.
Marcus’s stomach dropped.
“What happens in the video?”
Richard listened.
Then looked at Marcus.
“Jon gives Victor something.”
May you like
“What?”
“A page from the Blue Ledger.”
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