Chapter 9 - MY FATHER’S LAST NIGHT
My father’s death had shaped my entire life.
Officially, Anthony Blackwell died in a warehouse fire during a gang war.
I was twenty-four.
Raymond found me outside the hospital afterward.
He put both hands on my shoulders and said the words that turned me from a son into a successor.
Your father is gone.
You lead now.
For years, I believed Raymond had saved the family.
Now Grace was telling me he had created the vacancy.
“How do you know?”
She looked out the SUV window.
“Your father found out Raymond was working with Victor.”
“He confronted him at the steel mill.”
“Anna saw Raymond leave.”
Anna nodded.
“I was twenty.”
“I was hiding in one of Victor’s cars.”
“I heard them arguing.”
“What did my father say?”
Anna looked at me.
“He told Raymond he was finished.”
“That he would expose him.”
“Then?”
“I heard a gunshot.”
My chest tightened.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Victor would have killed me.”
I looked away.
There were too many ghosts in one night.
My father.
Grace.
The family I thought I had.
The family I actually had.
We returned to the townhouse just before dawn.
I doubled security.
Changed every code.
Removed every employee Daniel had hired.
Then I sat with Emma in the kitchen.
She couldn’t sleep.
Neither could I.
She ate toast while I drank coffee.
After several minutes, she looked at me.
“Was Lily always rich?”
The question surprised me.
“Yes.”
“Did she know?”
I almost smiled.
“She knows she has too many shoes.”
Emma looked down at her taped sneakers.
I hated myself for noticing.
“Do I have to be rich now?”
“No.”
She frowned.
“But if you’re my dad…”
“You don’t have to become anything.”
“You get to be Emma.”
She thought about that.
“Can I still keep Mr. Bear?”
I looked at the ragged teddy.
“Mr. Bear stays.”
“What about Aunt Anna?”
“She stays too, if she wants.”
“And Mom?”
That word still sounded strange.
I looked toward the doorway.
Grace stood there.
Emma saw her.
The room went quiet.
Grace sat across from her.
“I know you’re angry.”
Emma nodded.
“You should be.”
Emma looked surprised.
Grace continued.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“But I still hurt you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Emma stared at her toast.
“Will you leave again?”
Grace’s face broke.
“No.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
Emma looked at me.
“Does everybody break promises?”
I answered first.
“Sometimes.”
She frowned.
“That’s a bad answer.”
“It’s a true one.”
She considered that.
Then reached across the table.
Grace took her hand.
For the first time, the three of us sat together.
Not healed.
Not whole.
But real.
Then my phone rang.
Federal agents were at my front gate.
Twenty-three of them.
With a warrant for my arrest.
Grace stood.
“They moved faster than I expected.”
I looked through the security feed.
Black SUVs.
Body armor.
Agents.
And at the front stood Assistant U.S. Attorney Nathan Cole.
A man I had known for years.
He held the warrant personally.
I walked outside before my men could argue.
Cole looked almost apologetic.
“Marcus Blackwell.”
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Grace Blackwell.”
I looked directly at him.
“Interesting.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
I stepped aside.
Grace walked through the front door.
The entire federal team froze.
Cole’s face lost all color.
Grace folded her arms.
“I’d like to hear how my husband murdered me.”
For about three seconds, I thought we had won.
Then Cole slowly looked at Raymond’s forged case file.
And shook his head.
“This changes the murder charge.”
“But not the rest.”
“What rest?”
He handed me the second warrant.
Racketeering.
Conspiracy.
Money laundering.
Weapons trafficking.
Charges carrying enough time to bury me alive.
I scanned the documents.
Then I saw the signature of the government’s primary witness.
Daniel Cross.
My former security chief.
Cole lowered his voice.
“Marcus, Daniel has been building this case for nine years.”
And attached to his statement was one final accusation.
May you like
That I had ordered the murder of Anthony Blackwell.
My own father.
