The Man Jonah Called Father
Chapter 08 - The Man Jonah Called Father
Jonah disconnected the call.
Not because the signal failed.
Because his hand hit the button.
Hard.
Stella stared.
“Jonah.”
“No.”
He turned the chair.
“Not now.”
“That sounded important.”
“I said not now.”
He drove out of the library.
No one followed.
Not even Stella.
That mattered.
She wanted to.
Instead, she looked at Frankie.
“Who is his father?”
Frankie shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Helena did.
Stella saw it.
“You know.”
Helena’s eyes closed.
“I know what Matteo believed.”
“Which is?”
“Jonah’s mother had an affair.”
“With?”
“Victor.”
Silence.
Stella almost laughed because sometimes stories became so cruel they passed through absurdity.
“Victor Kane.”
“Yes.”
“The man who came here with guns.”
“Yes.”
“The man threatening him.”
“Yes.”
“Jonah’s father may be Victor.”
“Yes.”
Frankie swore.
“You knew?”
“No.”
Helena rubbed her forehead.
“Matteo found letters after Anthony died.”
“From Jonah’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“Is she alive?”
“No. Cancer. Twenty years ago.”
Stella looked toward the hallway.
Jonah had lost mother.
Father.
Brother, supposedly.
Body.
Mobility.
And now possibly his own name inside his family tree.
“Did Victor know?”
“Matteo thought so.”
“Did Anthony?”
“Yes.”
“Then why raise Jonah?”
Helena gave her a tired look.
“Because ownership is not always about blood.”
That sentence made Stella cold.
She waited twenty minutes.
Then went to Jonah’s bedroom.
Door open.
He sat by the window.
Lights off.
She knocked anyway.
“Can I come in?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
She entered.
Did not touch the blinds.
Did not turn on a lamp.
Jonah looked at his hands.
“Did Helena tell you?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“You left us with the question.”
He laughed without humor.
“Victor.”
“Maybe.”
“Do not say maybe.”
Stella sat on the chair across from him.
“Then we test.”
His eyes lifted.
“What?”
“DNA.”
“I don’t need—”
“You don’t need the answer?”
“No.”
She waited.
Jonah looked away.
“Yes.”
“Then test.”
“What if he is?”
Stella thought.
“He was still the man who entered your house with guns.”
Jonah looked at her.
“And Anthony?”
“Still the man who raised you.”
“Badly.”
“Apparently.”
Something close to a smile.
Then gone.
Jonah looked toward his legs.
“Do you know what I hate most?”
“The wheelchair?”
“No.”
Stella waited.
“The way people think this made me less dangerous.”
“That seems useful.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Being underestimated.”
Jonah looked at her.
“You stood in front of guns.”
“I never said I was smart.”
His mouth shifted.
Then his eyes lowered.
“I don’t know who I am if half of what I inherited was a lie.”
Stella leaned back.
“That is dramatic.”
He stared.
She continued.
“You are not a blood type.”
“Easy for you.”
“No.”
Her voice softened.
“My father may have been murdered. My old boss manipulated my career. Everyone in this house knew pieces of my family history before I did.”
Jonah said nothing.
“Who you are is the part you keep choosing after the information arrives.”
He looked at her.
Something moved between them.
Deeper now.
Dangerous.
Jonah’s voice became quiet.
“You should leave.”
Her chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Because you are becoming part of this.”
“I already am.”
“That is not what I mean.”
She understood.
Attraction.
Not spoken.
There.
Jonah looked away first.
“You are my caregiver.”
“Yes.”
“That creates a line.”
Stella felt unexpected respect.
“Yes.”
“I will not cross it.”
“Good.”
The answer came faster than her feelings.
Jonah almost smiled.
“You sound disappointed.”
“You sound arrogant.”
“Occupational.”
She laughed.
For ten seconds, the room became easier.
Then Frankie knocked.
“We have something.”
He held a tablet.
Security footage.
Six months old.
The night Jonah was shot.
A parking garage camera recovered from an off-site backup.
Timestamp 8:41 p.m.
Jonah, walking.
Stella stared.
It felt strange seeing him move.
He crossed toward a black sedan.
Another man stepped out.
Victor.
Jonah looked at the screen.
“I don’t remember this.”
The video had no audio.
Victor handed Jonah an envelope.
They argued.
Jonah grabbed Victor’s coat.
Victor shoved him.
Then pointed upward.
Jonah looked toward the roof.
The sniper fired.
Jonah collapsed.
Victor dropped beside him.
Not attacking.
Covering him.
A second shot struck the car.
Victor dragged Jonah behind the wheel well.
Frankie stared.
“Victor saved him.”
Jonah’s face emptied.
The man who had invaded the house.
Threatened him.
Mocked his wheelchair.
Had also pulled him out of the sniper’s line of fire.
The footage continued.
Victor pressed something into Jonah’s hand.
A key.
Then fled as Frankie’s security vehicle entered frame.
Stella looked at Jonah.
“Where is the key?”
“I don’t know.”
Frankie rewound.
Zoomed.
The object had a red plastic tag.
Numbers.
317.
Stella’s heart jumped.
“My father’s fishing locker.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?”
Patrick had rented harbor locker 317 every summer.
Stella remembered because she had forgotten the combination once and sat on the dock for two hours.
The old locker.
The place Frankie said had been emptied.
Jonah whispered:
“Victor gave me Patrick Quinn’s key.”
May you like
Stella looked at the footage again.
And for the first time, the man they had called an enemy looked suspiciously like someone trying to keep Jonah alive.
