Chapter 5 - The Name on the Birth Certificate
Marcus Vale.
For seventeen years, Lila had associated that name with one thing.
Theft.
Now an official-looking document claimed the man who had stolen her painting might also have given her life.
“No.”
Lila’s voice barely carried across the Grand Gallery.
She read the birth certificate again.
Mother: Helena Marlowe.
Father: Marcus Vale.
The date was correct.
The place of birth was correct.
Even the hospital matched the few records Elias had kept in the battered blue folder Lila inherited after his supposed death.
Everything looked authentic.
Which made Lila trust it even less.
“This is fake.”
Julian took the document from her.
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe.”
She pointed at Marcus’s name.
“Elias was my father.”
“You just spent the last hour considering whether Sebastian might be.”
“That was before this.”
“That doesn’t make this false.”
She turned on him.
“Marcus stole my work.”
“I know.”
“He erased my name.”
“I know.”
“He found me when I was sixteen, right after Elias supposedly died. You think that was coincidence?”
“No.”
“Then if he was really my biological father, why didn’t he say anything?”
Julian looked at the document.
“That’s exactly the question we should be asking.”
Lila hated him for being rational.
She hated herself more for knowing he was right.
Grant entered the gallery with two security officers.
“No sign of the painting anywhere on the property.”
Julian looked toward the empty frame.
“How does someone remove a thirty-kilogram painting from the most secure room in my house without appearing on a single camera?”
Grant hesitated.
“Either they knew the blind spots—”
“Or?”
“They never left the house with it.”
Lila turned.
“You think The Silent Echo is still here?”
“It’s possible.”
Julian looked at the hidden compartment.
“Search every room.”
Grant nodded.
“And Grant?”
“Yes?”
“Search the walls.”
Grant stared at him.
Julian did not smile.
“All of them.”
After security left, Lila picked up the silver bracelet from the wooden box.
It was tiny.
A baby’s bracelet.
Darkened with age.
A dried brown stain covered several links.
Blood.
Engraved on the inside were two letters.
L.T.
“Mine.”
Julian looked at her.
“You remember it?”
“No.”
She ran her thumb over the engraving.
“But who else?”
Julian took out his phone.
“We can test the blood.”
“For what?”
“DNA.”
Lila stared at the bracelet.
“If the blood belongs to Marcus…”
“It still wouldn’t prove he was your father.”
“And if it belongs to Sebastian?”
“Same problem.”
She looked at him.
“And if it belongs to Richard?”
Julian’s expression darkened.
“Then we have a different problem.”
A knock sounded at the gallery entrance.
One of the guards entered.
“Sir, there’s a woman at the front gate.”
“At this hour?”
“She says she needs to speak with Ms. Thorne.”
Lila’s stomach tightened.
“Name?”
The guard checked his tablet.
“Dr. Miriam Vale.”
Lila stopped breathing.
“Vale?”
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
“Did she say why?”
“She says she’s Marcus Vale’s daughter.”
Ten minutes later, Miriam Vale sat in Julian’s library.
She was approximately forty-five, elegant without appearing wealthy, wearing a dark green coat over hospital scrubs. Her hair was black with silver at the temples. Thin-framed glasses rested on a face that looked composed only because she was working very hard to keep it that way.
Lila remained standing.
“You’re Marcus Vale’s daughter?”
Miriam looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Then what does that make me?”
Pain flickered across the woman’s face.
“That depends on which lie you were given tonight.”
Julian placed the birth certificate on the table.
Miriam glanced at it.
She did not appear surprised.
“That one.”
Lila’s pulse quickened.
“You’ve seen it before?”
“I’ve seen three versions.”
Silence.
Julian leaned forward.
“Three birth certificates?”
“Three versions of Lila’s birth certificate.”
Miriam opened her handbag.
Julian’s security guard immediately moved closer.
Miriam stopped.
“It’s paper.”
“Take it out slowly,” Julian said.
She did.
Two folded documents.
She placed them beside the first.
Lila opened them.
All three documents contained her name.
All three listed Helena Marlowe as her mother.
But the father changed.
The first: Marcus Vale.
The second: Elias Thorne.
The third:
Father unknown.
Lila stared at Miriam.
“Which one is real?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
The answer surprised her.
Miriam continued.
“You shouldn’t believe anyone connected to my father.”
“Are you connected to him?”
“By blood. Not by choice.”
Julian watched her carefully.
“Why are you here?”
Miriam looked toward Lila.
“Because Marcus knows you found Helena’s room.”
Lila’s skin prickled.
“How?”
“He called me forty minutes ago.”
Julian leaned forward.
“Marcus Vale is alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Lila laughed bitterly.
“Apparently nobody knows where anyone is tonight.”
Miriam ignored the remark.
“My father told me that if Lila found the birth certificate, I had to come here before Sebastian did.”
“He was already here,” Julian said.
Miriam’s composure cracked.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Where is he now?”
“We don’t know.”
Miriam stood.
“I have to leave.”
Lila blocked her.
“No.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I’m getting very tired of hearing that.”
Miriam looked directly at her.
“Sebastian Crowe is dangerous.”
“Marcus Vale says that?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“My mother.”
Lila frowned.
“Who was your mother?”
Miriam hesitated.
“Evelyn Vale.”
Julian went still.
“What did you say?”
Miriam looked at him.
“Evelyn Vale.”
Julian’s voice lowered.
“Elias told us Richard Blackwood had a first wife named Evelyn.”
Miriam slowly sat back down.
For the first time, genuine confusion appeared on her face.
“That isn’t possible.”
“Why?”
“My mother was never married to Richard Blackwood.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she was married to Marcus.”
Julian and Lila exchanged a look.
Another contradiction.
Another version of history.
Miriam removed her glasses.
“My mother died when I was six.”
“How?” Lila asked.
“I was told it was an accident.”
“What kind?”
“She fell from a balcony.”
Julian’s expression hardened.
“Where?”
Miriam looked at him.
“Blackwood House.”
Silence.
Lila glanced toward the ceiling as if Helena’s sealed bedroom existed directly above them.
“You were here?”
“I lived here for almost a year.”
Julian stared at her.
“I would remember you.”
“You were away at school most of that year.”
“How old was I?”
“Ten.”
Julian looked disturbed.
Miriam continued.
“My father worked for Richard. My mother catalogued the Blackwood art collection.”
“And Helena?”
Miriam’s face softened.
“She was kind to me.”
Lila sat down.
“You knew my mother?”
“A little.”
“What was she like?”
The question escaped before Lila could stop it.
Miriam studied her.
“Lonely.”
One word.
It hurt more than a long explanation would have.
“She smiled often,” Miriam continued, “but she was lonely. She spent hours in the winter garden painting. Sometimes she let me sit beside her.”
Lila swallowed.
“Did she ever mention me?”
“No.”
Lila looked away.
Miriam added quietly, “But I think she was trying to protect you.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“I know.”
“And everyone who protected me somehow managed to leave me alone.”
Miriam had no answer.
Julian tapped the three birth certificates.
“Why did these exist?”
“My father created false identities and documents for Richard.”
“So Marcus could have forged all three.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Lila looked at her.
“What do you know?”
Miriam hesitated.
“I know my mother discovered something shortly before she died.”
“The second painting?”
Miriam’s eyes widened.
“Who told you about that?”
“Elias.”
“Elias is dead.”
“No.”
Miriam stared at her.
Lila watched the realization spread across her face.
“You’ve spoken to him?”
“Tonight.”
Miriam stood again.
This time the fear was unmistakable.
“Then you need to leave this house.”
“Why?”
“Because if Elias has come back, Marcus will come back too.”
“You just said Marcus called you.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
Lila stepped closer.
“What happened between them?”
Miriam looked toward Julian.
Then toward the gallery doors.
“My father didn’t steal The Silent Echo because it was valuable.”
Lila’s chest tightened.
“He stole it because of Helena?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because he thought something was hidden inside it.”
“The brass key.”
Miriam froze.
“You know about the key?”
“Elias told us.”
“Did you find it?”
“No.”
Miriam exhaled slowly.
“Then you still have time.”
“To do what?”
“Find it before Sebastian.”
Julian crossed his arms.
“Why does Sebastian want it?”
“Because the key opens a safe-deposit box.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Lila stared at her.
“Everyone knows half the truth.”
“That was deliberate.”
Miriam’s voice became quieter.
“Richard divided information between people. Marcus knew one part. Sebastian knew another. Helena knew more than either of them.”
“And Elias?”
Miriam looked at Lila.
“Elias knew enough to disappear.”
Julian asked, “What’s in the box?”
“My mother’s evidence.”
“Of her own murder?”
Miriam flinched.
“You know about that too.”
“Elias said Helena’s second painting contains evidence about Evelyn’s death.”
Miriam slowly shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“That’s not what the second painting is about.”
Lila frowned.
“Then what does it show?”
Miriam looked directly at her.
“You.”
Lila felt cold.
“Me?”
“As a newborn.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It will.”
Miriam reached into her bag again.
This time she removed an old Polaroid.
She handed it to Lila.
The image showed Helena standing in the winter garden beside an unfinished canvas.
Only part of the painting was visible.
A woman holding a newborn child.
Behind them stood three men.
Richard Blackwood.
Marcus Vale.
Sebastian Crowe.
And—
Lila moved the photograph closer.
There was a fourth man reflected in the glass wall.
Elias.
All four had been present.
All four knew about her birth.
On the bottom edge of the Polaroid, Evelyn had written:
THEY ALL CLAIM SHE BELONGS TO THEM.
Lila’s hands shook.
“What does that mean?”
Miriam looked exhausted.
“I spent thirty years trying to understand it.”
Julian took the photograph.
“Why would four men claim one child?”
“They weren’t claiming paternity.”
“Then what?”
Miriam’s eyes returned to Lila.
“Ownership.”
Lila recoiled.
“I’m not property.”
“To Richard Blackwood, everyone was.”
Julian’s face tightened at the description of his father.
Miriam continued.
“Your birth changed something. Money. Inheritance. Control. I never discovered exactly what.”
Lila remembered The Silent Echo.
Shell companies.
False provenance.
The Blackwood fortune.
“Was Helena wealthy before she married Richard?”
“Very.”
“How wealthy?”
Miriam gave a humorless smile.
“Possibly wealthier than him.”
Julian stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“No. That’s what Richard wanted everyone to believe.”
Miriam explained that Helena Marlowe descended from an old banking family. Much of her inheritance had been placed into private trusts.
Richard could benefit from some of those assets through marriage.
But he could never own the central Marlowe trust.
That inheritance passed through Helena’s bloodline.
Lila understood first.
“To her child.”
Miriam nodded.
Julian looked at Lila.
“How much?”
“I don’t know the current value.”
“Estimate.”
Miriam hesitated.
“Hundreds of millions.”
The room fell silent.
Lila almost laughed.
Yesterday she had been cleaning floors.
Tonight strangers were trying to tell her she might be heir to a fortune.
“I don’t want it.”
Miriam’s expression was sad.
“That won’t matter to the people who do.”
A loud crash came from the Grand Gallery.
Julian stood immediately.
Security voices erupted through the corridor.
They ran.
One of the guards lay unconscious near the entrance.
The empty gold frame was still on the wall.
But now something had been placed inside it.
Not The Silent Echo.
Another painting.
A woman holding a newborn baby beneath the glass ceiling of the winter garden.
Helena.
Lila.
The second painting.
Miriam stopped behind them.
“Oh my God.”
Lila approached slowly.
The painting was darker than The Silent Echo.
More violent.
Behind Helena stood four men.
Richard.
Marcus.
Sebastian.
Elias.
Each looked toward the child.
But Helena was looking somewhere else.
Toward the glass wall.
Lila followed her painted gaze.
There was a reflection.
A woman falling.
Evelyn.
Miriam gasped.
“My mother.”
Julian moved closer.
Then Lila noticed something strange.
The painting showed Evelyn falling from the balcony.
But one hand was reaching toward her.
Someone stood above.
Someone had pushed her.
The face was obscured by shadow.
Except for one detail.
A silver signet ring.
Julian stopped breathing.
Lila looked at his right hand.
He wore the same ring.
Black onyx surrounded by silver.
The Blackwood family crest.
Julian slowly removed it.
“My father gave me this when I turned eighteen.”
Miriam stared at the painted hand.
“Richard wore one too.”
Julian’s face hardened.
“So he killed Evelyn.”
“No,” Miriam whispered.
“What?”
She stepped toward the canvas.
“My mother died twenty-nine years ago.”
“Yes?”
“Richard had broken his right wrist that month.”
Lila looked at her.
Miriam pointed toward the painting.
“The person pushing her is using the right hand.”
Julian frowned.
“Then who else had the ring?”
Miriam looked terrified.
“Only members of the Blackwood family.”
A phone began ringing.
Not theirs.
The sound came from behind the second painting.
Julian carefully pulled the canvas forward.
A mobile phone had been taped to the back.
The screen displayed:
UNKNOWN CALLER.
Lila answered.
“Hello?”
A man spoke.
Not Elias.
Not Sebastian.
Marcus Vale.
“You found Helena’s confession.”
Lila’s heart pounded.
“Are you my father?”
Marcus laughed softly.
“No.”
She closed her eyes.
“Then why does my birth certificate say you are?”
“Because Richard needed the world to believe you belonged to anyone except the man who actually fathered you.”
“Who?”
Marcus ignored the question.
“Look at the lower-right corner of Helena’s painting.”
Lila did.
There was a small painted door behind the winter garden.
“What about it?”
“That door existed.”
Julian frowned.
“It was removed during renovations.”
“Exactly.”
Marcus continued.
“Behind it was a private room.”
“What room?”
“The room where you were born.”
Lila froze.
“My birth certificate says I was born in a hospital.”
“All three birth certificates are lies.”
“Then who delivered me?”
“Evelyn.”
Miriam staggered backward.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“But she died—”
“After Lila was born.”
Miriam stared at the painting.
Her entire understanding of her mother’s death was changing.
Lila gripped the phone.
“Who is my father?”
Marcus became silent.
“Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“If I say his name over this line, he’ll know I betrayed him.”
“He?”
Marcus breathed slowly.
“He is still alive.”
Lila’s heart hammered.
“Sebastian?”
“No.”
“Elias?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Before Marcus could answer, the lights in the gallery flickered.
Miriam suddenly pointed toward the painted window.
“Wait.”
Everyone looked.
There was writing hidden in the painted condensation.
Tiny letters.
Almost invisible.
Lila moved closer.
Helena had painted six words into the glass:
JULIAN KNOWS WHERE I HID HIM.
Lila turned.
Julian had gone completely pale.
“I don’t know what that means.”
Marcus heard him through the phone.
His voice changed.
“Julian?”
Julian took the phone.
“What did my mother hide?”
Marcus whispered:
“Your brother.”
Silence.
Julian stared ahead.
“I don’t have a brother.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Who?”
Marcus hesitated.
Then said:
“The man Lila has called her father for her entire life.”
Lila felt the room collapse around her.
Julian’s lips parted.
“No.”
Marcus’s final words came almost gently.
“Elias Thorne is your older brother.”