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“Then, he met Anne.” Ah. Joshua’s mouth twists. “Your precious Jubilee’s mother was supposed to be another mark. Wealthy family. Useful connections. Jacob knew what he was doing…until she got pregnant.”

The way he says it makes my hands curl against the metal behind me.

“He changed,” Joshua says. “Suddenly, there were rules. Limits. Money he wouldn’t touch. People he wouldn’t involve. He started hiding things from me. Then, he took her name and disappeared into this ridiculous imitation of normal life.”

“Sounds like he quit.”

“He abandoned me.” Didn’t take long at all. Every sentence has a villain. Joshua is never it. “He left obligations behind,” he continues. “Partners who wanted answers. People who assumed I had access to money Jacob moved before he vanished.”

“And here I assumed all this would trace back to daddy issues.”

“Mommy issues,” Maisie corrects immediately. “You mentioned how he pulled the dead-mother card at the bakery. He handled her estate.”

“Good catch.”

Joshua’s face reddens. “My mother spent the rest of her life wondering where her eldest son went.”

“See?” Maisie points out.

“Brownie point to Maise.”

She straightens in her chair, chin lifting high. “Make the fudge caramel ones I like next time.”

“Would you both shut the fuck up?”

“No,” she answers. I’m so proud.

Joshua lifts the gun and points it toward the floor between us. “For twenty-seven years, Jacob left me dealing with consequences he created.”

“Twenty-seven years seems like plenty of time to acquire a hobby,” I offer.

“Or therapy,” Maisie adds.

“Or cats.”

We both glance at each other, nod, and say in sync, “More cats.”

Joshua closes his eyes for one second. When they open, he looks like he finally understands why homicide occasionally feels like a reasonable response to family.

“The ledger,” he says sharply. “Jacob kept records. Names. Accounts. Cash movements. Leverage on people who would pay very well to ensure certain information never becomes public.”

“So you’re being extorted,” I say. He snaps his chin toward me. Interesting. “You owe somebody.”

“I have business obligations.”

“Debt,” Maisie translates, her arms straining behind her ever so subtly. I know what she’s doing.

“So, you think Jacob’s ledger fixes it,” I say.

“It contains assets that belonged to both of us.” Joshua clenches his jaw.

“You mean stolen money.”

“My money,” he grits out.

There’s the real religion. Not family. Not grief. Ownership. Jacob took money Joshua believes belonged to him, and twenty-seven years later, he’s still standing in the ruins of that grievance, blaming everyone except the man holding the gun.

“Jubilee is the only one who can decode it,” I say.