Richard's expression changed. For the first time since Tristan had entered the office, the older man looked uncomfortable.“Your father was someone I respected. When I learned what had happened to his family, I tried to find out whether any of his children had survived.”Tristan went still.“My father?”“Yes.”The word struck him harder than he expected. He had questioned his childhood, doubted Madison's story, and suspected that the Harolds had concealed something. Yet hearing a stranger speak about his father as though the man had existed yesterday made the whole matter feel different.Tristan had spent his life believing his biological parents had abandoned him. Whenever he wondered about them, he eventually forced himself to stop. There was little point searching for people who had supposedly chosen to live without him.Now someone was telling him that his father had been known, respected, and possibly still connected to the events that shaped his life.“Tell me his name,” Tristan

“Be careful, Tristan. Whatever happened between your father and Sir Harold, it clearly wasn't a small matter.”The call ended.Tristan walked outside and raised his hand to stop a passing taxi. He gave the driver the address of the Harold estate, then settled into the back seat with his phone in his hand.He had told Richard he wouldn't return to obey the Harolds. That hadn't changed. But if Sir Harold possessed a letter from his biological father, Tristan wasn't going to leave it in the hands of someone who had spent years lying to him.He would get answers.And this time, he wouldn't leave until he had them.The taxi moved through the afternoon traffic, but Tristan barely noticed the journey. His mind kept returning to the document and the name Richard had given him.Daniel Lawson.He opened his browser and searched for the name. Several results appeared, including an old business article about a man who had died years ago. The photograph showed a serious-looking man in his forties,

“You gave me a room, food, and a name to live under. You took away the truth about my parents and expected me to spend the rest of my life thanking you.”Madison's face flushed. “After everything we've done, you dare to speak to us like this?”“After everything you've done, you still think I owe you gratitude?”Sir Harold struck the desk with his palm. “Watch your mouth, Tristan!”The command echoed through the study.For a moment, the old power imbalance returned. Tristan remembered all the years he had lowered his head whenever Sir Harold spoke, the times he had swallowed insults to keep peace in the household, and the countless occasions when he had been treated as though his presence depended on their approval.But he was no longer that helpless boy.He placed the letter carefully inside the envelope and slipped it into his pocket.“You said my father died here,” Tristan continued. “Was it an accident?”Sir Harold hesitated.That hesitation made Tristan's stomach tighten.“Was it a

Sir Harold's silence returned.Tristan placed the first folder on the desk and reached for the small notebook. Several pages contained dates and short entries, most of them written in the same handwriting. He flipped through them until he found an entry made on the day of Daniel's death.The handwriting was hurried.Daniel arrived to collect the boy. He refused to leave without him. Argument with Sir Harold. Injury sustained. Madison instructed staff to keep the child upstairs.Tristan stopped reading.He looked at Madison.“You ordered them to keep me upstairs?”She folded her arms tightly. “You were a child. You didn't need to witness an argument between adults.”“An argument that ended with my father dying?”“We didn't know that would happen!”“Then why did you make sure I couldn't come downstairs?”Madison's eyes flashed. “Because your father was shouting, and you were frightened! I was trying to protect you from a scene you wouldn't have understood.”Tristan turned back to the not