THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Fifty Eight: The Man in Aurelia

Damian couldn't sleep.

The photograph remained on his desk.

He had turned it over dozens of times.

Nothing.

No name.

No address.

There's a picture of a guy standing outside a train station in Aurelia.

A man who might have been connected to his family.

A man someone had spent twenty-five years hiding.

Damian picked up his phone.

The photograph was still open on the screen.

He zoomed in.

The man's face remained partially obscured.

But the eyes were clear.

Dark.

Steady.

Unfamiliar.

And somehow familiar at the same time.

A knock came at the door.

Damian immediately locked his phone.

“Come in.”

Benedict entered.

He looked like he hadn't slept either.

“You're still awake.”

“So are you.”

Benedict walked toward the desk.

“The photograph.”

Damian handed him the phone.

Benedict studied it.

“I enlarged the original.”

“And?”

“There's a reflection in the station window.”

Damian frowned.

“What reflection?”

Benedict turned the phone toward him.

Behind the man was a glass panel.

In the reflection, another person could be seen.

A woman.

Damian stared.

“Who is she?”

“I don't know.”

“But she's following him.”

“Maybe.”

Damian zoomed in.

The woman appeared to be holding something.

A folder.

Or perhaps an envelope.

Benedict looked at the image for several seconds.

Then his expression changed.

“What?”

“That symbol.”

Damian followed his gaze.

A small mark appeared on the woman's bag.

The same geometric design.

The same symbol from the sealed office.

“The Architect symbol,” Damian whispered.

Benedict's expression remained controlled.

“Don't call it that.”

Damian looked at him.

“Why?”

“Because we don't know who created it.”

“But you've seen it before.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

Benedict looked away.

“Before I disappeared.”

Damian went silent.

“You remember?”

“Pieces.”

Benedict sat down.

“Not enough to build the whole story.”

Damian studied him.

“What do you remember?”

Benedict's eyes remained fixed on the photograph.

“My mother.”

“Evelyn?”

“Yes.”

“And the child?”

Benedict shook his head.

“I don't remember him.”

“Then how can you know he's your brother?”

“I don't.”

The answer surprised Damian.

Benedict continued.

“That is why we cannot assume anything.”

Damian nodded.

“Then what do we know?”

Benedict counted quietly.

“Someone preserved the photograph.”

“Someone knows where the man is.”

“Yes.”

“Someone doesn't want us searching for him.”

“Yes.”

“And someone is connected to that symbol.”

Benedict nodded.

“Exactly.”

Damian leaned back.

“Magnus?”

“Possibly.”

“But if Magnus wanted to destroy the Ashcroft Group, why reveal the child?”

Benedict looked at him.

“Maybe he doesn't want the child revealed.”

“Then why send us the photograph?”

“To control where we look.”

Damian's expression changed.

“So the photograph could be bait.”

“Yes.”

A silence settled between them.

Then Damian's phone rang.

Unknown number.

He answered.

“Hello?”

No response.

“Who is this?”

A man's voice finally came through.

“Damian Ashcroft.”

Damian sat upright.

“Who are you?”

“You've been asking questions.”

“About what?”

“The wrong man.”

Damian looked at Benedict.

“What do you mean?”

You think the guy in the picture is related to you.

“Isn't he?”

A pause.

“No.”

The line went silent.

Damian stood.

“Wait.”

The voice returned.

“Find the woman first.”

“Who is she?”

“You already know her.”

The call ended.

Damian stared at the phone.

Benedict immediately asked,

“What did he say?”

Damian told him.

Benedict's expression tightened.

“The woman.”

“The one in the reflection.”

“Yes.”

“He said we already know her.”

Benedict took the phone again.

He studied the reflection.

Then suddenly turned toward the door.

“We need Eleanor.”

Damian frowned.

“Why?”

If she can identify the woman in the picture, then we'll have a better idea of whether the photo is genuine or not.

Eleanor was in the east wing when they found her.

She sat by the window, gazing out into the dark night.

Damian entered first.

“Mother.”

She turned.

“What happened?”

Benedict followed him.

Eleanor's expression immediately changed.

She had seen him holding the phone.

“What is that?”

Damian placed the photograph before her.

“Do you recognize the man?”

Eleanor looked at the photograph.

Her face went pale.

But she didn't speak.

Damian watched her carefully.

“Mother?”

Her fingers trembled.

“Where did you get this?”

“That's not an answer.”

Eleanor looked at Benedict.

Then back to the photograph.

“I've seen that face.”

Benedict stepped closer.

“When?”

“Years ago.”

“Where?”

Eleanor swallowed.

“At the river.”

Benedict froze.

Damian looked at her.

“The river?”

Eleanor nodded.

“The night everything changed.”

Benedict's breathing slowed.

“You were there.”

“Yes.”

“With Evelyn?”

Eleanor closed her eyes.

“Yes.”

“And the child?”

A long silence.

Then Eleanor whispered,

“Yes.”

Damian stared at her.

“You saw him?”

“I saw a child.”

“Was it this man?”

“I don't know.”

“Look at the photograph.”

Eleanor did.

Tears filled her eyes.

“I don't know.”

Benedict's voice became quiet.

“Mother.”

Eleanor looked at him.

The word seemed to affect her.

“You called me that once.”

Benedict's expression changed.

“When?”

“Before they took you.”

Silence.

Damian looked between them.

“What do you mean?”

Eleanor lowered her head.

“I wasn't your mother.”

Benedict stared at her.

“But I cared for you.”

“Why?”

“Because Evelyn asked me to.”

The room became completely silent.

Damian felt a chill.

“My father knew?”

“Yes.”

“Grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“And they still let me disappear?”

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.

“We didn't know what they would do.”

Benedict stepped closer.

“What happened that night?”

Eleanor looked toward the window.

“Evelyn brought the child to the river.”

“Why?”

She wanted to get him away from the city.

“From whom?”

Eleanor hesitated.

“Your grandfather.”

Benedict's jaw tightened.

“Why was he after the child?”

“Because he had discovered the truth.”

“What truth?”

Eleanor looked at him.

“That the child carried both bloodlines.”

Benedict went still.

“Ashcroft and Vandross.”

“Yes.”

Damian whispered,

“Then he really could have challenged the succession.”

Eleanor nodded.

“That was why they wanted him gone.”

Benedict's voice became colder.

“What happened at the river?”

Eleanor closed her eyes.

I witnessed Evelyn placing the child inside a vehicle.

“Who was driving?”

“I don't know.”

“Where did they go?”

“I don't know.”

“Then how did I disappear?”

Eleanor looked at him.

“You were with us.”

Benedict's eyes widened.

“I was there?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Evelyn wanted to take you too.”

Benedict stared at her.

“Why?”

“Because she believed you were in danger.”

Damian stepped closer.

“What happened next?”

Eleanor's hands began trembling.

“There was an accident.”

Benedict froze.

“What accident?”

“A second car came through the rain.”

“What happened?”

“I heard the crash.”

“And?”

I watched as the car that Evelyn and the kid were in drove off the road.

Damian's face tightened.

“Did they die?”

Eleanor shook her head.

“No.”

Benedict stared at her.

“How do you know?”

I witnessed someone removing them from the vehicle.

“Who?”

Eleanor looked at Benedict.

“I never saw his face.”

“Then how do you know they survived?”

“Because the next morning, the bodies were gone.”

Silence.

Benedict looked down.

“And me?”

Eleanor's voice broke.

“You were taken before sunrise.”

“By whom?”

She hesitated.

Then whispered,

“Victor.”

Damian turned toward her.

“My father?”

Eleanor nodded.

He got told to bring you back to the manor.

Benedict's expression hardened.

“And he told everyone I died.”

“No.”

Eleanor shook her head.

“He didn't.”

Damian frowned.

“Then who did?”

Eleanor looked toward the door.

Her face had become terrified.

“Your grandfather.”

A sound came from the hallway.

Everyone turned.

The door was open.

Nobody stood outside.

But a folded envelope lay on the floor.

Damian picked it up.

There was a name written across it.

BENEDICT.

Benedict opened it.

Inside was a single line.

If you're looking for your brother, you should go to the place where your mother went missing.

Beneath it was an address.

Damian read it.

His expression changed.

“It's the river.”

Benedict stared at the address.

Then at Eleanor.

She slowly shook her head.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because that place doesn't exist anymore.”

Benedict folded the note.

“Then someone wants us to believe it does.”

He turned toward the door.

Damian followed.

Eleanor suddenly grabbed Benedict's arm.

“Don't go.”

Benedict stopped.

She looked into his eyes.

“If that message came from the person I think it came from…”

Her voice trembled.

“Your brother may not be the one waiting for you.”

Benedict stared at her.

“Then who is?”

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.

This person has been keeping their identity a secret for 25 years.

Benedict stared at Eleanor.

“The person protecting his identity.”

Eleanor slowly released his arm.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“I don't know.”

“You said you thought you knew.”

“I said I was afraid I knew.”

Damian stepped between them.

“Then tell us.”

Eleanor looked toward the hallway.

“Not here.”

“Why?”

"If someone can just walk in and send a message like that, it means no one is really safe anywhere in Ashcroft Manor."

Benedict folded the note.

“Then we leave.”

Eleanor caught his arm again.

“Benedict.”

He turned.

“Your brother may not know who you are.”

“That doesn't matter.”

“It does.”

Her voice trembled.

“If someone protected him all these years, they may have protected him from you too.”

Benedict's expression hardened.

“I don't want to hurt him.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you afraid of?”

Eleanor looked at him.

“That he may believe you are the enemy.”

Silence.

Damian understood.

Someone had controlled the story for twenty-five years.

If the missing child had grown up believing the Ashcrofts were responsible for his disappearance, Benedict's arrival could be seen as a threat.

“Then we don't approach him,” Damian said.

Benedict looked at him.

“We find the person protecting him first.”

Eleanor nodded.

“That is the only way.”

They left the manor through the rear entrance.

No cars.

No security escort.

Only Damian, Benedict, and Eleanor.

The river was less than thirty minutes away.

As they got closer, Eleanor started to say less and less, until she was almost silent.

Damian noticed.

“You remember this place.”

“Yes.”

“What happened after the accident?”

Eleanor stared through the window.

“I went back the next morning.”

“Why?”

“To look for Evelyn.”

“And?”

“I found nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Only tire marks.”

Benedict looked at her.

“And the child?”

“Gone.”

“You didn't report it?”

Eleanor shook her head.

“Your grandfather had already sent people.”

“Why didn't you tell anyone you saw Evelyn alive?”

“I was afraid.”

Benedict's voice softened.

“Of my grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“And Victor?”

Eleanor hesitated.

“Of what Victor had become.”

Damian frowned.

“My father?”

“He was different then.”

“How?”

“He believed obedience was the same as loyalty.”

Benedict looked away.

The words stayed with him.

The car came to a stop a few hundred meters away from the river.

They continued on foot.

The old road was barely visible, hidden under a thick layer of weeds and cracked concrete that had broken apart over time.

Damian checked the address.

“This is it.”

Eleanor stopped.

“No.”

Benedict turned.

“What?”

She pointed ahead.

“The bridge.”

The old bridge stood over the dark water.

It had been abandoned for years.

Damian looked at Benedict.

“This is where it happened?”

Eleanor nodded.

Benedict walked forward.

As I moved forward, each new step uncovered a little more of my past, like pieces of a puzzle slowly coming together.

Rain.

Headlights.

A woman's voice.

A child's cry.

Then—

A hand gripping his wrist.

He stopped.

Damian noticed.

“What happened?”

“I remember something.”

“What?”

Benedict stared at the bridge.

“Someone told me not to look back.”

Eleanor covered her mouth.

Benedict turned toward her.

“You remember that?”

“Yes.”

“Who said it?”

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.

“Evelyn.”

Benedict closed his eyes.

Then another memory surfaced.

A man's voice.

Not Victor.

Not his grandfather.

Someone else.

“Keep the boy safe.”

Benedict opened his eyes.

“Who said that?”

Eleanor shook her head.

“I don't know.”

“You heard him.”

“Yes.”

“Then describe him.”

“I couldn't see his face.”

“Why?”

“It was raining.”

Benedict stared across the river.

“So someone else was there.”

“Yes.”

“And that person took the child.”

Eleanor nodded.

“But not you.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Eleanor looked down.

“Because you were already unconscious.”

Damian's expression tightened.

“What happened to Benedict?”

“They took him.”

“Who?”

Eleanor whispered,

“Victor.”

Benedict's jaw tightened.

“And the child?”

“I don't know.”

A sound came from beneath the bridge.

Damian immediately turned.

“Who's there?”

Nothing.

Benedict raised a hand.

“Stay here.”

He moved toward the riverbank.

Damian followed.

They discovered an old metal box under the bridge.

It was partially buried in mud.

Benedict crouched beside it.

There was a symbol on the lid.

The same geometric mark.

Damian stared.

“The Architect symbol.”

Benedict looked at him.

“We don't know that.”

“You recognize it.”

“Yes.”

“Then what is it?”

Benedict touched the lid.

“A marker.”

“For what?”

“I don't know.”

He opened the box.

Inside was a child's bracelet.

A folded piece of paper.

And an old key.

Damian picked up the bracelet.

A name had been engraved on the inside.

ADRIAN.

He froze.

“Benedict.”

Benedict looked at the bracelet.

His expression changed.

“Adrian.”

Damian looked at him.

“You remember that name?”

Benedict nodded slowly.

“Someone called me Adrian.”

“When?”

“Before I disappeared.”

Eleanor had followed them to the riverbank.

She heard the name.

Her face went pale.

“That's impossible.”

Benedict looked at her.

“What?”

“Adrian wasn't your name.”

“I know.”

“Then why is it on the bracelet?”

Eleanor shook her head.

“I don't know.”

Damian unfolded the paper.

Only three lines were written.

HE WAS GIVEN A NEW NAME.

HE WAS GIVEN A NEW LIFE.

BUT THE BLOOD REMEMBERED.

Benedict stared at the words.

Damian looked toward Eleanor.

“What does this mean?”

Eleanor couldn't answer.

Then headlights appeared on the road above them.

A vehicle was approaching.

Benedict immediately closed the box.

“Someone's coming.”

Damian looked up.

“Could it be the man from the photograph?”

“Maybe.”

The vehicle stopped.

A door opened.

A man stepped out.

He was tall.

Older.

The shadow of his hood covered his face.

He didn't approach.

Instead, he placed something on the ground.

Then he turned back toward the vehicle.

Benedict called out.

“Wait!”

The man stopped.

Benedict took a step forward.

“Who are you?”

The man didn't answer.

“Are you protecting the child?”

The man slowly turned his head.

Then he said,

“He doesn't need protection from you.”

Benedict froze.

“Who is he?”

The man looked directly at him.

“Someone who was given everything you lost.”

Benedict's voice became cold.

“Where is he?”

The man smiled faintly.

“Closer than you think.”

Then he got back into the vehicle.

The car disappeared into the darkness.

Damian sprinted towards the thing he had forgotten.

It was another photograph.

He picked it up.

This time, the image was clear.

The missing man stood beside an older woman.

Damian stared.

“Eleanor.”

She stepped closer.

As soon as she laid eyes on the woman, a shiver ran down her spine and she started to shake all over.

“I know her.”

Benedict looked at her.

“Who is she?”

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.

“She worked for your grandfather.”

Damian frowned.

“Worked for him?”

“Yes.”

“What was her name?”

Eleanor swallowed.

“Margaret Vale.”

Benedict stared at the photograph.

“Where is she now?”

Eleanor shook her head.

“She disappeared twenty-five years ago.”

Damian looked at the man beside her.

It's possible that she looked after the kid.

“Yes.”

Benedict turned his gaze towards the road, watching as the vehicle disappeared from sight.

“Then we find Margaret.”

Damian nodded.

But Eleanor suddenly spoke.

“You may already have found her.”

Benedict turned.

“What do you mean?”

Eleanor pointed to the photograph.

“Look at the woman's hand.”

Damian zoomed in.

A ring was visible.

The same geometric symbol.

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

“The symbol.”

Eleanor nodded.

“She wore that ring the night Evelyn disappeared.”

Silence.

Damian looked toward the darkness.

“Then Margaret wasn't just protecting the child.”

Benedict finished the thought.

“She was part of the plan.”

He looked down at the photograph.

The missing man's identity was still unknown.

His location was still uncertain.

But now they had a name.

Margaret Vale.

A path that wound its way back to the very night Benedict vanished.

Benedict folded the photograph.

“We found her.”

Damian looked at him.

“And if she knows where your brother is?”

Benedict's expression hardened.

“Then she knows where the truth is.”

The river just kept going, quietly making its way through the dark.

Neither man noticed the small light blinking from across the water.

Someone was watching.

Someone who had heard everything.

And then, on the screen of a phone that was hidden from view, a message suddenly popped up.

THEY FOUND MARGARET.

A reply came almost immediately.

THEN IT'S TIME TO MOVE ADRIAN.