THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Fifty Five: Beneath the Ashcroft Name

The old law office was torn down a long time ago, twelve years to be exact.

That's what the official records showed, anyway.

Damian stood behind the wheel of the car, staring at the empty lot ahead.

Nothing remained of the building.

All that's left is a broken pavement, some weeds, and an old rusty barrier that was once used for construction.

“This is it?”

Mercer nodded from the passenger seat.

“What's left of it.”

Benedict sat in the back, studying the property.

Damian looked at him through the mirror.

You mentioned that there's some kind of archive hidden beneath this building, right?

“I didn't say it.”

“Mercer did.”

Benedict looked toward the old lot.

“Then Mercer knows where we're going.”

Mercer sighed.

There's a way under the east side of the building.

Damian looked around.

“There isn't a foundation.”

“There is.”

“Where?”

Mercer gestured to a spot on the pavement, over by the far wall.

“That was once the basement entrance.”

Damian parked.

The three men stepped out.

The air was still.

Too still.

Benedict looked around.

“We're not alone.”

Damian immediately turned.

“Where?”

“I don't know.”

Mercer looked nervous.

“Then we should hurry.”

They crossed the lot.

Mercer was standing near the eastern wall when he pulled out a small metal detector from his coat.

Damian stared.

“You came prepared.”

“I've waited twenty-five years for this.”

The detector beeped.

Mercer stopped.

He knelt and brushed away dirt.

A metal plate appeared beneath the soil.

Damian helped him clear it.

There was a small keyhole.

Benedict took out the key.

It fit perfectly.

The lock clicked.

A section of concrete shifted.

A narrow stairway descended into darkness.

Damian looked down.

“How deep?”

“Two levels.”

Benedict went first.

Damian followed.

Mercer came behind them.

The door closed automatically.

Darkness swallowed the three men.

Mercer switched on a flashlight.

The walls were old.

Concrete.

Steel.

No windows.

No signs.

Then Damian saw something engraved into the wall.

The Ashcroft crest.

Beneath it were four words.

THE FAMILY REMEMBERS EVERYTHING.

Damian stopped.

“That's unsettling.”

Mercer continued walking.

“This was never a normal archive.”

“What was it?”

"The spot where your grandfather stored secrets he didn't feel comfortable sharing with just any lawyer."

Benedict looked at him.

“Blackmail?”

“Sometimes.”

“Secrets?”

“Mostly.”

Damian frowned.

“What kind of secrets?”

Mercer looked ahead.

“People's.”

They reached the first door.

Mercer entered a code.

Nothing happened.

He tried another.

Still nothing.

Benedict looked at the keypad.

“Twenty-five years ago.”

Mercer glanced at him.

“What?”

“Try the date.”

Mercer entered it.

The door opened.

Damian stared.

“You remembered.”

Benedict walked inside.

“I remember patterns.”

The room contained rows of metal cabinets.

Each one had a number.

Mercer walked to the center.

“Cabinet seven.”

Damian followed.

Mercer opened it.

Inside were dozens of files.

Ashcroft properties.

Share transfers.

Trust agreements.

Political donations.

Private contracts.

And at the bottom—

a black folder.

Mercer took it out.

“This is the one.”

Damian looked at the label.

There was no title.

Only a number.

A-0001.

“What does that mean?”

Mercer looked at Benedict.

“The first file.”

Benedict opened it.

The first page contained an old family tree.

Damian leaned over his shoulder.

Names stretched across generations.

Ashcroft.

Vandross.

Several other families.

But one section had been deliberately removed.

A page was missing.

Damian's expression hardened.

“Again.”

Benedict turned the page.

Another document.

Then another.

Every one of them seemed to point toward the missing page.

Mercer whispered,

“That's what your grandfather wanted.”

“What?”

“To make the missing person impossible to prove.”

Damian looked at him.

“But you kept evidence.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew the truth would eventually matter.”

Benedict continued turning pages.

Then he stopped.

On the back of it, someone had stuck a note that was written by hand.

He read it silently.

Damian noticed his expression.

“What?”

Benedict handed it over.

Damian read:

If the succession is challenged, do not defend the company. Verify the bloodline first.

He looked up.

“This changes everything.”

Benedict nodded.

“The company was never the foundation.”

Damian looked at the files.

“The bloodline was.”

“Yes.”

A noise echoed through the corridor.

All three men froze.

Mercer turned off the flashlight.

Darkness returned.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Measured.

Someone was approaching.

Damian whispered,

“Did anyone know we were coming?”

Mercer shook his head.

“No.”

Benedict listened.

The footsteps stopped outside the archive.

A metallic click sounded.

The door lock began moving.

Benedict looked at Damian.

“Get behind me.”

The door opened.

A man stepped inside.

He was dressed in a dark suit.

Older.

Calm.

Familiar.

Damian recognized him immediately.

“The man from the photograph.”

Mercer's face went pale.

Benedict stared at the newcomer.

The man smiled.

“You took your time.”

Damian's hand tightened around the folder.

“Who are you?”

The man looked at him.

“My name is Roland Mercer.”

Damian frowned.

“Mercer?”

He looked at the old lawyer.

“You're related?”

The elderly Mercer shook his head.

“No.”

The newcomer smiled.

“Same surname. Different family.”

Benedict's expression hardened.

“What do you want?”

Roland looked at the black folder.

“You.”

Damian stepped forward.

“Why?”

Roland's smile disappeared.

It all started twenty-five years ago, when something went terribly wrong in your family.

Benedict remained still.

“What mistake?”

Roland looked directly at him.

“They erased the wrong man.”

Silence filled the archive.

Damian felt a chill move through him.

“Who were they supposed to erase?”

Roland looked at Benedict.

“That is what you came here to discover.”

Benedict took one step forward.

“Tell me.”

Roland shook his head.

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because you still believe this is about your identity.”

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

“It isn't?”

“No.”

Roland pointed toward the files.

“It is about who had the right to create the Ashcroft empire in the first place.”

Damian stared at him.

“What does that mean?”

Roland looked at him.

“It means your grandfather may never have owned what he claimed to own.”

Damian's blood ran cold.

“Then who did?”

Roland's gaze returned to Benedict.

“That's the question your family is buried.”

The lights suddenly came on.

The archive door locked behind them.

Damian turned.

“We're trapped.”

Roland remained calm.

“No.”

He looked at the black folder.

“You're exactly where you need to be.”

Suddenly, all the cabinets in the archive swung open simultaneously.

Hundreds of files slid forward.

It dawned on Damian that they had missed something big - not a single secret had been uncovered.

They had found the entire hidden history of the Ashcroft family.

Hundreds of files stood open.

Damian slowly turned in place.

He had always believed that the Ashcroft Group was all about money and ambition, and that it was Victor who was the driving force behind it all.

Now he was looking at something much older.

Something hidden beneath the company.

“Why would my grandfather keep all of this?”

Roland Mercer walked toward the nearest cabinet.

“Because power isn't built only with money.”

He pulled out a file.

“It is built with information.”

Damian watched him.

“What kind of information?”

“Who owned what. Who owed whom. Which families helped the Ashcroft rise. Which politicians protected them. Which companies were quietly absorbed.”

Roland placed the file on the table.

“And which agreements were never meant to become public.”

Benedict opened another folder.

His eyes moved across the pages.

“This isn't just an archive.”

“No,” Roland said.

“It is a map.”

Benedict looked at him.

“A map of the empire.”

Roland nodded.

“Exactly.”

Damian picked up a document.

It was an old transfer agreement.

The date was thirty-two years earlier.

The property that was listed on it eventually turned out to be one of the most valuable projects that Ashcroft Group had worked on.

Damian looked at the signatures.

One belonged to his grandfather.

One of them had a name on it that he didn't know.

“Who is this?”

Roland looked at the page.

“The original financier.”

Damian frowned.

“My grandfather didn't finance the project?”

“Not entirely.”

“Then who did?”

Roland pointed to the signature.

“The Vandross family.”

Damian looked at Benedict.

Benedict's expression hardened.

“My family?”

“Part of it.”

Benedict looked at the document again.

“I've never seen this.”

“Because it was removed from the corporate records.”

“Why?”

Roland's voice lowered.

“Because the agreement gave the Vandross family a continuing interest in the assets.”

Damian's eyes widened.

“So Ashcroft Group never completely owned them.”

“Not legally.”

Benedict turned toward Mercer.

“You knew this existed.”

The older Mercer nodded.

“I knew there were agreements.”

“Did you know the Vandross family was involved?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Mercer looked down.

I wasn't sure how much of the connection to Vandross still existed.

Benedict stared at him.

Roland interrupted.

“You're asking the wrong question again.”

Benedict turned.

“What?”

“You keep asking what your family owned.”

Roland pointed toward another cabinet.

“You should be asking what your family was promised.”

Damian walked toward it.

He opened the drawer.

Inside was a series of old contracts.

The first concerned land.

The second concerned financing.

The third concerned voting rights.

The fourth was different.

It was a succession agreement.

Damian read the first line.

If the main family line dies out, control will go to the Ashcroft branch until a new leader is found.

He stopped.

“Temporarily?”

Benedict took the document.

His eyes moved quickly.

“That's impossible.”

“Why?” Damian asked.

The Ashcroft branch has been in charge for a very long time, decades actually, and that's why they still have control.

Roland nodded.

“Because nobody activated the final clause.”

“What final clause?”

Roland pointed to the bottom of the page.

Damian read it aloud.

When we find the person who is still alive and has a claim to the inheritance, we will take another look at who gets what for now.

He looked up.

“Surviving blood claimant.”

Benedict became completely still.

Damian looked at him.

“That could mean you.”

“It could mean someone else.”

“But your name appears in the original record.”

“Yes.”

“And your family financed part of the empire.”

“Yes.”

Damian's voice lowered.

“Then why were you erased?”

Benedict looked at the document.

“That is what I need to discover.”

Roland nodded.

“Now you're asking the right question.”

A sudden alarm sounded.

Mercer looked toward the ceiling.

“What was that?”

Roland's expression changed.

“They've found the entrance.”

Damian looked at the door.

“Who?”

Roland closed the folder.

“The people who don't want this archive opened.”

Benedict immediately moved toward the exit.

Roland stopped him.

“Not that way.”

“Why?”

“Because they're already outside.”

Benedict looked toward the opposite wall.

“Then where?”

Roland made his way over to a cabinet, and with a bit of effort, he pushed it out of the way.

A narrow passage appeared.

Damian stared.

“Another hidden exit?”

“This archive was designed with three.”

Mercer gave a bitter smile.

“Your grandfather trusted no one.”

Roland looked at him.

“He trusted information.”

They entered the passage.

Benedict followed last.

As he turned to go, he glanced back over his shoulder at the archive, which still lay open.

“We can't leave the files.”

Roland shook his head.

“We don't need to.”

“Why?”

The archive is already linked to a safe online copy.

Damian stopped.

“You copied everything?”

Roland nodded.

“Years ago.”

Benedict stared at him.

"Why did you allow the physical records to stay, wasn't that a mistake?"

Some truths are harder to get rid of when they're stored in more than one place.

A loud impact shook the archive door.

Damian hurried into the passage.

The door closed behind them.

They made their way down a long, narrow corridor, and eventually they came to another set of stairs.

At the top was an old maintenance room.

Roland opened the exit.

They emerged several streets away.

Damian took a deep breath.

“What happens now?”

Roland looked at Benedict.

Those who have been keeping this history a secret will soon realize that the archive is no longer secure.

Benedict nodded.

“Then they'll make their move.”

“Yes.”

Damian looked at the old lawyer.

That's what I heard, someone on the inside at Ashcroft Group was involved in covering up what really happened to Benedict.

Roland nodded.

“Who?”

“I don't have proof yet.”

“Then why tell us?”

“Because I know where the proof is.”

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

“Where?”

Roland looked toward the city.

“Inside Ashcroft headquarters.”

Damian frowned.

“That's impossible. We searched everything.”

“You searched the company records.”

Roland shook his head.

You never looked in your grandfather's private office.

Damian's heart quickened.

“It's been sealed for twenty-five years.”

“Exactly.”

Benedict looked at him.

“What is inside?”

Roland answered quietly.

“The original succession instrument.”

Silence.

Damian understood.

“If we find it, we can prove whether the current succession is legitimate.”

“Yes.”

“And Benedict's connection?”

Roland hesitated.

“That document may answer part of that question.”

“Part?”

Roland nodded.

It explains why his name was taken off.

Damian looked at Benedict.

“And the rest?”

“The rest concerns a woman.”

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

“What woman?”

Roland looked directly at him.

The woman who links the Vandross family to the Ashcrofts.

Benedict's face changed.

It was then that the mystery started to feel really personal, in a way that he just couldn't shake off, no matter how hard he tried.

“Who is she?”

Roland shook his head.

“I won't say.”

“Why?”

“Because someone is listening.”

Damian looked around.

The street appeared empty.

Then his phone vibrated.

He checked the screen.

A message had arrived from an unknown number.

YOU OPENED THE ARCHIVE.

A second message appeared.

NOW OPEN THE OFFICE.

Damian looked at Benedict.

“They know.”

Benedict took the phone.

Another message appeared.

BUT DON'T TRUST THE MAN WHO SHOWED YOU THE WAY.

Benedict's eyes moved slowly toward Roland.

Damian noticed.

“What does that mean?”

Roland's expression remained calm.

“It means exactly what it says.”

Benedict studied him.

“Are you working against us?”

“No.”

“Then who sent the message?”

“I don't know.”

Benedict looked at Mercer.

The old man's face had gone pale.

“What?”

Mercer shook his head.

“Nothing.”

Damian noticed.

“Mercer.”

The old lawyer looked at Benedict.

“I think I know who sent it.”

“Who?”

Mercer swallowed.

The one who's been counting down the moments until now.

Damian stepped closer.

“Who?”

Mercer gazed out at the Ashcroft headquarters, which was visible in the distance.

Then whispered,

“Victor.”

Benedict's expression hardened.

Damian shook his head.

“My father?”

Mercer nodded.

“He knew the archive would eventually be opened.”

Benedict stared at him.

“Then why didn't he stop us?”

Mercer looked at Benedict.

“Because he wants you to find the truth.”

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

“That doesn't sound like Victor.”

“No.”

Mercer lowered his voice.

“It sounds like someone who finally knows he can't hide it anymore.”

Damian looked toward the city.

The Ashcroft Group building was far away, but you could still see its shiny glass tower sparkling in the sunlight.

The business his family had put so much time and effort into over the years didn't seem the same to him anymore.

It wasn't simply an empire.

It was evidence.

Deep within its walls, a secret office was hidden, and inside that office, a document was sealed away, a document that had the power to change everything that was currently known.

Benedict looked at Damian.

“We go back tonight.”

Damian nodded.

However, what they didn't realize was that someone was standing in the window of a building close by, watching them.

The figure held an old photograph.

On the back were four handwritten words: