THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Fifty Four:The Record That Should Not Exist.

Damian stared at the empty cabinet.

The second record was gone.

The person who took it left behind just four words.

HE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING.

Damian read them again.

Then I looked at Benedict.

“You said you didn't know who they meant.”

“I don't.”

“You're sure?”

Benedict's expression remained controlled.

“Yes.”

Victor stepped into the room.

“Give me the paper.”

Damian handed it over.

Victor read the message.

His face changed.

Only for a second.

But Damian saw it.

“You know.”

Victor looked at him.

“I know what it means.”

“Then tell me.”

Victor folded the paper.

“It means someone wants us frightened.”

“That's not what your face said.”

Victor's voice hardened.

“You're becoming too suspicious.”

“Because everyone keeps lying to me.”

Eleanor stepped between them.

“Damian, please.”

“No.”

He looked at her.

“You knew about the succession challenge.”

She lowered her eyes.

“You knew Benedict's name was in the records.”

“Yes.”

“You knew there was another bloodline.”

“Yes.”

You really think I'm buying that this is just about some outdated documents?

Eleanor's voice trembled.

“No.”

The answer silenced him.

Damian waited.

“What is it about?”

Eleanor looked at Benedict.

“Someone has been trying to correct what your grandfather changed.”

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

“Who?”

“I don't know.”

Victor turned sharply.

“Eleanor.”

She looked at him.

“We cannot keep doing this.”

Victor stared at her.

“You don't know what you're saying.”

“I know exactly what I'm saying.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

A quarter of a century has passed since we were assured that the issue of succession had been resolved.

“And it was.”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“We were told it was.”

Damian looked between them.

“What's the difference?”

Eleanor wiped her eyes.

What makes it different is that someone already spoke up against it.

“Who?”

Eleanor hesitated.

“Your grandfather never told us.”

Benedict stepped closer.

“But he told someone.”

Eleanor looked at him.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“The family solicitor.”

Damian immediately understood.

“Mercer.”

Victor's face tightened.

Benedict nodded.

“Then we find him.”

Victor shook his head.

“Mercer is gone.”

“Gone where?”

“No one knows.”

Damian looked at him.

“Convenient.”

Victor's expression hardened.

“Watch yourself.”

“I'm tired of watching myself.”

Damian turned toward Benedict.

“When did you last see Mercer?”

Benedict didn't answer immediately.

“Years ago.”

“How many?”

“Eight.”

Victor looked at him sharply.

Damian noticed.

“You never told us you knew him.”

Benedict's eyes remained on Victor.

“Because there was nothing to tell.”

“There is now.”

Damian picked up the stolen-record notice.

“The person who took the document knew exactly what they were looking for.”

Benedict nodded.

“Which means they knew the archive.”

“Or they had access to someone who did.”

Damian looked toward Victor.

“Someone inside the family.”

Nobody answered.

The silence was starting to speak for itself.

By noon, Damian had made his way to the private security room of the Ashcroft Group, where he took a seat.

Three monitors displayed the manor's surveillance feeds.

The archive.

The eastern corridor.

The rear entrance.

He rewound the footage.

Nothing.

He rewound it again.

Still nothing.

Then he noticed something.

At 3:17 a.m., the archive camera went black.

Not damaged.

Disabled.

For exactly forty-three seconds.

Damian paused the footage.

“Who had access?”

The security chief shook his head.

“Only authorized personnel.”

“Names.”

The man hesitated.

The people mentioned are Chairman Victor Ashcroft, his wife Mrs. Eleanor Ashcroft, yourself, and Mr. Benedict Vandross.

Damian looked at the screen.

“And the security director?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

Damian leaned back.

“So someone on that list is lying.”

The security chief swallowed.

“That's what it appears.”

Damian stood.

“Pull the access logs.”

“We already did.”

“And?”

“There's a problem.”

“What?”

“The logs were altered.”

Damian's expression hardened.

“By whom?”

“We don't know.”

The door opened.

Benedict entered.

“Damian.”

Damian turned.

“We have a problem.”

“I know.”

“No. A bigger one.”

Benedict waited.

“Someone altered the security records.”

Benedict's expression barely changed.

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Before or after the document disappeared?”

“After.”

Benedict considered that.

“Then the theft wasn't improvised.”

Damian nodded.

“Someone planned it.”

Benedict looked at the monitors.

“Did you find anything?”

“Not yet.”

“Keep looking.”

Damian stared at him.

“You're very calm.”

“I've learned that panic doesn't reveal information.”

“Neither does silence.”

Benedict looked at him.

“You're beginning to sound like your grandfather.”

Damian stiffened.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“A warning.”

Before Damian could respond, Benedict's phone rang.

He answered.

“Benedict.”

A man's voice came through.

“Mr. Vandross, you need to leave Ashcroft property.”

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

“Who is this?”

A person who wants to protect you from getting stuck in a difficult situation.

“Of what?”

“The second record.”

Benedict glanced at Damian.

“Where is it?”

The caller laughed quietly.

“You still think the document matters.”

“What matters?”

“The person whose name was removed from it.”

Benedict's expression changed.

Damian noticed immediately.

“Who?”

The caller ignored him.

“You've spent twenty-five years asking the wrong question.”

Benedict's voice became colder.

“Then tell me the right one.”

A pause.

“Ask why your name was written there in the first place.”

The call ended.

Damian stared at Benedict.

“What did he mean?”

Benedict didn't answer.

“Benedict.”

“I don't know.”

Damian shook his head.

“You do.”

Benedict looked at him.

“No.”

He paused.

I've finally got a clue about where to start searching.

“Where?”

Benedict picked up his coat.

“Mercer's last registered office.”

The building had been abandoned for years.

It was located on the older part of Aurelia, and all around it were old businesses that had been closed for a long time.

Damian looked at the faded sign.

MERCER & ASSOCIATES — ATTORNEYS

“This place hasn't been used in years.”

“Officially.”

Benedict walked inside.

Dust covered the reception desk.

The power was disconnected.

There was only one light that could be seen, and it was all the way down at the end of the corridor.

Damian stopped.

“You see that?”

“Yes.”

“Someone's here.”

Benedict moved forward.

The door at the far end of the corridor was open, just a little.

Inside was a small office.

A chair.

A desk.

Several empty shelves.

And one old filing cabinet.

Damian approached it.

Locked.

Benedict examined the lock.

“Don't.”

Damian stopped.

“Why?”

“Look.”

A small wire was tied to the handle.

Damian stepped back.

“A trap?”

“Possibly.”

Benedict carefully removed the wire.

Nothing happened.

He opened the cabinet.

Inside was one file.

Only one.

Damian picked it up.

The label read:

ASHCROFT SUCCESSION — ORIGINAL

His pulse quickened.

“This is it.”

Benedict took the file.

The first page contained the original succession structure.

The second contained Victor's signature.

The third contained Eleanor's.

Finally, they found the page they had been looking for.

Damian leaned closer.

There were two names.

One was familiar.

Damian Ashcroft.

One of them had a section hidden by a black ink strip.

Under the surface, a few letters were still easy to see.

Damian stared.

“That's not Benedict.”

“No.”

“Then who?”

Benedict slowly removed the damaged page.

A faint indentation appeared beneath the black ink.

Someone had written another name over it.

The pen had pressed down so hard that it made a mark that looked like a shadow.

Benedict held the page beneath the light.

Letters began to emerge.

Damian's heart started pounding.

The hidden name was becoming clear.

Then footsteps sounded outside.

Benedict immediately closed the file.

Someone was approaching.

Damian whispered,

“Who is that?”

Benedict shook his head.

The office door opened.

An elderly man stood there.

His face was pale.

His eyes went straight to the file.

Then to Benedict.

“It's too late.”

Benedict stared at him.

“Mercer.”

The old man nodded.

“I wondered when you would come back.”

Damian stepped forward.

“You know him?”

Mercer looked at Damian.

Then at the file.

“You don't understand what that document will do to your family.”

Damian's voice hardened.

“Then tell me.”

Mercer shook his head.

“I can't.”

“Why?”

“Because the person who ordered me to hide the original succession is still alive.”

The room went silent.

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

“Who?”

Mercer looked at him.

Then whispered,

“Someone you trust.”

Damian stared at Mercer.

“Someone I trust?”

Mercer nodded.

“Someone close enough to the family to make decisions without being questioned.”

Damian's eyes narrowed.

“Victor?”

Mercer didn't answer.

“Eleanor?”

Still nothing.

“Then who?”

Mercer looked toward Benedict.

“That's the problem.”

Benedict's expression remained unreadable.

“What problem?”

"It seems the person who made the changes to the record order didn't do it by themselves, they must have had some help."

Damian stepped closer.

“How many people were involved?”

Mercer looked at the old file.

“Three.”

“Who?”

“Your grandfather.”

Damian's face tightened.

“Victor.”

Silence.

“And the third?”

Mercer hesitated.

A person who was intentionally left out of the same record, or someone whose name was erased from it.

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

So you're telling me the person who played a role in getting rid of the succession is actually linked to it somehow? That's a pretty interesting connection - can you explain how that works?

“Yes.”

“How?”

Mercer shook his head.

“I never learned the entire truth.”

Damian pointed at the file.

“But you kept the record.”

“I kept a copy.”

“Why?”

I kept it for a reason, just in case someone would need it someday.

Damian looked at Benedict.

“Proof of what?”

Mercer stared at him.

“That the succession was never legally settled.”

The words landed heavily.

Damian looked down at the document.

“My father is the chairman.”

“Yes.”

“And I'm his son.”

“Yes.”

“So what does this change?”

Mercer's voice became quiet.

“Everything.”

Damian felt his stomach tighten.

“Why?”

“Because the Ashcroft Group was transferred into a structure that depended on the succession remaining uncontested.”

Benedict immediately understood.

“If the succession was never legally settled…”

“The ownership structure can be challenged.”

Damian looked at him.

“By whom?”

Mercer nodded toward the damaged page.

“That's what the missing name tells you.”

Benedict turned the page toward the light again.

The writing that was hidden under the black ink was easier to see now.

Damian leaned closer.

The first letter looked like B.

Then another.

Then another.

His eyes widened.

“Benedict.”

Mercer said nothing.

Damian looked at Benedict.

“Your name was written here.”

Benedict's expression didn't change.

“But it was crossed out.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Mercer answered.

“Because someone didn't want the court to know you had a legitimate connection to the original succession.”

Damian's mind raced.

“You said Benedict was connected to the bloodline.”

“I said that was what your grandfather believed.”

Mercer looked at Benedict.

“I never said he was the heir.”

Benedict's eyes hardened.

“Then what was I?”

Mercer took a slow breath.

“A claimant.”

Silence.

Damian stared at Benedict.

“A claimant to the Ashcroft inheritance?”

“Potentially.”

Benedict's jaw tightened.

“Potentially?”

“Your lineage had not been fully established.”

“Who was my parent?”

Mercer looked away.

“I don't know.”

Benedict stepped toward him.

“You knew enough to alter the record.”

“I knew what your grandfather told me.”

“What did he tell you?”

Mercer hesitated.

“That your existence could destabilize the succession.”

Benedict's voice dropped.

“That isn't an answer.”

“No.”

Mercer looked directly at him.

“It is the only answer I was given.”

Benedict stared at him.

For twenty-five years, he had carried questions no one had been willing to answer.

He stood face to face with a man who had the documents he needed.

And still the truth remained just beyond reach.

Damian looked at Mercer.

“Why did my grandfather fear Benedict?”

Mercer shook his head.

“He didn't fear Benedict.”

“Then what did he fear?”

“The person Benedict might prove himself to be.”

Damian frowned.

“What does that mean?”

Mercer looked at the damaged record.

“If Benedict's lineage could be established, the entire succession structure could be reopened.”

Victor's name suddenly appeared on the page.

Damian pointed.

“Then why did my father sign this?”

Mercer became silent.

“Mercer.”

“He was young.”

“How young?”

“Twenty-four.”

Damian's eyes widened.

“Twenty-four?”

Mercer nodded.

“Victor was given a choice.”

“What choice?”

“Protect the succession or challenge your grandfather.”

“And he chose the succession.”

“Yes.”

Benedict looked away.

Damian saw the disappointment in his face.

“Did Victor know what would happen to you?”

Mercer shook his head.

“He knew you would disappear.”

Benedict turned sharply.

“You're sure?”

“Yes.”

“And he agreed?”

Mercer lowered his eyes.

“He believed you would eventually return.”

Benedict's expression hardened.

“Then why didn't he look for me?”

Mercer didn't answer.

Damian did.

“Because someone convinced him you were dead.”

Mercer looked at Damian.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

The old man hesitated.

“Your grandfather.”

Damian shook his head.

“That isn't enough.”

Mercer looked toward the door.

“We don't have much time.”

Benedict noticed the change in his expression.

“Why?”

Mercer dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a tiny key.

That's not all that's left from back then.

He placed the key on the desk.

“There is another archive.”

Damian stared.

“Where?”

“Under the old Ashcroft legal office.”

Benedict frowned.

“I thought that building was demolished.”

“The building was.”

Mercer gave him a grim smile.

“The archive wasn't.”

Damian looked at the key.

“What is inside?”

“Everything your grandfather didn't want destroyed.”

Benedict picked up the key.

“Why didn't you tell me about it before?”

“Because I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

Mercer looked directly at him.

“Of what you would discover about yourself.”

Just as Benedict was about to say something, a noise echoed from down the hall, catching everyone's attention.

Footsteps.

Mercer froze.

Damian turned toward the door.

“Someone followed us.”

Benedict immediately moved between Damian and the entrance.

Mercer whispered,

“They found me.”

The footsteps stopped outside.

A shadow appeared beneath the door.

Damian's heart raced.

Benedict motioned for him to stay back.

The handle slowly turned.

The door opened.

No one was there.

Damian frowned.

“What?”

Then Mercer noticed something on the floor.

A small envelope.

He picked it up.

His hands began to tremble.

“What is it?”

Mercer opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

He stared at it.

Then handed it to Benedict.

Benedict's expression changed.

Damian stepped closer.

The picture showed three young guys standing outside the old Ashcroft estate.

Victor was one.

Another man stood beside him.

And the third—

Damian stared.

He recognized him.

Not from the photograph.

From somewhere else.

He looked at Benedict.

“Who is that?”

Benedict didn't answer.

Mercer did.

That's the man who assisted your grandfather in removing Benedict from the line of succession.

Damian looked again.

The man's face was familiar.

Then the realization struck him.

He had seen that face in Ashcroft records.

And recently—

inside the company.

Damian's voice dropped.

“He's still alive.”

Mercer nodded.

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

Mercer looked toward the window.

“I believe he's already inside Ashcroft Group.”

Damian's blood ran cold.

Benedict folded the photograph.

“Then we go back.”

Mercer grabbed his arm.

“No.”

Benedict stopped.

He wants to go back to the company if he's already on the inside.

“Then what do you suggest?”

Mercer looked at the key.

“The underground archive.”

Damian stared at him.

“You said it contains everything.”

“Yes.”

“Then that's where we go.”

Mercer nodded.

“But understand something.”

“What?”

"Once we open that archive, there's no turning back, the decision will be final and we'll have to live with the consequences."

Benedict looked at Damian.

Damian looked at the photograph.

Then at the key.

“We've already gone too far.”

Benedict gave a faint nod.

“Then we finish it.”

They left the office through the rear entrance.

None of them noticed the small camera hidden above the doorway.

The red light blinked once.

Then a voice came through a hidden receiver.

“They have the key.”

Another voice answered.

“Good.”

“And the photograph?”

“They saw him.”

A pause.

“Then the next move begins.”

The receiver went silent.

Deep within the Ashcroft Group headquarters, a man slowly pulled out an old drawer.

There was a picture inside that looked exactly like the one Mercer had given to Benedict.

He looked at the young face beside Victor.

Then at the name written beneath it.

BENEDICT VANDROSS.

He slowly smiled.

“Twenty-five years,” he whispered.

Then he closed the drawer.

You're finally returning to where everything began.

.