THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Forty Eight: What Eleanor Remembered

Benedict couldn't take his eyes off Eleanor.

"You received the child?"

Eleanor nodded slowly.

"Twenty-five years ago."

Damian looked between them.

"What child?"

Eleanor didn't answer him.

Her eyes remained on Benedict.

That night, the fire broke out and everything went crazy. Smoke was all over the place, making it hard to see or breathe. People were rushing around, trying to get out of there as fast as they could. I could hear screams coming from the eastern corridor, it was really scary.

She paused.

I was really scared, I thought the whole wing was going to come crashing down.

Benedict's voice was quiet.

"Who brought the child to you?"

"A woman."

"Isabella?"

Eleanor shook her head.

"No."

"Clara?"

Eleanor looked surprised.

"You know her name?"

"I've heard it."

She looked away.

"Then you know more than I expected."

Benedict stepped closer.

"What did she tell you?"

She informed me that the child was not allowed to stay at the manor.

"Why?"

"Because someone had ordered him killed."

Damian went still.

"Who?"

Eleanor looked at him.

"I never learned the name."

Benedict watched her carefully.

"Did you believe her?"

"At first, no."

"Then?"

"Then she showed me the child."

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.

"He was so small."

She closed her eyes.

"I remember the bracelet around his wrist."

Benedict's heart tightened.

"The silver bracelet?"

Eleanor looked at him.

"Yes."

Silence settled over the room.

Benedict remembered the photograph.

The same bracelet.

The same child.

"Why did you think he was dead?"

She said that because the woman had informed her that he had gotten hurt.

"Was he?"

"Not seriously."

Eleanor swallowed.

"He was unconscious."

Benedict's voice became sharper.

"Then what happened?"

"I took him to a safe room."

"Where?"

"Inside the manor."

"Which room?"

Eleanor hesitated.

"The old nursery."

Benedict remembered the nursery.

The room no one used anymore.

The room that had always made Eleanor uncomfortable.

"What happened there?"

"I waited."

"For whom?"

"Victor."

Benedict's expression changed.

"Victor knew?"

"He knew there was a child."

"Did he know it was the heir?"

Eleanor shook her head.

"I don't know."

"You must have told him."

"I tried."

"What did he say?"

Eleanor's face tightened.

"He told me not to ask questions."

Benedict felt anger rising.

"What did you do?"

"I disobeyed him."

She looked toward the floor.

"I took the child away."

Damian stared.

"You?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"To the chapel."

Benedict's pulse quickened.

The chapel.

Another piece of the old mystery.

"Who was waiting there?"

Eleanor shook her head.

"No one."

"Then why go there?"

"Because Gabriel told me to."

Benedict froze.

"Gabriel?"

"Yes."

"Where was he?"

"I don't know."

"Did he know the child was alive?"

"He did."

Eleanor looked at Benedict.

He advised me to take the child to someone I could really trust and feel comfortable with.

"Who?"

"An old family physician."

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

"Name?"

"Dr. Marcus Hale."

The name meant nothing to him.

"Where is he now?"

"Dead."

"When?"

"Twenty years ago."

Benedict's frustration grew.

"Then how can we find out what happened?"

Eleanor walked toward a cabinet.

She removed an old leather folder.

"I kept his records."

Benedict stared.

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't forget."

She placed the folder on the table.

Inside were medical notes.

A discharge form.

And a photograph.

Benedict lifted it.

His hands began to shake.

It was the child.

Alive.

Older.

The silver bracelet is still around his wrist.

There was a date written on the back of the picture.

Twenty-four years ago.

And beneath it:

Transferred under a protected identity.

Benedict looked at Eleanor.

"Where?"

She hesitated.

"I don't know."

"You must."

"I knew where he was being taken."

"Where?"

The person who took him said he would never come back to Ashcroft Manor.

Benedict stared at the photograph.

"Who took him?"

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.

"Daniel Cross."

Benedict froze.

Daniel.

The man's daughter had just given him a path to follow.

"Daniel took the child?"

"Yes."

"Then he knew where the child went."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because Victor believed the child had died."

"And you let him believe it."

"I thought I was protecting the boy."

Benedict lowered the photograph.

"You were."

Eleanor looked at him.

For a moment, something passed between them.

Recognition.

Not certainty.

But something close.

Then Damian spoke.

"Why would Daniel hide the child from the family?"

Eleanor looked at him.

"Because the child wasn't safe."

"From Victor?"

She hesitated.

"Not only Victor."

Benedict looked at her.

"Who else?"

Eleanor opened the final page in the folder.

There was a handwritten note.

If the child ever returns, the first person he must not trust is the person who believes the family belongs to him.

Benedict stared at the words.

Damian frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Eleanor looked at Benedict.

"I don't know."

But Benedict knew there was another meaning.

Someone had anticipated his return.

It was almost as if someone had a feeling that the child would eventually return, like they had been waiting for this moment all along.

His phone vibrated.

A message from an unknown number.

You are looking in the wrong place.

Another followed.

The Architect is the key.

Benedict's face went cold.

Someone knew.

Not only about the missing heir.

About him.

Benedict read the message again.

The Architect is the key.

His first instinct was to delete it.

Instead, he showed it to Damian.

Damian's expression hardened.

"Who knows about that name?"

"Very few people."

"What does it have to do with the child?"

"I don't know."

Eleanor looked between them.

"What is an Architect?"

Benedict turned toward her.

"Someone who solves problems."

Her eyes remained on him.

"That's not what I mean."

Eleanor glanced at the picture Benedict was holding before he had a chance to say anything.

"She spoke in a hushed tone, recalling the child's intelligence, even from a very young age, it was evident."

Benedict frowned.

"You remember him?"

"I remember his eyes."

The words unsettled him.

She looked at Benedict again.

"Sometimes people leave pieces of themselves behind before they even understand who they are."

Benedict said nothing.

His phone vibrated again.

This time, the message contained a photograph.

It showed the old Ashcroft Manor.

A red circle marked the eastern wing.

Underneath was one sentence:

Find what Daniel couldn't destroy.

Benedict immediately understood.

"Room 17."

Damian looked at him.

"What?"

"The record Daniel hid."

He turned toward Eleanor.

"You said the original is with you."

Eleanor nodded.

"I kept a copy."

"Then where is the original?"

She hesitated.

"I gave it to Victor."

Benedict's expression changed.

"When?"

"Years ago."

"Does he still have it?"

"I don't know."

Damian stepped forward.

"We need to ask him."

Benedict shook his head.

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"Because someone is moving faster than we are."

He looked at the photograph.

"Someone knows about the Architect."

Damian stared at him.

"And if they know that?"

"They may know who the Architect is."

Silence.

Benedict folded the photograph.

"Which means they may already be watching me."

Eleanor's face tightened.

"Then you need to leave."

"No."

"Benedict—"

"I've spent too long wondering why my life never made sense."

He gazed at the faded picture of the little boy.

"I'm not running now."

Eleanor stepped closer.

For a brief moment, it seemed like she had the urge to reach out and gently touch his face.

Instead, she stopped herself.

"There is something else."

Benedict waited.

When Daniel took our child away, he gave me only one instruction to follow.

"What?"

Eleanor's voice trembled.

He told me that if the boy ever came back to Ashcroft Manor, I should pay attention to who noticed him first.

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

"Who recognized him first?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"Because no one knew the boy had survived."

She looked directly at him.

"Until now."

The words hung between them.

Damian's phone suddenly rang.

He answered.

His expression changed almost immediately.

"What happened?"

He listened.

Then I looked at Benedict.

"The board has called an emergency meeting."

"Why?"

"The lenders have received another document."

"What document?"

Damian swallowed.

"A claim against Ashcroft Group."

"From whom?"

"An unnamed beneficiary."

Benedict's mind raced.

The trust.

The missing heir.

Daniel's records.

The Architect.

Everything was converging.

He looked at Eleanor.

"Keep the photograph."

She shook her head.

"No."

She handed it back.

"It belongs to you."

Benedict took it.

It was then that he saw something that had escaped his attention before.

The child's face was turned a little to the side, facing the camera.

Behind him stood a woman.

Her face was partially hidden.

But around her wrist was a silver bracelet.

The same bracelet the child wore.

Benedict looked at Eleanor.

"Who is she?"

Eleanor stared at the photograph.

Her face went pale.

"I don't know."

Benedict studied the image.

But something inside him said otherwise.

She knew.

Perhaps she simply wasn't ready to say it.

He slipped the photograph into his coat.

"Then I'll find out."

As he was heading out the door, Eleanor suddenly called out to him.

"Benedict."

He turned.

"If you discover who you are..."

She struggled to finish the sentence.

"...don't let them decide what you become."

Benedict held her gaze.

"I won't."

He left the room.

Behind him, Eleanor remained motionless.

She knew something was changing.

The boy they thought was gone forever was now more than just a memory.

He was standing in front of them.

Deep within the Ashcroft Group, a claim had been triggered, threatening to uncover secrets that had long been hidden.

Benedict had spent years building other people's futures.

Now he was finally going to build something that was all his own.