THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Forty One: The Document Daniel Hid

Benedict didn't return to Ashcroft Manor.

Not yet.

Clara's warning followed him all the way back to the city.

Someone is willing to go to great lengths, even murder, to prevent you from discovering the truth.

The document.

Daniel Cross had hidden something twenty-four years ago—something powerful enough to prove the identity of the Ashcroft heir.

Benedict sat in his car outside his hotel and opened the photograph Clara had given him.

Nothing in the image appeared unusual.

But Daniel had left clues everywhere.

The eastern wing.

St. Raphael's.

The guardianship papers.

The mysterious payment from Ashcroft Holdings.

And now...

A hidden document.

Benedict called Mara.

"I need everything on Daniel Cross's private files."

"I've already searched for what I could."

"Not enough."

"What are you looking for?"

"Things made in the three months leading up to the fire."

Mara was silent.

"That's a lot."

"Then start with his legal work."

"Any particular type?"

"Guardianship. Estate planning. Inheritance. Property transfers."

"Understood."

"And Mara?"

"Yes?"

"Don't access the Ashcroft system."

"Why?"

"Because someone is watching."

She understood immediately.

"I'll work offline."

"Good."

Benedict ended the call.

He looked through the windshield.

Twenty-four years ago, Daniel had known something important.

And instead of destroying it...

He had hidden it.

So Daniel figured it was only a matter of time before someone showed up.

Maybe he thought the truth would outlive him.

Damian was standing in the archive room at Ashcroft Manor.

Dust covered the old shelves.

He had spent hours searching through documents no one had touched in years.

Then he found something.

A small ledger.

The cover carried no title.

He opened it.

Most of the pages were blank.

Some of the notes were written in Daniel Cross's own handwriting.

Damian knew it right away from the papers he had looked at before.

He read the first entry.

Private instruction received.

The date was twenty-four years ago.

Three months before the fire.

The next line made his pulse quicken.

Subject: Isabella Vale.

Damian turned the page.

The rest had been torn out.

"Of course."

He carefully examined the binding.

Something was tucked inside.

A narrow strip of paper.

He pulled it free.

Only a few words remained.

The child must never be registered under his father's name.

Damian stared at the sentence.

His phone rang.

Benedict.

"Did you find something?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Daniel had a private ledger."

"Where?"

"In the Ashcroft archives."

"What does it say?"

Damian hesitated.

"It mentions Isabella."

Benedict's voice became serious.

"Read it."

"I only found one intact line."

"What line?"

Damian told him.

Silence followed.

Then Benedict asked,

"Does it identify the father?"

"No."

"Anything about the child?"

The issue was that he wasn't meant to be listed under his dad's name, it was a mistake that needed to be fixed.

Benedict exhaled slowly.

"Send me a photograph."

"I will."

Damian took the picture.

Just as he was about to send it, the lights in the archive suddenly went out, plunging everything into darkness.

He froze.

A faint sound came from behind the shelves.

Someone was moving.

"Damian?"

Benedict's voice came through the phone.

"Are you there?"

Damian lowered his voice.

"Someone is inside the archive."

"What?"

"Don't call anyone."

He ended the call.

The footsteps stopped.

Damian stood perfectly still.

Then a shadow moved between the shelves.

He stepped backward.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

The figure moved again.

Damian quickly snatched up the ledger and made a dash for the door.

The lights suddenly returned.

The room was empty.

But the ledger was gone.

Damian looked down at his hands.

He still held the torn strip of paper.

Whoever had entered had taken only the ledger.

They knew exactly what they wanted.

Benedict arrived at Ashcroft Manor minutes later.

Damian was waiting outside the archive.

"Did you see them?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"Someone took the ledger."

Benedict looked inside.

"Nothing else?"

Damian shook his head.

"They left this."

He handed him the torn strip.

Benedict read it.

The child must never be registered under his father's name.

His expression hardened.

"Someone knew about the child before the fire."

"That's what it looks like."

Benedict looked at Damian.

"Did you photograph the ledger?"

"I tried."

"Did you send it?"

"No."

"Then the only proof we have is this."

Damian nodded.

Benedict folded the paper carefully.

Then he noticed something on the floor.

A small piece of black leather.

He picked it up.

It seemed like it had come loose from a bag or a briefcase.

Damian frowned.

"Whoever came here carried it."

Benedict examined it.

There was an embossed mark.

A single letter.

D.

Damian looked at him.

"Daniel?"

"Maybe."

"But Daniel died years ago."

Benedict stared at the mark.

"Then someone may still have his belongings."

Or...

Someone had deliberately chosen to make them think of Daniel.

He slipped the leather fragment into his pocket.

"We have to get our hands on that document before it falls into the wrong hands, no matter what it takes."

That night, Benedict returned to the hotel.

Mara had sent him another message.

I found something about Daniel's Swiss account.

He called immediately.

"What?"

"There was more to it than just the payment from Ashcroft Holdings."

Benedict sat up.

"How many?"

"Two."

"When?"

"The first was three months before the fire."

"And the second?"

Mara hesitated.

The second one was built six months later, after the fire had happened.

Benedict's expression changed.

"Daniel was still being paid."

"Yes."

"For what?"

"I don't know."

"Find out."

"I will."

Benedict looked at the strip of paper on the table.

The child had been hidden.

The records had been altered.

Daniel got his money both before and after the fire happened.

And someone had just stolen his ledger.

The past wasn't simply resurfacing.

Someone was actively protecting it.

Mara spoke up, and her words had a profound effect on Benedict, causing him to freeze in place, his entire body motionless.

"There is one more detail."

"What?"

"The second payment wasn't sent to Daniel."

"Then who received it?"

Mara lowered her voice.

"A woman."

"Name?"

"Isabella Vale."

Benedict's heart stopped.

He stared into the darkness.

Isabella had supposedly disappeared before the fire.

Yet six months after the fire...

Someone had sent money to her.

Which meant one terrifying possibility remained.

Isabella Vale may have survived.

Benedict found Eleanor in the library.

She stood there, right next to the window, with an old photo in her hand.

"Mother?"

She turned quickly.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Why?"

Eleanor looked at the photograph.

"Because I found something."

Benedict stepped closer.

"What?"

She handed him the picture.

He recognized Isabella immediately.

But this time, something else caught his attention.

A man stood behind her.

His face was partially hidden.

"Who is he?"

"I don't know."

Benedict studied the image.

"You're lying."

Eleanor looked away.

"I remember seeing him."

"When?"

"That night."

Benedict's expression tightened.

"At the fire?"

She nodded.

"He was arguing with Isabella."

"About the child?"

"I think so."

"What did he say?"

Eleanor closed her eyes.

A fragment returned.

A man's voice.

Angry.

"The child cannot remain here."

Then Isabella's response.

Everyone deserves to know their own identity.

Eleanor opened her eyes.

"I don't remember anything else."

Benedict looked at the photograph again.

"Can you identify him?"

"No."

"Then we'll find out."

He turned toward the door.

"Wait."

Eleanor stopped him.

"There is something you should know."

"What?"

"Isabella wasn't afraid of the family."

Benedict turned.

"Then who was she afraid of?"

Eleanor's voice dropped.

"The man in that photograph."

Later that night, Benedict met Mara.

She was able to get back some of the information from the second payment that was made.

"There was a note attached to the transaction."

"What does it say?"

Mara handed him the copy.

Only one sentence remained legible:

Payment made for continued protection.

Benedict stared at it.

"Protection for Isabella?"

"That's what it looks like."

"Then someone knew she was alive."

"Yes."

"Who?"

Mara shook her head.

"The authorization was removed."

Benedict almost laughed.

"Of course it was."

He folded the document.

"Find the original account."

"I'll try."

"And find the man in the photograph."

Mara looked at the image.

"I'll need a better copy."

"Get one."

She nodded.

Benedict stood.

This time it was different, he wasn't just searching for a missing kid, he was looking for something more.

He was hot on the heels of the person who wanted that kid wiped out.

His phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

One message.

Stop searching for Isabella.

A second message appeared.

She paid for your survival.

Benedict froze.

His eyes narrowed.

Your survival.

The words weren't about the child.

They were about him.

Before he could respond, another message arrived.

If you find her, you will finally understand why you were never supposed to remember.

Benedict stared at the screen.

Then the messages disappeared.

He looked toward the photograph of Isabella.

It was as if the mystery had finally hit home, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why it felt so much closer now.

Someone wasn't afraid of what he might discover.

They were afraid of what he might remember.