THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Forty: The Woman They Erased

Benedict stared at Victor.

The room had gone completely silent.

The issue at hand was no longer about whether or not a child had existed.

They already knew there had been one.

The question was who the child belonged to.

What was it about him that the Ashcroft family wanted to get rid of so badly.

"Who was the child's mother?" Benedict asked again.

Victor looked toward the old family portraits.

"Her name was Isabella Vale."

Eleanor's expression changed.

"Vale?"

Victor nodded.

"She was Margaret's younger sister."

Benedict frowned.

"Why have I never heard her name?"

Her name was taken off the family records, that's why.

"By whom?"

Victor hesitated.

"Your grandfather ordered the records sealed."

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

Isabella had gotten involved with a person from the Ashcroft family, which was the reason.

Damian stepped forward.

"Who?"

Victor didn't answer.

Benedict looked directly at him.

"Who was the father?"

"I don't know."

Benedict's expression hardened.

"You expect me to believe that?"

I'm certain about what I witnessed and what I was informed, but I was never given any concrete evidence to confirm who the father is.

"Then why was the child considered an heir?"

Victor's silence lasted several seconds.

The family was frightened because there was sufficient evidence to cause them concern.

Damian stared at him.

"Afraid of what?"

"Of what would happen if the child was officially acknowledged."

Benedict understood.

"His inheritance."

Victor nodded.

"The existing succession arrangements would have been challenged."

It seems like something suspicious is going on, and someone might have had a motive to make this person vanish.

"Yes."

"Who?"

Victor shook his head.

"I never knew."

Benedict looked toward Eleanor.

She had gone pale.

"You remember something."

Eleanor swallowed.

"Fragments."

"Tell me."

She closed her eyes.

"I remember Isabella coming to the manor."

"When?"

"Before the fire."

"What did she want?"

"Protection."

"From whom?"

Eleanor opened her eyes.

"She was afraid someone would take her child."

Benedict's jaw tightened.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Did she mention the father?"

"No."

"Did she tell you where the child was?"

Eleanor hesitated.

She said that the child had the right to carry the Ashcroft family name.

The words settled heavily over the room.

Benedict looked at Victor.

"And that's why he had to disappear."

Victor nodded.

"Someone believed the safest way to protect the family's existing inheritance was to make sure the child could never claim it."

Later that afternoon, Eleanor returned to the library.

Something about Isabella's name continued to trouble her.

She opened the old wooden box again.

She examined every corner.

As she searched, her fingers stumbled upon a tiny groove hidden beneath the lining.

She pressed it.

A hidden compartment opened.

Inside was a photograph.

Eleanor pulled it out.

Isabella stood beside a much younger Victor.

She was visibly pregnant.

Eleanor turned the photograph over.

Two words had been written on the back.

He knows.

Below them was a second sentence.

Ask the woman who raised him.

Eleanor's heart began to pound.

She immediately called Benedict.

"I found something."

He arrived minutes later.

She handed him the photograph.

"Isabella."

Benedict studied it.

"Who is the woman who raised him?"

"I don't know."

"But someone knew."

Eleanor nodded.

"There was a nursery attendant."

"Name?"

"Clara Bennett."

Benedict looked at the old household register.

"She worked here?"

"Yes."

"When did she leave?"

"Two days after the fire."

Benedict's expression changed.

"Find her."

Mara found Clara Bennett the following day.

She had been living a quiet life, going by the name Clara Morgan.

Benedict went alone.

He didn't want to scare her by bringing in a whole team of people to ask her questions.

The house was small and modest.

He knocked.

An elderly woman opened the door.

The moment she saw him, her expression changed.

Not recognition.

Fear.

"You are Clara Bennett?"

The woman stared at him.

"Who are you?"

"Benedict Ashcroft."

Her hand tightened around the door.

"I don't know that name."

Benedict noticed the hesitation.

"You worked at Ashcroft Manor."

She looked away.

"That was a long time ago."

"You knew Margaret Vale."

Clara remained silent.

"And Isabella."

Her face changed again.

Benedict knew he had reached something important.

"You knew the child too."

Clara slowly opened the door.

"Come inside."

Clara sat across from him.

For several minutes, she said nothing.

Then she whispered,

"I wondered when someone would come."

"Why?"

"Because the past doesn't stay buried forever."

Benedict leaned forward.

"Did you raise the child?"

"For a short time."

"How long?"

"Only long enough to get him somewhere safe."

"Where?"

"St. Raphael's."

"Daniel Cross brought him there."

Clara looked at him sharply.

"You found Daniel's records."

"Yes."

She sighed.

"Then you already know more than most."

"I need the rest."

Clara looked down at her hands.

"Margaret asked me to help."

"Where was Isabella?"

"She was gone."

"Dead?"

"I don't know."

Benedict's eyes sharpened.

"You never saw her after the fire?"

"No."

"What happened to the child?"

"I took him to St. Raphael's."

"Why didn't you keep him?"

I was told someone would come for him, that's why I did it.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Did Daniel know?"

"Yes."

"Who came?"

Clara hesitated.

"A woman."

"Who?"

"I never learned her name."

"Did she identify herself?"

"No."

"Then how did she get the child?"

Clara looked at him.

"She knew what to ask for."

Benedict waited.

"She asked for Ben."

His pulse quickened.

"Ben?"

Clara nodded.

That's what was on the file.

Benedict stared at her.

"Was that his real name?"

"I don't know."

"Then why was it written there?"

"Margaret told me to use it."

Benedict sat back.

Another piece.

But still no certainty.

Did you know that the child was actually an heir to the Ashcroft family?

Clara's expression became sad.

"I knew he had a claim."

"To the Ashcroft inheritance?"

"Yes."

"Who told you?"

"Margaret."

"Did she tell you who his father was?"

Clara shook her head.

"No."

"Then how could she know he had a claim?"

She warned me that if the family found out, it could put me in a tough spot, so she shared the truth with me.

Benedict stared at her.

"What truth?"

Clara hesitated.

"I never knew the whole truth."

The answer frustrated him.

"But you knew enough to be afraid."

Clara nodded.

"Everyone who knew enough was afraid."

Before Benedict left, Clara stopped him.

"There is something else."

He turned.

"What?"

It's not just your family that's searching for answers.

Benedict frowned.

"Who else?"

Clara shook her head.

"I don't know."

"Then why tell me?"

Someone has been asking about the kid again.

"Who?"

"A man."

"His name?"

"I never heard it."

"What did he want?"

Clara looked directly at Benedict.

"The same thing you want."

"The truth?"

"No."

She paused.

"Proof."

Benedict's expression tightened.

"Proof of what?"

Clara's voice dropped.

"That the child was really an Ashcroft."

Benedict stood silently.

That changed the situation.

It seems like someone had more in mind than just figuring out who the child was.

Someone wanted evidence.

Evidence that could affect the Ashcroft inheritance.

Just as Benedict was about to ask something else, his phone suddenly buzzed.

An unknown message.

You found Clara.

Another appeared.

Now find the document Daniel hid.

Then the final message:

It proves who the heir was.

Benedict stared at the screen.

He looked back at Clara.

"Where is Daniel's document?"

Her face went pale.

"I don't know."

However, the fear he saw in her eyes revealed a different story.

She knew more than she had said.

Benedict stepped toward the door.

Behind him, Clara whispered,

"Be careful."

He stopped.

"Why?"

"Because if that document still exists..."

She swallowed.

"Someone is willing to do whatever it takes to stop you from discovering the truth, even if it means resorting to violence."

Benedict walked out.

The mystery had changed again.

The child had survived.

The child had a claim.

Somewhere, a document had been hidden away for twenty-four years, and it had the power to reveal the truth about his identity.

But Benedict still hadn't figured out the one thing that really mattered.

Who was the boy?

And why did someone keep calling him Ben?