THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Forty Two:The Name Behind the Fire

Benedict stared at the transaction record.

Isabella Vale.

Six months after the fire.

He read the date again.

Then once more.

It hadn't changed.

"You're certain?" he asked.

Mara's voice came through the phone.

The payment came from Daniel Cross's personal account.

"Not Ashcroft Holdings?"

"No."

Benedict stood and walked toward the window.

"So Daniel was still communicating with Isabella after the fire."

"That's what the records suggest."

"Where was the payment sent?"

"To an account registered under her name."

"Where?"

Mara hesitated.

"Port Harcourt."

Benedict turned.

"Port Harcourt?"

"Yes."

This was the city where Clara had once lived, but back then she had gone by a different name.

His mind immediately connected the pieces.

"Find the account holder's address."

"I already did."

Benedict waited.

"It was an old boarding house."

"Is it still there?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"Demolished eleven years ago."

Benedict's jaw tightened.

"Of course."

"There is something else."

"What?"

"The account was closed shortly after the payment."

"When?"

"Three days later."

"By Isabella?"

"No."

"Then who?"

"The authorization is missing."

Again.

Another erased name.

Another missing signature.

Benedict closed his eyes.

Someone had spent years making sure the trail ended exactly where the truth began.

"Send me everything."

"I will."

At Ashcroft Manor, Damian was still thinking about the stolen ledger.

Whoever had taken it had known exactly what they were searching for.

That bothered him more than the theft itself.

He returned to the archive.

The room looked untouched.

But Damian knew better.

He knelt down beside the shelf, where the ledger was usually kept.

Something caught his attention.

A small piece of paper had slipped down behind the cabinet.

He pulled it out.

There were only four words.

Cross. Vale. Room Seventeen.

Damian stared at them.

His pulse quickened.

He immediately called Benedict.

"What now?"

"I found another clue."

"What?"

"Four words."

Damian read them.

Benedict became silent.

"Where did you find them?"

"Behind the shelf where the ledger was kept."

"Don't show anyone."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Keep it safe."

Damian folded the paper.

"Do you think the thief left it?"

"Maybe."

"Why would they?"

"Perhaps they wanted us to find it."

Damian frowned.

"So it could be a trap."

"Exactly."

Benedict returned to the Ashcroft Manor that evening.

Victor was waiting in the study.

Benedict placed the transaction record on the desk.

"Isabella was alive six months after the fire."

Victor stared at the paper.

His face changed.

"You found her."

"No."

Benedict's voice hardened.

"But someone paid her."

Victor picked up the document.

His hands trembled.

"Where?"

"Port Harcourt."

Victor lowered the paper.

"Then she survived."

"You knew?"

"I hoped."

"That's not an answer."

Victor looked at him.

"I never saw her body."

"Did you search for her?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I believed she had the child."

Benedict's expression changed.

"You thought Isabella escaped with the boy?"

Victor nodded.

"After the fire, Margaret disappeared."

"And Isabella?"

"She vanished too."

"So you assumed they were together."

"Yes."

Benedict leaned forward.

"Then why did you tell everyone the child was gone?"

Victor looked away.

"Because someone wanted the family to believe that."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

Benedict's patience was disappearing.

"Dad, it seems like every time you respond to me, you always end up saying the same thing."

Victor looked at him.

I never felt like I was in charge of what was happening.

"Who was?"

Victor didn't answer.

Benedict stepped closer.

"Was it your father?"

Victor's silence was enough.

Benedict nodded slowly.

"So he knew."

"Yes."

"He knew Isabella was alive?"

"I don't know."

"He knew about the child?"

"Yes."

He wanted to cut the child out of the will.

Victor closed his eyes.

"Yes."

Benedict stared at him.

The truth was finally beginning to take shape.

But one question remained.

"Why was Isabella dangerous?"

Victor opened his eyes.

"Because she knew who the father was."

Benedict froze.

"Then you do know."

Victor shook his head.

"I know what she claimed."

"What did she claim?"

Victor looked toward the closed door.

"She said the child belonged to someone the family could never publicly acknowledge."

Benedict's voice dropped.

"Who?"

Victor swallowed.

"She never gave me the name."

Eleanor was standing outside the study.

She had heard enough.

She turned away before Benedict could see her.

Something had returned to her memory.

A conversation.

Isabella standing in the library.

Victor beside her.

Isabella crying.

And one sentence.

"If he discovers the child, he'll destroy everything."

Eleanor stopped walking.

She had always thought that when Isabella said it, she was talking about the man in charge of the family.

But now she wasn't sure.

She went back to her room and opened an old box made of wood.

Inside was the photograph.

And beneath it...

There was a piece of paper that had been folded up, and it caught her attention because she had never seen it before.

She opened it.

Her hands began to shake.

There was a name.

Not the child's.

Not Isabella's.

Not Daniel's.

The name of the man Isabella had feared.

Eleanor whispered it aloud.

Then immediately covered her mouth.

Because she knew that name.

And if the name was connected to the child...

The truth about the Ashcroft family was even more alarming than she could have ever thought possible.

Eleanor stared at the name on the paper.

She had not seen it written in years.

Yet she recognized it immediately.

Gabriel Ashcroft.

Her husband's older brother.

Victor's brother.

The guy who was thought to have died before the fire.

Her hand began to tremble.

"No."

She folded the paper quickly.

But the memory had already returned.

Gabriel standing in the library.

Isabella facing him.

Victor near the door.

And the child is crying somewhere beyond them.

Eleanor remembered Gabriel's voice.

"The boy cannot remain in this family."

She had forgotten that sentence.

Or perhaps she had forced herself to forget it.

Her phone rang.

Victor.

She answered.

"Where are you?"

"In the library."

"I need you to leave."

"Why?"

"Because Gabriel's name has appeared again."

Silence.

Eleanor closed her eyes.

"You knew."

Victor's breathing changed.

"What did you find?"

"His name."

Another silence.

You said Gabriel died before the fire, right, Victor?

"I believed he did."

"You believed?"

"I never saw his body."

Eleanor's heart sank.

"Then he's alive."

"I don't know."

"You always say that."

Victor said nothing.

She lowered her voice.

"If Gabriel survived, then he could be the person Isabella was afraid of."

Victor's voice became quiet.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Benedict arrived moments later.

Eleanor showed him the paper.

He read the name.

"Gabriel Ashcroft."

"Victor's brother," Eleanor said.

Benedict looked at her.

"I thought he was dead."

"So did everyone."

"Except Victor."

Eleanor shook her head.

"No. I think Victor suspected."

Benedict folded the paper.

"Then we find out."

Damian was already searching the family archives.

He found Gabriel's official death certificate.

But something immediately bothered him.

The document was released half a year later, six months after the fire had occurred.

Damian frowned.

If Gabriel had died before the fire, why was his death registered afterward?

He searched further.

A second record appeared.

Gabriel Ashcroft — Status: Missing.

The date was the night of the fire.

Damian stared at the screen.

Two records.

Two different stories.

He called Benedict.

"I found Gabriel."

"Alive?"

"I don't know."

"What did you find?"

He was last seen on the night of the fire, and after that, he vanished.

Benedict became silent.

"His death certificate was issued six months later."

"That's impossible."

"Exactly."

Benedict looked toward Eleanor.

"Someone changed the story after the fire."

Damian continued.

"There is one more thing."

"What?"

"Gabriel had access to the eastern wing."

Benedict's expression hardened.

"Room 17?"

"Yes."

The connection was becoming impossible to ignore.

Gabriel had access to the room.

He knew about Isabella.

He knew about the child.

And according to Eleanor's memory...

He wanted the child gone.

That night, Benedict went back to the old estate records.

He found the original floor plan.

Room 17 was accessible through one entrance, which was located on the eastern corridor.

But there was another door.

There was a small service entrance that had been closed off years ago, it was really narrow too.

Benedict stared at it.

"Where did this lead?"

Damian looked over his shoulder.

"According to the plan?"

He traced the line.

"Outside the manor."

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

It's possible that the kid could have been taken away without anyone noticing.

Damian nodded.

"Or someone could have entered."

Benedict thought of the fire.

The emergency call.

The words:

Get him out.

And now Gabriel.

A man who had disappeared that same night.

His phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

One message.

You're looking in the wrong place.

Another followed.

Gabriel didn't start the fire.

Benedict stared at the screen.

A third message appeared.

He was trying to stop it.

He froze.

If that was true, everything changed.

Gabriel might not have been the person who wanted the child erased.

He might have been trying to save him.

Benedict typed:

Who are you?

The reply came immediately.

Someone who was there.

Then:

Find the service entrance.

The messages disappeared.

Benedict looked at Damian.

"We're going back to the eastern wing."

Near midnight, Benedict stood before the sealed entrance.

Dust covered the old doorway.

Damian brought a flashlight.

"Should we open it?"

Benedict nodded.

They forced the lock.

The door creaked open.

A narrow passage stretched into darkness.

At the far end was another door.

Benedict pushed it open.

Beyond it was a small abandoned room.

Nothing remained except an old wooden chair.

And beneath it...

A metal box.

Benedict crouched.

He opened it.

Inside was a single document.

His heartbeat quickened.

The heading read:

PRIVATE GUARDIANSHIP AGREEMENT

Benedict slowly unfolded the pages.

There was a child's name.

Just as he was about to finish reading, the lights behind them suddenly went out.

Damian turned.

"Did you hear that?"

Footsteps echoed through the passage.

Someone was coming.

Benedict grabbed the document.

"Run."

They moved toward the exit.

Just as Benedict was about to reach the door, a voice suddenly emerged from the darkness, stopping him in his tracks.

"Don't."

He stopped.

The voice was older.

Calm.

Familiar.

You've been searching for the wrong person for twenty-four years.

Benedict stared into the darkness.

"Who are you?"

A figure stepped forward.

The light wasn't strong enough to show his face.

The man spoke one final sentence.

Gabriel Ashcroft wasn't the one who took the child.

He paused.

He was the one who attempted to rescue him.