THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Sixteen: Echoes Without Memories

The library fell into complete silence.

The room was quiet, except for the gentle popping and crackling of the fire as it burned in the fireplace.

Benedict stood frozen near the doorway.

Across the room...

Eleanor stared at him.

Neither of them spoke.

The single word still lingered in the air.

Eleanor.

Not "Madam."

Not "Mrs. Ashcroft."

Just...

Eleanor.

Benedict frowned slightly.

He couldn't understand why he had said it.

He had spoken to her with respect for almost thirty years, never once using a harsh word.

Yet this time...

The name had escaped naturally.

Almost instinctively.

He lowered his head.

"My apologies, Madam."

"I don't know why I..."

Eleanor slowly raised a hand.

"It's all right."

Her voice was unusually soft.

"You've never done that before."

"I know."

Benedict answered honestly.

"And I can't explain it."

For several moments...

Neither of them moved.

Finally, Eleanor closed the old journal before her.

"I couldn't sleep."

"So I came here."

Benedict glanced at the stack of leather-bound books.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

She smiled sadly.

"No."

"I think I found more questions instead."

Benedict understood that feeling better than he wished.

He looked toward the shelves lining the walls.

"Sometimes..."

"...the past waits until we're ready."

Eleanor looked at him.

Those words settled somewhere deep inside her heart.

She wasn't sure why.

But they sounded strangely familiar.

Almost...

As if someone had once said something very similar.

Just then...

A gust of wind rattled the tall windows.

A journal had fallen off the table and landed on the floor.

Several loose pages scattered across the carpet.

Benedict immediately knelt to gather them.

As he reached for the final page...

His eyes paused.

It was an old sketch.

Not a photograph.

A hand-drawn picture.

A young woman sitting beneath a large oak tree.

Beside her...

A young boy couldn't help but laugh with joy as he tightly grasped a small, wooden toy horse in his hands.

The artist had never written their names.

Only a name sentence appeared beneath the drawing.

"Some days deserve to be remembered forever."

Benedict stared at the sketch.

Something tightened in his chest.

The oak tree...

It was really similar to the one in the old rose garden that had been forgotten.

Eleanor noticed his expression.

"What is it?"

Benedict handed her the drawing.

"Have you ever seen this before?"

She studied it carefully.

Then slowly shook her head.

"No."

"But..."

She gently traced the edge of the page.

"It feels familiar."

Before either of them could say another word...

A knock came at the library door.

It was Sophia.

"There you are."

She smiled warmly.

"I've been looking everywhere for both of you."

The moment quietly disappeared.

Neither Benedict nor Eleanor mentioned the drawing again.

Yet neither of them forgot it.

The following morning...

Ashcroft Group Headquarters buzzed with activity.

News of yesterday's successful response to the supplier crisis had spread throughout the company.

Employees greeted Damian with renewed confidence.

He noticed it immediately.

"They're looking at me differently."

Benedict nodded.

"Leadership isn't earned in a single speech."

"It's earned one decision at a time."

Damian smiled.

"I still have a lot to learn."

"We all do."

As they entered the executive floor...

Benedict noticed his assistant waiting outside his office.

Her usually calm expression was tense.

"Director Benedict..."

"A visitor is waiting for you."

"I don't have any appointments."

"I know."

I didn't let him into your office because of that.

Benedict frowned.

"Who is he?"

She handed him a business card.

There was no company logo.

No address.

Only a name embossed in silver letters.

Gabriel Frost

And beneath it...

Three words.

Private Investigator.

Benedict stared silently at the card.

He had never heard the name before.

But something told him...

This man hadn't come by accident.

Benedict looked once more at the business card.

Gabriel Frost.

Private Investigator.

He slipped the card into his pocket.

"Show him in."

A few moments later, the office door opened.

A man in his early forties stepped inside.

The man was dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that looked like it had just been pressed, not a single crease out of place. He moved with a calm and quiet confidence, his posture relaxed and effortless, yet his piercing blue eyes were constantly on the lookout for something, taking in every detail without giving anything away.

He extended his hand.

"Director Benedict."

"Thank you for seeing me."

Benedict shook it.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Frost?"

Gabriel sat only after Benedict invited him.

"I wasn't hired by you."

"I know."

"You were hired by Ashcroft Group."

Benedict folded his hands on the desk.

Victor hadn't mentioned anything about a private investigator.

Gabriel seemed to read the question on his face.

"Chairman Victor asked me to quietly investigate the recent corporate espionage."

"So this is about Blackridge Capital."

Gabriel nodded.

"Partly."

He opened a thin leather folder.

"I've spent the last ten days following financial trails."

"What I found concerns me."

He slid several photographs across the desk.

Warehouse deliveries.

Late-night meetings.

Encrypted document exchanges.

Nothing unusual by itself.

But together...

They formed a pattern.

Gabriel tapped one photograph.

"The leak isn't coming from your computer systems."

He tapped another.

This information is coming from a person who has a direct line to the top decision-makers.

Benedict's expression remained calm.

"But inside..."

His thoughts raced.

His suspicion had been correct.

There was a traitor.

Gabriel leaned back.

"I've investigated corporate fraud for nearly twenty years."

"The biggest mistake companies make is assuming spies hide in the shadows."

"They don't."

"They earn trust first."

Those words lingered in the office.

Benedict thought about every senior executive.

Every assistant.

Every department head.

Anyone could be hiding behind a friendly smile.

Meanwhile...

Victor watched the city from his office window.

Damian entered quietly.

"You wanted to see me?"

Victor nodded.

"I did."

He motioned toward the chair opposite him.

Damian sat.

Victor just stood there, not saying a word, for what felt like forever. Then, finally, he spoke up.

"Yesterday..."

"You handled yourself well."

Damian smiled.

"I had help."

"Yes."

Victor didn't deny it.

"But you listened."

He turned to face Damian.

"Never be ashamed of learning."

"The leaders who stop learning..."

"...are usually the first to fall."

Damian nodded thoughtfully.

"I won't forget."

Back in Benedict's office...

Gabriel gathered his papers.

"There is one more thing."

He placed a sealed envelope on the desk.

I stumbled upon something interesting in an old storage unit that had been rented out years ago by a company linked to Blackridge.

Benedict frowned.

"Why bring it to me?"

"Because your name is written on the back."

Silence.

Benedict slowly turned the envelope over.

In faded handwriting were three simple words.

For Little Ben.

His breathing stopped for a moment.

The handwriting...

Matched the old letter in his wooden box.

Gabriel noticed the change in his expression.

"I take it you've seen that handwriting before."

Benedict didn't answer immediately.

He put the envelope back on the desk, doing it carefully.

"Thank you."

Gabriel stood.

"My job is to uncover facts."

"What those facts mean..."

"...is something only you can decide."

With that, he quietly left.

That evening...

Benedict walked back to Ashcroft Manor, still holding the unopened envelope in his hand.

He locked the door to his room.

Then placed it beside the first letter.

Two envelopes.

The same handwriting.

The same mystery.

He stared at them for a long time.

Finally...

He reached for the newer envelope.

Just as his fingers touched the seal—

A loud knock echoed through the room.

"Benedict!"

It was Sophia.

Her voice trembled.

He immediately opened the door.

Sophia's face had turned pale.

"Benedict..."

"The elderly woman..."

"She's gone."

The words struck him like a bolt of lightning.

"What do you mean, gone?"

"We can't find her anywhere."

Benedict's expression changed instantly.

The envelope fell from his grasp and landed on the floor.

Without another word...

He ran.

Far below...

Beyond the walls of Ashcroft Manor...

A black sedan disappeared into the darkness.

Inside...

The elderly mastermind looked out of the window.

"The first witness..."

"...has finally been removed."

He closed his eyes.

"But not before she reminded the boy..."

"...that the past still exists."