THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Ten: The Broken Chain

The grand foyer of Ashcroft Manor remained eerily silent.

Thousands of crystal fragments glittered across the polished marble floor like shattered stars.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

The only sound was the faint creaking of the chandelier, its remaining support chain swaying gently above their heads.

Benedict stood beneath it, his eyes fixed on the severed steel cable in his hand.

His expression was calm.

Too calm.

Victor broke the silence.

"Are you certain?"

Benedict slowly turned toward him.

"I don't make accusations without evidence."

He held up the damaged cable.

"The edges are clean."

"They weren't worn down."

"They were cut with a precision tool."

The butler stepped forward, disbelief written across his face.

"That's impossible."

"No outsider could enter Ashcroft Manor unnoticed."

Benedict looked at him quietly.

"I agree."

The answer sent an uncomfortable chill through the room.

If no outsider had entered...

Then someone inside the estate had done it.

Victor immediately took control.

"Seal every entrance."

"No employee leaves the estate until further notice."

The Chief of Security nodded sharply.

"Yes, Chairman."

Within minutes, security officers spread across the manor.

Every entrance was locked.

Every security recording from the previous forty-eight hours was being retrieved.

The once peaceful estate had become a crime scene.

Eleanor remained seated on the drawing room sofa, still shaken.

Sophia knelt beside her.

"Mother..."

"I'm fine."

But her trembling hands told a different story.

Benedict quietly approached with another cup of warm tea.

"You should drink this."

She accepted it.

As their fingers brushed...

A strange feeling washed over Eleanor.

For just a heartbeat...

A memory flickered through her mind.

A little boy.

No older than five.

Running across a sunlit garden.

Laughing.

Calling out...

"Mother!"

The image disappeared as quickly as it came.

Eleanor blinked.

Her heart suddenly raced.

She looked up at Benedict.

Why...

Why did touching his hand feel so familiar?

Before she could speak, Benedict had already stepped back.

As always...

Thinking of her comfort before his own.

Meanwhile, Damian stood near the broken chandelier beside the Chief of Security.

"I still don't understand."

"If someone wanted to hurt us..."

"Why tonight?"

The security chief looked uneasy.

"I wish I knew."

Benedict overheard the question.

"They weren't trying to kill everyone."

Both men looked toward him.

"They were targeting someone specific."

Victor frowned.

"What makes you think that?"

Benedict pointed toward the marble floor.

"The chandelier didn't fall in the center."

"It fell directly above Mother's usual position."

Silence filled the room.

Every family gathering...

Every evening conversation...

Eleanor always stood beneath that chandelier.

It had become a habit over many years.

Someone had known that.

Sophia covered her mouth.

"You mean..."

"They were trying to kill Mother?"

Benedict didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he looked toward the ceiling.

"No."

His voice was almost a whisper.

"They wanted us to believe that."

Victor narrowed his eyes.

"What does that mean?"

Benedict turned back toward the shattered glass.

"If Eleanor had died..."

"The investigation would focus on the chandelier."

"The family would grieve."

"The company would become unstable."

He paused.

"And while everyone was looking upward..."

"...the real attack would happen somewhere else."

The room fell silent.

Damian slowly exhaled.

"You think this was a distraction."

Benedict nodded.

"A very expensive distraction."

Just then, one of the security officers hurried into the foyer.

"Director Benedict!"

We've reviewed the security cameras.

Victor looked up immediately.

"And?"

The officer hesitated.

There's a problem!

"What problem?"

The cameras covering the west corridor...

"...stopped recording for exactly seven minutes."

Benedict's expression didn't change.

"What time?"

The officer looked at his report.

"Eight forty-three until eight fifty."

Benedict looked toward the staircase.

That was exactly the window in which the chandelier cable could have been cut.

He held out his hand.

"Show me the footage."

The officer swallowed hard.

"There isn't any."

"It was erased."

A heavy silence settled over the foyer.

Someone hadn't simply planned an attack.

Someone understood the manor's security system.

Someone knew exactly where the cameras were.

And someone...

Was still inside Ashcroft Manor.

A heavy silence settled over the grand foyer.

No one spoke.

Every member of the Ashcroft family understood the same terrifying truth.

Someone inside Ashcroft Manor had helped make the attack possible.

Victor looked toward the Chief of Security.

"Lock down every security office."

"No one touches another recording until Director Benedict reviews it personally."

"Yes, Chairman."

The officers immediately dispersed.

Benedict walked slowly toward the base of the staircase.

He didn't look at the shattered chandelier anymore.

Instead...

He looked at the servants.

The gardeners.

The cleaners.

The drivers.

Men and women who had served the Ashcroft family faithfully for years.

Some for decades.

Fear filled their faces.

Not guilt.

Fear.

He quietly turned back to Victor.

"Please don't question everyone tonight."

Victor frowned.

"Why not?"

"They're frightened."

"If we interrogate innocent people while emotions are high..."

"...we'll only create panic."

Director Reeves, the family lawyer, nodded in agreement.

"He's right."

"Fear makes honest people look suspicious."

Victor slowly exhaled.

"Very well."

"What do you suggest?"

Benedict answered without hesitation.

"We continue as though nothing has changed."

Several people looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

Sophia asked.

"You want us to pretend this never happened?"

"No."

Benedict shook his head.

"I want the person responsible to believe they succeeded."

The room became silent again.

Damian slowly smiled.

"So they'll make another move."

Benedict looked at him approvingly.

"And when they do..."

"...they'll make a mistake."

Later that evening...

Most of the household had finally retired.

Only a handful of lights remained on throughout the manor.

Benedict stood alone in the security control room.

Rows of monitors displayed every corridor.

Every entrance.

Every garden path.

He replayed the missing seven-minute window over and over.

Nothing.

Only a blank screen.

He leaned closer.

Something caught his attention.

The blank recording wasn't completely blank.

For a fraction of a second...

A faint flicker appeared in the upper corner.

He froze the frame.

Then enlarged it.

The image became distorted.

Grainy.

Barely recognizable.

The Chief of Security stepped closer.

"What is it?"

Benedict didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he continued enlarging the image.

Finally...

A tiny reflection became visible.

Not a face.

Not a person.

Just the polished brass surface of an antique grandfather clock standing in the west corridor.

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

"Interesting..."

The security chief looked confused.

"I don't understand."

Benedict pointed at the reflection.

"The clock."

"What about it?"

"It reflects light from the opposite hallway."

The chief frowned.

"So?"

"So even if someone erased the camera footage..."

"...they forgot about the reflection."

The room fell completely silent.

Damian, who had quietly entered moments earlier, stared at the frozen image.

"You can identify someone from that?"

Benedict slowly shook his head.

"No."

"But I can identify something."

He zoomed in again.

A faint silver glimmer appeared within the reflection.

A walking cane.

Elegant.

Silver-handled.

Damian looked puzzled.

"A cane?"

Benedict nodded.

"Someone walked through the corridor carrying one."

The security chief immediately answered.

"Only one person working here uses a walking cane."

Benedict raised his hand.

"No."

"Never assume."

"The easiest evidence..."

"...is sometimes planted."

Across the city...

Inside the dimly lit penthouse...

The elderly mastermind sat before his chessboard.

The younger man entered quietly.

"They found the damaged camera."

The old man smiled.

"I expected they would."

"They also found the reflection."

For the first time...

The younger man looked worried.

"Should we remove our man from the manor?"

The old man calmly moved a white knight across the chessboard.

"No."

"But they'll suspect him."

"I know."

The old man smiled again.

"That's precisely why he was chosen."

The younger man slowly understood.

"A sacrifice?"

The old man's eyes remained fixed on the chessboard.

"Every grandmaster sacrifices a piece..."

"...to protect the king."

He gently placed another chess piece beside the board.

"But Benedict..."

"...hasn't realized yet..."

"...that he isn't playing against one opponent."

He looked toward the rain falling beyond the window.

"He's playing against a family that has spent thirty years preparing for this day."

The following morning...

Ashcroft Manor appeared peaceful once again.

Servants resumed their duties.

Gardeners trimmed hedges.

Breakfast was served precisely at seven-thirty.

To anyone watching from outside...

Nothing seemed unusual.

Exactly as Benedict had instructed.

But hidden inside the pocket of his jacket...

The old envelope remained unopened.

And somewhere else inside the manor...

Another letter had just been slipped beneath a bedroom door.

It bore no name.

Only six handwritten words.

"The past never stays buried forever."

The servant who found it looked around the empty corridor.

There was no one there.

Only silence.

And somewhere...

Someone quietly smiled.