THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Thirteen: A Name That Shouldn't Exist

The room was silent.

Only the ticking of the antique clock broke the stillness.

Benedict remained seated at the edge of his bed, the old envelope resting in his hands.

His eyes stayed fixed on a single name.

Eleanor.

He read it again.

Then a third time.

The ink had faded with age, but the handwriting remained clear.

His heartbeat quickened.

Why would Eleanor's name appear in a letter hidden among his belongings?

He carefully turned the page.

The paper crackled softly.

His eyes moved to the next line.

Suddenly...

He stopped.

The bottom half of the page had been torn away.

His brow furrowed.

He searched the envelope.

Nothing.

No missing piece.

No second page.

Only a clean tear, as if someone had deliberately removed the rest years ago.

Benedict leaned back slowly.

"So..."

he whispered,

"Someone wanted this letter to survive..."

"...but not the whole truth."

The following morning...

Ashcroft Manor stirred to life.

Servants prepared breakfast.

Gardeners watered the rose beds.

Drivers lined up the family's vehicles outside the entrance.

Everything appeared perfectly ordinary.

Yet Benedict noticed something unusual.

The elderly woman from the previous evening was still there.

She sat quietly on a wooden bench just outside the gates, a small cloth bag resting beside her.

The butler approached Benedict.

"Director Benedict."

"I offered to arrange a hotel for her."

"She refused."

"What did she say?"

The butler hesitated.

"She said..."

"I'll leave after I know he's happy."

Benedict's expression softened.

Without another word, he walked toward the gate.

The old woman looked up and smiled.

"I hope I haven't caused any trouble."

"You haven't."

He handed her a paper cup of warm tea.

"You should eat something."

She accepted it gratefully.

"You remind me of someone."

Benedict smiled faintly.

"So you've said."

"No."

She shook her head.

"I don't mean the little boy anymore."

"I mean his mother."

Benedict's fingers tightened slightly around his own cup.

"What was she like?"

The old woman stared into the distance.

"Brave."

"Gentle."

"The kind of woman who smiled even when her heart was breaking."

A strange ache settled inside Benedict.

He didn't know why.

Before he could ask another question...

A black sedan entered through the gates.

Victor stepped out.

He paused when he noticed Benedict speaking with the elderly woman.

For a brief moment...

His eyes rested on her face.

Something flickered across his expression.

Recognition.

It disappeared almost instantly.

He continued walking toward the house.

But Benedict had noticed.

Inside the mansion...

Victor closed the study door behind him.

He remained standing for several seconds.

Then slowly opened the bottom drawer of his desk.

Inside rested an old photograph.

He looked at it in silence.

A much younger Edward Ashcroft.

A younger Victor.

Several employees from the company's earliest days.

And standing near the back...

A woman wearing a caretaker's uniform.

Victor frowned.

He looked at the photograph...

To the window overlooking the front gate.

His voice was barely audible.

"It can't be..."

At Ashcroft Group Headquarters...

Damian had begun attending executive meetings alone, just as the Board requested.

The directors greeted him politely.

But as the discussions became more technical...

The atmosphere changed.

Questions came faster.

Financial projections.

International acquisitions.

Legal risks.

Operational restructuring.

Damian answered the first few confidently.

Then...

The room fell quiet.

One senior director adjusted his glasses.

"Young Master Damian..."

"What would be your recommendation regarding the Meridian Logistics acquisition?"

Damian hesitated.

He knew the name.

But not the details.

Before the silence became awkward...

The conference room doors opened.

Benedict stepped inside carrying a single file.

"I apologize for interrupting."

"The Chairman asked me to deliver these documents."

He placed the file in front of Damian.

Inside...

Every question the Board had raised had already been analyzed.

Possible risks.

Alternative strategies.

Projected outcomes.

Even recommended responses.

Damian looked up in astonishment.

Benedict smiled.

"I thought they might be useful."

The directors exchanged quiet glances.

Once again...

The meeting continued smoothly.

And once again...

Almost no one noticed who had truly kept it from falling apart.

The board meeting ended nearly two hours later.

One by one, the directors gathered their documents and left the conference room.

Several paused beside Damian.

"Excellent presentation, Young Master."

"You handled the discussion well."

"We look forward to working with you."

Damian thanked each of them politely.

Only after the last director had disappeared did he release a slow breath.

He looked down at the file Benedict had given him.

Every question.

Every possible objection.

Every supporting document.

Prepared before the meeting had even begun.

He shook his head in disbelief.

"If you hadn't walked in..."

"I would've embarrassed myself."

Benedict smiled.

"No."

"You would've asked for time to study the proposal."

"That's not an embarrassment."

"That's my responsibility."

Damian laughed softly.

"You always know the right thing to say."

Benedict closed the file.

"I've simply made enough mistakes to learn from them."

Later that afternoon...

Victor summoned Benedict to his office.

When Benedict entered, Victor was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city.

Without turning around, he asked,

"The old woman outside the manor..."

"Did she tell you who she is?"

"No, Chairman."

"Did she ask for anything?"

"Only work."

Victor remained silent for several moments.

Then he finally turned.

"If she's willing..."

"Offer her a position in the manor."

Benedict looked surprised.

"As a housekeeper?"

Victor nodded.

"We've been short-handed since Mrs. Lang retired."

Benedict inclined his head.

"I'll make the arrangements."

As he reached the door, Victor spoke again.

"And Benedict..."

"Yes, Chairman?"

"If she says anything unusual..."

"Tell me immediately."

Benedict studied Victor for a brief moment.

There was concern in the older man's eyes.

Not fear.

Concern.

"I understand."

Outside Ashcroft Manor...

The elderly woman listened quietly as Benedict explained the offer.

For a long time, she said nothing.

Finally, she smiled.

"I'll accept."

"But only if I'm allowed to earn my place."

Benedict nodded.

"Everyone here earns their place."

She looked at him with gentle pride.

"That's exactly what she would have wanted you to believe."

Again...

That strange ache returned.

This time, stronger than before.

Benedict searched her face.

"Who are you talking about?"

The old woman lowered her eyes.

"Someone..."

"...who loved a little boy more than her own life."

Before Benedict could ask another question, the butler approached.

"Director Benedict, the Chairman is waiting."

The moment slipped away.

Once again.

That evening...

Rain began falling over the city.

Across town, inside the dimly lit penthouse, the elderly mastermind stood before his chessboard.

The younger man entered carrying a folder.

"Our contact inside Ashcroft Manor has reported in."

The old man didn't look up.

"And?"

"The elderly woman has been hired."

For the first time that day...

The old man's hand stopped over the chessboard.

"So."

"They've brought her inside."

The younger man waited.

"Should we remove her?"

The old man slowly shook his head.

"No."

"Removing people creates questions."

"I prefer answers to disappear instead."

He picked up a black bishop and placed it beside a white king.

"The woman remembers fragments."

"Benedict remembers nothing."

"Eleanor remembers feelings."

He smiled faintly.

"Broken memories are easier to manipulate than complete ones."

The younger man hesitated.

"And if those memories return?"

The old man's expression hardened.

"They won't."

Then, after a long pause, he added quietly,

"Because before they do..."

"...the Ashcroft family will lose something they cannot replace."

That night...

Benedict walked through the east corridor during his final inspection of the manor.

The lights were dim.

Most of the household had already retired.

As he passed the old family library, he noticed the door standing slightly open.

He was certain it had been locked earlier.

His instincts immediately sharpened.

He pushed the door open.

The room was empty.

At first glance.

Then he noticed something.

One of the shelves had been disturbed.

Several books lay scattered across the floor.

He knelt and began putting them back in place.

As he lifted the final book...

A small brass key slid from between its pages and landed on the wooden floor.

Benedict stared at it.

It wasn't part of the library catalogue.

Someone had hidden it there.

Attached to the key was a tiny, faded paper tag.

Only three words had been written in elegant handwriting.

"Rose Garden Gate."

Benedict slowly closed his hand around the key.

Outside...

Lightning flashed across the night sky.

Somewhere in the darkness...

Someone else had already realized the key was missing.