THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Twenty Six: The Person Closest to Him

The message remained on Benedict's phone.

Tomorrow. 9:17 PM.

The clock tower.

He read it again.

T town again.

Something about the message felt deliberate.

Not just the location.

Not just the time.

The person who sent it was absolutely clear about the significance of the clock tower.

They knew about the hidden passages.

They knew about Edward's secrets.

It was clear to them that Martha had become someone special in his life.

Victor stepped closer.

"Give me the phone."

Benedict handed it over.

Victor studied the photograph of Martha.

"Can you trace the number?"

Gabriel shook his head.

"Already tried."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Victor's expression hardened.

They wanted to make it clear that it was them.

Benedict looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because fear is useful."

Gabriel answered quietly.

They want to scare you so much that you slip up.

Benedict looked toward the rain-covered windows.

"I won't."

Victor studied him.

For a moment, he saw something unfamiliar in Benedict's eyes.

Not fear.

Determination.

Victor used to have that same kind of determination; it was something he knew well.

Before everything went wrong.

Eleanor remained seated near the conservatory fireplace.

She hadn't spoken since they left the archive.

Benedict walked toward her.

"Mother?"

She looked up.

Her eyes were red from crying.

"I'm sorry."

Benedict frowned.

"For what?"

"For all those years."

"You didn't know."

"But I was your mother."

Her voice cracked.

"I should have protected you."

Benedict sat beside her.

"You were deceived too."

Eleanor looked at him.

"That doesn't make the years disappear."

"No."

Benedict lowered his eyes.

That means we can put an end to the losses, and that's a good thing.

Eleanor reached for his hand.

This time...

Benedict held hers.

For the first time in decades...

Eleanor felt the hand of the child she had believed was gone forever.

Only now...

He was a grown man.

And somehow, that hurt even more.

Victor stood several feet away.

He watched them silently.

Damian approached him.

"You should talk to him."

Victor looked at him.

"About what?"

"Everything."

Victor gave a tired smile.

"That's a very large conversation."

"You have thirty years to explain."

Victor looked toward Benedict.

"I know."

Damian hesitated.

"Do you regret it?"

Victor's eyes darkened.

"Every day."

"You didn't know."

"I should have questioned the letter."

Damian looked at him.

"You were young."

"I was in love."

Victor's voice became quiet.

"And when you lose the person you love because you believe in a piece of paper..."

He paused.

You're left with a lifetime of questions, thinking about what you could've done to change things.

Damian said nothing.

Then Victor looked at him.

"I failed Eleanor."

His eyes moved toward Benedict.

"And I failed him."

Damian shook his head.

"You still have a chance."

Victor looked at him.

"Do I?"

Damian smiled faintly.

"You're his father."

"That doesn't disappear because thirty years have passed."

Victor's eyes softened.

"Thank you."

Later that night...

The mansion returned to silence.

But nobody slept.

Security officers guarded every entrance.

The east wing was sealed.

The private archive had been locked.

Victor ordered a complete review of every security employee.

Yet Benedict remained awake.

He stood inside his room, staring at the old photograph.

Eleanor.

The hospital.

The baby was wrapped in blue.

He carefully turned the photograph over.

The sentence remained there.

He must never be found.

But beneath it...

He noticed something he hadn't seen earlier.

A faint marking.

Almost invisible.

Three letters.

E.A.

Benedict frowned.

Edward Ashcroft.

His grandfather.

Could Edward have written the message?

Or had someone used his initials?

A knock came at the door.

Benedict slipped the photograph into the drawer.

"Come in."

Damian entered.

"You weren't sleeping."

"Neither were you."

Damian smiled.

"Fair point."

He walked toward the window.

For several seconds, they stood in silence.

Then Damian spoke.

"Do you believe in Mother?"

Benedict turned.

"Yes."

"Even someone who simply remembers everything?"

"That's why I believe her."

Damian frowned.

"What do you mean?"

If she wanted to make something up, she would have come up with a whole story by now.

Benedict looked down.

"Her memories are broken."

"Just like mine."

Damian nodded slowly.

Then he asked,

"Do you ever wonder what it would have been like?"

"What?"

"Growing up together."

Benedict looked at him.

The question struck deeper than Damian intended.

"Every day."

Damian smiled sadly.

"Me too."

Neither brother spoke again.

But the distance between them had changed.

They weren't strangers anymore.

They were brothers who had lost thirty years.

And neither intended to lose another day.

The next morning...

Benedict arrived at Ashcroft Group before sunrise.

The building was unusually quiet.

He entered through the private entrance.

The receptionist immediately stood.

"Good morning, Director."

Benedict nodded.

"Good morning."

As he walked toward the elevator...

His phone vibrated.

A message.

You are looking in the wrong place.

Benedict stopped.

Another message appeared.

The person you are looking for is actually someone close to you, a family member.

His expression tightened.

Then the final message arrived.

Look at the person closest to you.

Benedict stared at the screen.

The same warning Martha had given him.

Don't trust the person closest to you.

Someone was deliberately pushing him toward suspicion.

But who?

The elevator doors opened.

Benedict stepped inside.

Then I noticed something on the floor.

A small silver object.

He picked it up.

A ring.

His eyes widened.

It was the same design Eleanor had described.

A silver ring with a dark stone.

Benedict stared at it.

Someone had left it there deliberately.

And whoever had left it...

I wanted him to find it.

The elevator stopped on the executive floor.

Benedict stepped out.

He walked directly toward Gabriel's office.

The door was open.

"Gabriel?"

No answer.

Benedict entered.

The room was empty.

A folder sat on the desk.

His name was written across it.

BENEDICT ASHCROFT

He opened it.

Inside were security reports.

Photographs.

Employee records.

And one page highlighted in red.

Benedict read the first line.

EMPLOYEE ACCESS LOG — CLOCK TOWER

His eyes moved down the list.

Three names appeared.

Gabriel Frost.

Victor Ashcroft.

And...

Benedict stopped breathing.

The third name was a surprise; it belonged to someone he hadn't even considered before.

A person who was really close to the family for a long time.

Someone who had access to the manor.

The company.

The security system.

And his childhood records.

Benedict slowly lowered the file.

Then the office door closed behind him.

He turned.

Nobody was there.

His phone vibrated.

One final message appeared.

Now you know where to look.

Benedict stared at the screen.

But before he could move...

The lights went out.

The lights went out.

Benedict didn't move.

He stood completely still inside Gabriel's office.

Darkness surrounded him.

Then—

A soft click came from behind the desk.

Benedict immediately stepped backward.

Someone was inside the room.

He reached for his phone.

Before he could turn on the flashlight...

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

Benedict reacted instinctively.

He twisted free and drove his elbow backward.

The figure stumbled.

Benedict switched on his phone.

The light revealed—

Gabriel.

"Easy!"

Benedict lowered his arm.

"Gabriel?"

Gabriel straightened his jacket.

"I was about to say the same thing."

"What happened to the lights?"

"Someone disabled this floor."

Gabriel glanced toward the open folder.

Then his expression changed.

"You found it."

Benedict looked at him.

"You knew about this?"

Gabriel hesitated.

"I suspected."

"That's not the same answer."

Gabriel closed the door.

"You're right."

He walked toward the desk.

"The access records have been altered several times."

"By whom?"

"We don't know."

Benedict held up the page.

"Then why are there only three names?"

Gabriel looked at it.

These three individuals were the only ones with authorized access to the clock tower's security system, which is why they are the focus.

Benedict stared at the names.

Victor.

Gabriel.

And the third name.

He still couldn't believe it.

"Why would this person have access?"

"Because they were trusted."

Benedict's expression hardened.

"Trusted by whom?"

"Everyone."

Gabriel took the folder from him.

"There's something you haven't seen."

He opened another section.

A photograph fell onto the desk.

Benedict picked it up.

It showed the clock tower thirty years earlier.

A younger Edward Ashcroft stood beside the entrance.

Next to him was a woman.

Her face had been deliberately scratched out.

Benedict frowned.

"Who is she?"

"We don't know."

"Then why keep the photograph?"

"Because Edward kept it."

Benedict looked closer.

Something was written on the back.

For the day the truth returns.

His pulse quickened.

"Edward knew."

Gabriel nodded.

"Perhaps."

"No."

Benedict shook his head.

"He knew something would happen."

A sound came from the hallway.

Both men turned.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Measured.

Approaching the office.

Gabriel immediately turned off Benedict's phone light.

The footsteps stopped outside.

Neither man breathed.

The door handle moved.

Once.

Twice.

Then stopped.

A few seconds passed.

The footsteps moved away.

Gabriel waited.

Then quietly opened the door.

The corridor was empty.

Benedict stepped outside.

At the end of the hallway...

A figure disappeared around the corner.

Benedict started after them.

Gabriel grabbed his arm.

"Don't."

"Why?"

"Because that's exactly what they want."

Benedict stopped.

Gabriel lowered his voice.

"They're trying to make you chase shadows."

Benedict looked toward the empty corridor.

"Then we'll stop chasing."

He turned back.

"We'll make them come to us."

That afternoon...

Victor called an emergency family meeting.

Eleanor.

Damian.

Sophia.

Benedict.

Everyone gathered in the private dining room.

Victor stood at the head of the table.

"There was another security breach."

Sophia looked alarmed.

"Again?"

Victor nodded.

"Someone accessed restricted files."

Damian looked at Benedict.

"Was anything stolen?"

"Not that we know of."

Eleanor watched Benedict carefully.

She could tell he was hiding something.

"What aren't you telling us?"

Benedict looked at Victor.

Victor gave a slight nod.

Benedict put a picture he took from the clock tower down on the table.

Everyone stared at it.

Sophia frowned.

"Who's the woman?"

"We don't know."

Eleanor picked up the photograph.

The moment she saw it...

Her face changed.

Victor noticed.

"Eleanor?"

She didn't answer.

Her fingers trembled.

Benedict stepped closer.

"Mother?"

Eleanor slowly turned the photograph over.

She read Edward's handwriting.

Her breathing stopped.

"What?"

Victor took the photograph.

"What does it say?"

Eleanor whispered,

"I've seen this handwriting before."

Victor's eyes widened.

"Where?"

She looked at him.

"In the letter."

The room became silent.

"The letter that separated us."

Victor stared at her.

"You're sure?"

"I could never forget that handwriting."

Benedict's heart pounded.

"Are you saying Edward wrote the letters?"

Eleanor shook her head.

"No."

"Then someone copied his handwriting."

Victor slowly sat down.

Someone had used Edward's identity to manipulate them.

And if that was true...

It turned out that the betrayal had started long before anyone realized what was happening.

Later that evening...

Benedict returned to the library.

He placed the photograph beside the old envelope.

The handwriting looked remarkably similar.

Almost identical.

He examined both carefully.

Then I noticed something.

There was a small symbol in the corner of the letter.

A circle crossed by a single line.

The photograph had the same symbol.

Benedict immediately called Gabriel.

"Come to the library."

Minutes later, Gabriel arrived.

Benedict pointed at the symbol.

"Have you seen this before?"

Gabriel stared at it.

His expression changed.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"On Edward's private files."

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

"What does it mean?"

Gabriel hesitated.

"I don't know."

"Gabriel."

He finally answered.

Edward used it to mark documents that he thought were dangerous.

Benedict stared at the envelope.

"Then this letter wasn't ordinary."

"No."

"It was part of something bigger."

Gabriel nodded.

"Much bigger."

Across the city...

The elderly mastermind sat in his study.

The younger man entered.

"They found the symbol."

The old man continued reading.

"I expected them to."

"They're getting closer."

"Good."

The younger man frowned.

"Good?"

The old man smiled.

"Secrets become useless when nobody searches for them."

He closed the file.

"What matters is what they believe after they find them."

The younger man remained silent.

The old man looked toward the window.

"Has the family started suspecting each other?"

"Yes."

"Excellent."

He picked up a chess piece.

"Once trust begins to fracture..."

He placed it on the board.

"...people destroy themselves without needing an enemy."

That night...

Benedict stood outside Eleanor's bedroom.

He knocked.

"Come in."

He entered.

Eleanor was sitting beside the window.

She looked exhausted.

Benedict sat beside her.

"Mother."

She turned.

"I need to ask you something."

"Anything."

"When you received that letter..."

"Did it contain anything besides the words?"

Eleanor thought carefully.

"There was a symbol."

Benedict's heart sank.

"The same symbol?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

He looked away.

Eleanor touched his hand.

"What are you thinking?"

"That whoever separated you and Father..."

"...was already connected to this family."

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.

"Then perhaps we've been looking outside for an enemy who has been standing inside our lives all along."

Benedict looked at her.

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

A long silence followed.

Then Eleanor suddenly whispered,

"There was one more thing."

"What?"

"The day I lost you..."

She closed her eyes.

"I remember someone calling your name."

Benedict leaned closer.

"Who?"

"I couldn't see him."

"But I remember what he said."

"What?"

Eleanor opened her eyes.

"He said..."

"Don't worry, Little Ben," she said softly. "You'll come home when the time is right."

Benedict froze.

The words struck him like lightning.

It was because the old woman standing at the gate had called him by that very same name.

Little Ben.

And suddenly...

He understood.

Martha hadn't mistaken him.

She had known him.

She had been there.

The issue now wasn't about whether Benedict was actually taken or not.

The question was—

Who had taken him?

His phone suddenly vibrated.

One new message.

No number.

Only three words:

ASK MARTHA EVERYTHING.

Benedict stared at the screen.

Then another message appeared.

IF SHE SURVIVES THE NIGHT.

His blood ran cold.

He immediately stood.

Eleanor looked at him.

"What happened?"

Benedict grabbed his jacket.

"We have to find Martha."

"Why?"

He looked at her.

"Because whoever took me thirty years ago..."

His voice hardened.

"...is afraid of what she remembers."

And somewhere across the city...

A clock quietly struck midnight.