THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Twenty Three:Beneath the Clock Tower-

The voice echoed through the darkness.

"You've finally come home, Little Ben."

Benedict didn't move.

Neither did Damian.

Time seemed to stand still as the old clock's gentle tick-tock echoed through the air, the only sound for what felt like an eternity, a slow and steady heartbeat that hung above them like a reminder of the passing seconds.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Damian whispered,

"Did you hear that?"

Benedict nodded.

His eyes remained fixed on the staircase.

"I heard."

"Do you know the voice?"

Benedict's jaw tightened.

"Yes."

"Who?"

Benedict didn't answer.

The truth was already taking shape in his mind.

He knew that voice.

He had heard it countless times.

At Ashcroft Manor.

In the company offices.

During family meetings.

It belonged to someone he had trusted for years.

Someone who had been there for him during tough times.

Someone who knew almost everything about his life.

Damian stepped closer.

"Benedict."

"We can't stay here."

Benedict finally moved.

He took one step toward the staircase.

Then another.

Damian followed.

They descended slowly into the darkness.

The stairs looked like they went on forever, way longer than they actually were.

Stone walls pressed tightly around them.

The air grew colder with every step.

Halfway down, Benedict noticed something carved into the wall.

A child's handprint.

Small.

Faded.

Beside it were two initials.

B.A.

Benedict touched the carving.

A sudden image flashed through his mind.

A little boy.

Running down a hallway.

A man's hand reaching toward him.

A woman's voice calling his name.

Then...

A door slamming shut.

Benedict staggered.

Damian caught his arm.

"Are you okay?"

Benedict closed his eyes.

"Yes."

"What did you see?"

"I don't know."

He looked at the handprint again.

"But I think I've been here before."

Down at the bottom of the stairs, there was a door made of steel.

Unlike everything else in the underground passage...

It was new.

A keypad had been installed beside it.

Damian stared at it.

"Someone modernized this place."

Benedict examined the keypad.

"Recently."

A small red light blinked.

Then suddenly...

The keypad activated.

A message appeared on the screen.

WELCOME BACK, BEN.

Damian's face tightened.

"This is impossible."

Benedict stared at the words.

Then the screen changed.

ENTER THE YEAR YOU WERE BORN.

Damian looked at Benedict.

"Do you know it?"

Benedict hesitated.

He knew the official date.

But something about it felt wrong.

His childhood records had been altered.

His age had been estimated.

Even his original birth certificate was missing.

"I don't know."

The screen flashed.

THEN ENTER THE YEAR THEY TOLD YOU.

Benedict carefully filled in the year listed on his official papers.

The keypad beeped.

ACCESS DENIED.

Damian looked at him.

"What does that mean?"

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

"It means..."

"...the person who built this knew the official record was false."

A second message appeared.

TRY AGAIN.

Benedict stared at the keypad.

He thought about the photograph.

The orphanage.

The bracelet.

The medical record.

The man who had carried him.

Then one number came to him.

Not from a document.

From a memory.

A birthday candle.

A woman's voice.

"You'll be three next spring, Ben."

He entered a different year.

The light changed from red to green.

The steel door unlocked.

Damian stared at him.

"How did you know?"

Benedict looked at his own hand.

"I didn't."

The door opened.

Beyond it was a hidden chamber.

Not a prison.

Not a warehouse.

An archive.

Shelves covered every wall.

Old documents.

Photographs.

Medical records.

Newspapers.

Boxes.

Hundreds of them.

In the middle of the room, there was this big desk made of wood.

And behind it...

Someone waited.

Benedict stopped.

The man slowly turned.

Damian's breath caught.

It was Gabriel Frost.

Benedict stared at him.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Gabriel sighed.

"I was hoping you'd find this place later."

Damian's hand moved instinctively toward his phone.

Benedict raised his hand.

"Don't."

Gabriel looked at him.

"You're not going to call security?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because if you wanted us dead..."

Benedict glanced around the room.

"...we wouldn't still be standing."

Gabriel gave a tired smile.

"You're learning."

Damian stepped forward.

"You've been working with them."

Gabriel's expression hardened.

"Not willingly."

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

"Then explain."

Gabriel reached beneath the desk.

Slowly...

He placed a photograph on the table.

Benedict picked it up.

His hands froze.

It showed a young Eleanor.

Standing beside a man Benedict didn't recognize.

In Eleanor's arms...

Was a small child.

A boy.

Wrapped in a blue blanket.

Benedict stared at the photograph.

His heartbeat thundered.

The child wore the same silver bracelet.

Ben.

Gabriel spoke quietly.

This picture was taken just three days before you vanished.

Benedict looked up.

"Who is the man?"

Gabriel's face became grim.

"That's the question I've spent years trying to answer."

Then he pointed toward the photograph.

"Because he isn't who you think."

Before Benedict could ask another question...

The lights suddenly went out.

Complete darkness swallowed the chamber.

Then a voice came through the hidden speakers.

Calm.

Cold.

Familiar.

"Gabriel..."

A pause.

"You were told never to bring him here."

Benedict's blood ran cold.

Gabriel looked toward the ceiling.

"They found us."

A red light appeared above the door.

Then another.

Then another.

The entire chamber began locking down.

CLICK.

CLICK.

CLICK.

Damian looked at Benedict.

"We're trapped."

Benedict stared at Gabriel.

"No."

His expression hardened.

"We've just found the place they've been trying to hide."

And somewhere beyond the sealed door...

Footsteps began approaching.

Slowly.

One step at a time.

The footsteps grew louder.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Damian turned toward the sealed door.

"Someone's coming."

Gabriel remained strangely calm.

"Not someone."

Benedict looked at him.

"Then who?"

Gabriel's eyes hardened.

"For thirty years, one man has been fixing the mistakes we've made."

Another heavy lock clicked into place.

The chamber was completely sealed.

Damian tried the door.

Nothing.

"We need another exit."

Gabriel pointed toward the shelves.

"Behind the medical records."

Benedict immediately moved.

They began pulling boxes from the shelves.

Dust filled the air.

Nothing.

Then Damian noticed something.

"This one."

A small space had opened up at the back of a line of old files.

He pulled.

A section of the wall shifted.

A hidden passage opened.

Gabriel gestured toward it.

"Go."

Benedict didn't move.

";hat about you?"

"I'll follow."

Another sound came from the corridor outside.

Metal scraping against metal.

They were running out of time.

Benedict grabbed Damian's arm.

"Move."

The three men disappeared into the passage.

The hidden corridor was narrow.

Barely wide enough for one person.

They moved quickly through the darkness.

Behind them...

A loud metallic crash echoed through the archive.

The main door had been breached.

Someone had entered.

Benedict looked back.

"How long?"

Gabriel answered without turning.

"Not long enough."

They continued.

The passage eventually led to a tiny room that was hidden underground.

An emergency lamp flickered on.

Damian leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

"We need answers."

Gabriel nodded.

"You deserve them."

Benedict looked directly at him.

"Then start with the photograph."

Gabriel reached inside his jacket.

He removed a second photograph.

This one was older.

Much older.

Eleanor was standing by herself in front of a really old train station.

She was younger.

Barely in her twenties.

Her face was filled with sadness.

Beside her stood a young man.

Someone had gone to the trouble of scratching his face out of the picture.

Benedict stared.

"Who is he?"

Gabriel shook his head.

"I don't know."

"Then why do you have this?"

"Because someone wanted me to find it."

Benedict frowned.

"Who?"

"Edward Ashcroft."

Silence.

Damian looked between them.

"Edward knew?"

Gabriel nodded.

"He knew something was wrong."

"He began investigating shortly before his death."

Benedict's eyes remained fixed on the photograph.

"Did he know about me?"

Gabriel hesitated.

"Yes."

The word struck Benedict harder than expected.

"How much?"

"I don't know."

"Then find out."

Gabriel looked at him.

"I've been trying."

Benedict stepped closer.

"You're telling me Edward Ashcroft knew I existed..."

"...yet no one told me?"

Gabriel's expression tightened.

"Because Edward wasn't the only person searching."

"Someone was trying to find you first."

Damian stepped forward.

"Who?"

Gabriel looked toward Benedict.

The ones who wrote those fake letters to Victor and Eleanor.

Benedict froze.

The room became silent.

The old letters.

The lies.

The separation.

The decades of misunderstanding.

Everything suddenly connected.

"Those letters..."

Gabriel nodded.

"They were never random."

"They were designed to keep your parents apart."

Benedict's voice lowered.

"Why?"

Gabriel answered carefully.

"Because whoever separated them knew that if Victor and Eleanor stayed together..."

"...you would eventually be found."

Benedict stared at the floor.

His entire life had been built on a lie.

Not one lie.

Thousands.

Suddenly...

A loud bang echoed from somewhere above.

Gabriel's expression changed.

"They found the archive."

Damian looked around.

"How?"

Gabriel gave a bitter smile.

"Someone gave them our location."

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

"The insider."

Gabriel nodded.

"Yes."

"Someone inside Ashcroft Manor knew we were coming here."

Benedict's mind raced.

Not many people were aware of the clock tower, it was a bit of a secret, known to just a few.

He had told Damian.

Gabriel knew.

And...

Someone else had access to the information.

He suddenly remembered the message.

The old clock tower.

The traitor had been instructed to come here.

Not Benedict.

The insider.

A faint sound came from the passage.

Gabriel raised one finger.

Silence.

Someone was moving through the tunnel.

Slowly.

Benedict reached for the nearest metal object.

Damian stood beside him.

The footsteps stopped.

Then...

A figure appeared.

Benedict's heart dropped.

It was Eleanor.

She was standing right at the doorway of this secret room.

Her face was pale.

Her eyes were filled with tears.

"Benedict..."

He stared at her.

"Mother?"

Eleanor covered her mouth.

For a moment...

She couldn't speak.

Then she walked toward him.

"I've been looking for you."

Benedict's entire body went still.

"You knew?"

Eleanor shook her head desperately.

"No."

"I didn't know where you were."

"I didn't even know you were alive."

Her voice broke.

"But I knew..."

"...I had lost something."

Benedict stared at her.

"Why?"

Eleanor closed her eyes.

Because memories she'd buried for decades were beginning to return.

The letters.

The station.

A child.

A blue blanket.

And a promise.

She whispered,

"I remember a baby."

Benedict's heart stopped.

Eleanor looked at him.

"I remember holding him."

"I remember someone telling me he was safe."

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"But I was told he died."

Benedict couldn't speak.

Eleanor reached toward his face.

Her hand trembled.

"Forgive me."

He stepped back.

Not because he hated her.

Because he didn't know how to process the truth.

"You didn't know."

Eleanor nodded.

"I didn't."

"And Victor?"

She hesitated.

"He believed the letters."

"So did I."

Benedict looked away.

All those years...

All that pain...

Had been manufactured by someone else.

Then a gunshot exploded somewhere above them.

Eleanor screamed.

Gabriel immediately moved in front of her.

"Everyone stay down!"

Another shot echoed.

Then another.

Dust fell from the ceiling.

Benedict grabbed Eleanor's hand.

"There's another way out."

Gabriel looked at him.

"How do you know?"

Benedict pointed toward the wall.

A faint line ran beneath the stone.

A hidden door.

He pressed his palm against it.

Nothing.

Then he remembered Edward's message.

Remember the clock tower.

He looked at the old pocket watch.

The hands still pointed to 9:17.

He pressed the watch against the stone.

A hidden mechanism clicked.

The wall opened.

Cold night air rushed into the chamber.

Gabriel stared.

"Edward built this."

Benedict looked at Eleanor.

"Then let's go."

They hurried through the passage.

Behind them...

The hidden chamber filled with smoke.

The evidence they'd spent decades searching for was disappearing again.

But this time...

Benedict had something the mastermind couldn't erase.

His mother was alive.

And she remembered him.

Outside the clock tower ruins...

Benedict turned toward Eleanor.

She looked at him through tear-filled eyes.

"I thought you were dead."

He swallowed hard.

"I thought I had no family."

Eleanor reached for his hand.

This time...

He didn't pull away.

She held it tightly.

"I don't remember everything."

"But I remember enough."

Benedict looked toward the ruined tower.

"Then we'll remember the rest."

Behind them...

Gabriel suddenly looked toward the woods.

Someone was watching.

A figure stood between the trees.

For only a second...

Then it disappeared.

Gabriel's expression hardened.

"The traitor knows."

Benedict looked at him.

"Let them know."

His eyes turned cold.

"Because now..."

"...we know what they're afraid of."

He looked down at the silver pocket watch.

The frozen hands still pointed to 9:17.

And for the first time...

Benedict understood.

The clock had never stopped.

Someone had stopped it.