THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Twenty Two: The Eyes Inside the House

Rain tapped softly against the windows of Ashcroft Manor.

Inside the security room, nobody spoke.

The footage continued playing.

The black sedan.

The hooded figure.

The employee waiting near the staff entrance.

The envelope passed from one hand to another.

Then darkness.

Benedict leaned closer to the monitor.

"Run it again."

The technician replayed the footage.

The figure appeared.

I walked across the courtyard.

Stopped.

Handed over the envelope.

Left.

Benedict watched every movement.

The employee never looked directly at the camera.

That wasn't accidental.

Benedict said, "He was aware of the blind spot."

Gabriel nodded.

"Exactly."

Damian stood behind them.

"So whoever this is..."

"...knows the security system."

Benedict's expression hardened.

"And knows the manor."

Silence followed.

There were only a handful of people who could move around Ashcroft Manor without attracting suspicion.

Servants.

Security personnel.

Drivers.

Senior staff.

Family.

Anyone could be involved.

That was exactly what made things so risky.

Gabriel paused the footage.

"There's something else."

He enlarged the image of the employee.

The person's face remained hidden.

But the left hand was visible.

A small silver ring caught the light.

Benedict narrowed his eyes.

"Can you identify it?"

"Not yet."

Gabriel zoomed in further.

The image became grainy.

But the ring remained visible.

A narrow band.

With a tiny dark stone.

Damian frowned.

"Could be anything."

"Yes," Benedict replied.

"Which is why we don't make assumptions."

He turned toward the security chief.

"Nobody confronts anyone."

"Understood."

"Increase surveillance."

"Quietly."

"Yes, sir."

Benedict looked at Gabriel.

"Try to figure out who went into the staff hallway between 8 and 9 tonight; that's the time we need to focus on."

Gabriel nodded.

"I'll have it within the hour."

Across the mansion...

Someone closed a bedroom door.

The person stood alone in the darkness.

A phone illuminated a nervous face.

A message appeared.

Did he suspect you?

The person stared at the screen.

Then typed:

No.

A reply came almost immediately.

Good. Continue exactly as instructed.

The person swallowed hard.

Another message appeared.

Don't forget, Benedict must never discover the location of the clock tower.

The phone went dark.

The person looked toward the window.

Rain streaked the glass.

For several seconds, they remained perfectly still.

Then quietly whispered,

"What have I done?"

At midnight...

Benedict sat alone in his office.

The note that Edward Ashcroft had written in secret was now right in front of him.

Remember the clock tower.

He had searched the Ashcroft property records.

There was no clock tower listed.

Not on the current estate plans.

Not on the architectural drawings.

Not even on the historical renovation documents.

That bothered him.

If Edward had deliberately mentioned a clock tower...

It existed somewhere.

He opened an old digital archive.

One file appeared.

ASHCROFT ESTATE — ORIGINAL PROPERTY MAP

Benedict clicked it.

The image slowly loaded.

The estate looked completely different thirty-five years ago.

Several buildings had disappeared.

A greenhouse.

An old carriage house.

A chapel.

And at the far northern edge of the property...

A small structure marked simply:

CLOCK TOWER

Benedict sat back.

There it was.

Hidden in plain sight.

His eyes moved to the date.

The structure had been demolished twenty-eight years ago.

Two years after Benedict had supposedly disappeared from the Ashcroft family's life.

His pulse quickened.

Why would Edward leave a clue pointing toward a building that no longer existed?

Unless...

It hadn't actually been destroyed.

A soft sound came from the hallway.

Benedict immediately closed the file.

Someone was walking outside.

Slow footsteps.

Then they stopped.

Benedict waited.

Something dark moved under the space at the bottom of his door.

He stood.

The footsteps continued.

He opened the door.

The corridor was empty.

Only the dim wall lights remained.

Benedict stepped outside.

At the far end of the hallway...

A door was slowly closing.

The old records room.

He walked toward it.

The door was locked.

He frowned.

The records room had been unused for years.

Why had someone been inside?

He tried the handle again.

Locked.

Then he noticed something on the floor.

A small piece of wet mud.

Fresh.

Someone had entered from outside.

Benedict crouched.

You could see a faint shape of a shoe in the mud.

He recognized the pattern.

The footprint matched the ones he had seen near the old lady's house.

His eyes hardened.

The same person had been inside Ashcroft Manor.

A voice suddenly came from behind him.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Benedict turned.

It was Victor.

The Chairman was standing a short distance away, dressed in a dark robe.

Benedict straightened.

"I heard someone."

Victor glanced toward the records room.

"At this hour?"

"Yes."

Victor walked closer.

"Did you find anything?"

Benedict hesitated.

Then answered carefully.

"Not yet."

Victor studied his face.

"You don't trust me."

The question caught Benedict off guard.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

Victor's voice was quiet.

For several seconds, father and son stood beneath the dim hallway light.

Then Victor said something Benedict hadn't expected.

"You've always been loyal to this family."

"I know."

"And I've benefited from that loyalty."

Benedict remained silent.

Victor looked toward the locked door.

"But perhaps..."

"...I asked too much of you."

Benedict's expression softened.

"Chairman..."

Victor shook his head.

"Tonight, call me Victor."

Benedict stared at him.

It was the first time Victor had asked.

The two men didn't see the small security camera that was placed at the far end of the hallway.

Its red light was blinking.

Recording everything.

And somewhere else in the mansion...

Someone was watching.

Victor remained beside Benedict in the dark hallway.

For several seconds, neither man spoke.

Then Benedict looked toward the records room.

"I think someone has been using this room."

Victor frowned.

"For what?"

"I don't know yet."

Benedict pointed toward the floor.

"But whoever entered left this."

Victor looked down.

He noticed a small patch of wet mud right away.

He crouched.

"That wasn't here earlier."

"No."

Victor slowly stood.

"Then we search for it."

Benedict shook his head.

"Not yet."

Victor looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because if someone is watching..."

Benedict glanced toward the security camera.

"I'd rather they didn't find out about the room we've discovered."

Victor followed his gaze.

Understanding appeared in his eyes.

"You think the cameras are compromised?"

"I think we should assume everything is."

Victor nodded slowly.

"Then what do we do?"

Benedict's voice lowered.

"We pretend nothing happened."

They walked away from the records room together.

Neither looked back.

Underneath his calm exterior, Benedict's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all rushing to be heard at once, a stark contrast to the peaceful look that masked his true emotions.

Someone had entered the records room.

Someone connected to the conspiracy.

And they had been looking for something.

The question was...

What?

Twenty minutes later...

Benedict entered his office through the private corridor.

He locked the door.

Then immediately opened his laptop.

He got into the security system using a special account that was protected by a secret code.

One by one, he reviewed the cameras.

Kitchen.

Clear.

Main entrance.

Clear.

Garden.

Clear.

Second floor.

Clear.

Records corridor...

Benedict stopped.

The video from twenty-three minutes ago was gone.

Not corrupted.

Deleted.

His eyes narrowed.

Someone had administrator-level access.

This meant the person who betrayed them wasn't just some regular worker; they were something more.

They had access to Ashcroft Manor's internal systems.

He opened the access logs.

On that particular night, the security server was accessed by three accounts that had the proper authorization.

The head of security.

Gabriel Frost.

And...

A third account.

Benedict stared at the screen.

The account belonged to someone who had worked for the Ashcroft family for more than twenty years.

His expression changed.

He knew the person.

Trusted the person.

And suddenly...

He had always wondered if trust was really something that should have been given in the first place.

Across the manor...

A single employee was sitting by themselves in a tiny room.

A laptop glowed before them.

A message appeared.

The footage is gone.

The person typed:

He almost found the records room.

The response came immediately.

It almost doesn't matter.

Then another message.

Tomorrow night. The old clock tower.

The employee's fingers froze above the keyboard.

But the tower was demolished.

A final response appeared.

Not all of it.

The screen went dark.

At dawn...

Benedict stood in the library.

Old architectural documents covered the large table.

Damian entered carrying coffee.

"You've been awake all night."

Benedict didn't look up.

"So have you."

"I was worried."

Benedict smiled faintly.

"You shouldn't be."

Damian placed the coffee beside him.

"What are you looking for?"

"The old clock tower."

Damian's expression changed.

"Why?"

Benedict looked at him.

"Because Edward left me a message."

He hesitated.

Then showed him the note.

Damian read it carefully.

Remember the clock tower.

"Do you know where it was?"

"North side of the original estate."

"Was?"

"It was supposedly demolished twenty-eight years ago."

Damian frowned.

"Supposedly?"

Benedict pointed toward an architectural map.

"Look at this."

The original estate map showed the clock tower.

But the demolition plans were strange.

There were no photographs.

No contractor records.

No final inspection.

Only one handwritten notation:

Structure removed.

Damian looked up.

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"Then perhaps it wasn't demolished."

Benedict nodded.

"That's what I think."

They spent the next two hours searching old records.

Finally...

Damian found something.

A property transfer document from twenty-seven years ago.

It revealed that a small piece of land on the north side of the Ashcroft estate was being handed over to a private company.

Benedict read the company's name.

His expression hardened.

Vale Meridian Holdings.

Damian frowned.

"Does that name mean anything?"

"Not yet."

Benedict memorized it.

Then he noticed something else.

The transfer had been authorized by Edward Ashcroft.

But the witness signature belonged to someone else.

A name Benedict recognized immediately.

Victor Ashcroft.

Damian looked at him.

"Your father was involved."

Benedict slowly shook his head.

"Not necessarily."

"Someone used his authority."

"Or he knew."

Neither possibility was comfortable.

That evening...

Benedict went back to the northern part of the estate.

The area had been abandoned for decades.

Tall trees blocked most of the sunlight.

Wild grass covered the old pathway.

He walked deeper into the woods.

Damian followed several steps behind.

"Are you sure this is wise?"

"No."

Benedict smiled.

"But we're already here."

They continued.

After nearly twenty minutes...

Benedict stopped.

Ahead...

Behind a wall of thick vines...

stood a section of old stone.

Damian pulled the vines aside.

A narrow doorway appeared.

Above it...

Almost completely hidden by moss...

was a carved symbol.

A clock.

Benedict's heartbeat quickened.

"This is it."

The door was locked.

He reached into his pocket.

Then stopped.

The brass key.

The same key the mastermind had demanded.

He slowly inserted it into the lock.

Click.

The door opened.

Darkness waited beyond it.

Damian looked at him.

"Ready?"

Benedict stared into the abandoned structure.

"No."

Then he stepped inside.

"Let's find out why Edward wanted me here."

They entered a narrow stone chamber.

Dust covered the floor.

Old wooden beams crossed the ceiling.

But the room wasn't completely abandoned.

A fresh candle sat on a table.

Still warm.

Benedict stopped.

Someone had been here.

Recently.

Damian whispered,

"Someone knew we'd come."

Benedict didn't answer.

His eyes moved across the room.

Then...

He saw the wall.

There were hundreds of names carved into the stone, a lasting reminder of the people who had been there before.

Some were crossed out.

Others were circled.

At the very bottom...

One name has been written recently.

BENEDICT.

Damian stepped closer.

"Who did this?"

Benedict stared at the name.

Before he could answer...

A sound echoed from somewhere above them.

A slow mechanical movement.

Tick.

Benedict looked upward.

Tick.

The ancient clock mechanism had started moving.

Then the entire chamber trembled.

A hidden section of the wall slowly opened.

Behind it...

It was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.

Benedict looked at Damian.

Neither spoke.

Then a voice came from the darkness below.

Calm.

Familiar.

And impossible to mistake.

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

Benedict froze.

Because he knew that voice.

He had heard it before.

Not in a memory.

Not in a dream.

But recently.

Very recently.

And suddenly...

As he glanced over, he noticed the person standing under the clock tower, and suddenly it hit him - this wasn't someone he had never seen before.

It was someone he had already trusted.