The Last Cole: Heir To Justice

Chapter 4: The First Traitor

Ethan slowly turned the photograph over. His heartbeat echoed in the silent study.

The faded image revealed a man in his late forties standing beside Margaret Cole.

He wore a neatly tailored charcoal suit, his silver hair combed with military precision. A warm smile rested on his face, the kind that inspired immediate trust.

Ethan frowned. "I know him." Richard didn't answer.

"He attended my mother's funeral." Still, Richard remained silent.

"He cried." Ethan looked up. "I remember him." Richard finally spoke.

"His name was Samuel Ashford." The name stirred a distant memory.

Samuel Ashford. Chief Legal Counsel of Cole Group.

For nearly thirty years, he had been Margaret Cole's closest legal adviser and one of the few executives permitted to challenge her decisions.

Ethan remembered his mother speaking highly of him.

"Samuel never tells me what I want to hear," she had once laughed.

"He tells me what I need to hear." Ethan looked back at the photograph.

"Why would my mother call him the First Traitor?" Richard walked toward the wall and gently removed another document pinned beside the picture.

It was a copy of a property transfer agreement. Signed.

Stamped. Legally executed. "This document," Richard said quietly, "changed the future of the Cole family."

Ethan accepted the file. His eyes scanned the first page.

Then the second. By the third page... His breathing slowed.

"This..." "...is impossible." Richard folded his arms. "It shouldn't exist."

Five years before Margaret's death... Samuel Ashford had quietly transferred ownership of three small research companies into the names of anonymous holding corporations.

At first glance, the companies appeared insignificant. Their annual profits were almost nonexistent.

No board member questioned the decision. No shareholder complained.

"They were worthless," Ethan said. "That's what everyone believed."

Richard nodded. "Margaret signed those documents because Samuel told her the businesses had become financial liabilities."

"And they hadn't?" Richard stepped closer.

"They contained the patents that later made Cole Group billions."

Ethan stared at him. "So someone stole them..."

"...before they became valuable." Richard's expression hardened.

"Exactly." A wave of realization crashed over Ethan.

"This wasn't about my inheritance." "No." "It started years before me."

"Years." Richard looked toward Margaret's portrait. "Your mother wasn't betrayed once."

"She was betrayed slowly."

"Piece by piece." "By people she trusted." The words settled heavily inside the room.

Ethan lowered himself into the leather chair behind Margaret's desk.

He looked around the study. Every book. Every photograph.

Every carefully organized document. She had carried this burden alone.

Without telling him. Without telling the board. Without accusing anyone.

"Why?" Ethan whispered. Richard understood the question.

"Why didn't she expose Samuel?" Ethan nodded.

Richard walked toward the window overlooking the lake.

"Because she couldn't prove intent."

"He manipulated the law so perfectly that every decision appeared legal."

"So even if she suspected him..." "...she had no evidence."

Richard turned. "And Margaret refused to destroy an innocent man's reputation based on suspicion."

Ethan smiled sadly. "She was too honorable." "No." Richard shook his head.

"She was exactly honorable enough." Silence followed.

Richard approached another section of the wall.

Unlike Samuel's photograph, the remaining pictures had been covered with black cloth.

There were seven of them. Seven hidden faces. Ethan noticed.

"There are more." Richard nodded. Samuel was only the beginning.

"The First Traitor." He looked Ethan directly in the eye.

"The others came later." Ethan rose slowly.

His instinct urged him to uncover every photograph.

Every name. Every secret. Richard gently raised a hand.

"Not today." "Why not?" "Because if I reveal everything at once..."

"...you'll spend the rest of your life chasing revenge."

He paused. "But if you uncover the truth one step at a time..."

"...you'll know what justice actually looks like."

Ethan stood motionless. For the first time...

He understood why Richard had waited six years.

This wasn't preparation for war. It was preparation for wisdom.

Richard reached into the drawer beneath Margaret's desk.

From inside, he removed a small velvet box. It was no larger than the palm of his hand.

The deep navy fabric had faded with age. He placed it carefully before Ethan.

"Your mother wanted you to have this before you read her letter."

Ethan hesitated. "What is it?" Richard smiled faintly.

"The only gift she chose herself." With steady hands...

Ethan lifted the lid. Inside the velvet box rested a simple wristwatch.

Ethan blinked. It wasn't made of gold.

There were no diamonds embedded around its face.

Its brown leather strap had softened with age, and the silver casing bore tiny scratches from years of use.

It looked ordinary. Yet the moment Ethan saw it, his throat tightened.

"I remember this." Richard smiled. "Your mother wore it almost every day."

Memories flooded back. As a child, Ethan had often rested his head on Margaret's lap during long car rides.

Whenever she brushed his hair aside, he would hear the gentle ticking of that watch.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

It had become the sound he associated with safety. "I thought it was buried with her."

Richard shook his head. "The night before she died, she removed it and handed it to me."

He looked at the watch with quiet respect.

"She said, 'When my son begins to doubt himself, give him this.'"

Ethan carefully lifted it from the box. The leather still carried the faint scent of lavender.

His mother's favorite fragrance. Without thinking, he fastened it around his wrist.

It fit perfectly. As though it had always belonged there.

Richard chuckled softly. "She always believed it would."

Ethan looked at the watch. "It's stopped." "It hasn't."

Richard pointed to the small crown on its side. "It simply needs to be wound."

Ethan slowly turned it. The second hand hesitated.

Then— Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound echoed gently through the study.

For reasons he couldn't explain, Ethan smiled.

It felt as though a part of his mother had started walking beside him again.

Richard allowed the moment to settle before speaking.

"Margaret believed people measured wealth incorrectly."

Ethan looked up. "She once told me that money can rebuild a company."

He paused. "But only character can rebuild a family."

Richard stepped toward the great conspiracy wall.

"That's why she spent more time preparing you than protecting her fortune."

Ethan followed him. His gaze returned to Samuel Ashford's photograph.

"So where do we begin?" Richard reached for a folder beneath the picture.

Across its cover, Margaret had written a single sentence.

Truth before judgment.

Richard handed it to Ethan. "If you intend to reclaim the Cole legacy, these words must become your foundation." Ethan opened the folder. Inside were handwritten notes.

Meeting dates. Bank records. Letters. Nothing dramatic.

Nothing sensational.Just carefully gathered facts.

His mother hadn't built a case on assumptions. She had built it on evidence.

"This took years." Richard nodded. "Fifteen." Ethan closed the folder gently.

"I understand now." "What?" "She wasn't searching for someone to blame."

Richard's eyes reflected quiet pride. "No." "She was searching for the truth."

Outside, the sun began to set beyond the lake.

Golden light poured through the study windows, illuminating Margaret's portrait.

For a brief moment, Ethan could almost imagine her smiling at him.

He straightened his shoulders. "I'm ready to read her letter."

Richard looked toward the envelope resting on the desk.

"I know." He picked it up with both hands and offered it to Ethan.

"This is the last thing your mother ever wrote." Ethan accepted it with trembling fingers.

He carefully broke the wax seal. Inside was a single folded sheet.

No lengthy document. No legal instructions. Just one handwritten page.

His eyes fell upon the opening line.

My dear Ethan,

His breathing caught. He had imagined this moment for six years.

Richard quietly turned toward the window, giving him privacy.

Ethan continued reading. His expression slowly changed.

Confusion. Disbelief. Then shock. Richard noticed. "What is it?" Ethan looked up, his face pale.

"This..." His voice barely emerged. "...this doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't?" Ethan handed him the letter. Richard read the first paragraph.

His eyes widened. "Impossible." Ethan stared at him.

"You've never read it before." "I haven't." "Then why are you saying it's impossible?"

Richard looked at the signature again. His face lost all color.

"This isn't the letter Margaret gave me." Silence crashed over the room.

Ethan felt his pulse racing. "What do you mean?"

Richard unfolded the page completely. "The envelope is hers."

"The handwriting is hers." "But..." He looked directly into Ethan's eyes.

"...someone replaced the original letter." Neither man spoke.

For the first time in years... Richard Morgan looked genuinely afraid.

If someone had entered Margaret's sanctuary...

If someone had known about the letter...

Then the conspiracy was far deeper than either of them had imagined.

Richard slowly folded the page. His voice became almost a whisper.

"Ethan..." "No," he corrected himself, looking at Ethan.

"Ethan..." "We're already too late."