Chapter 8: What Was Buried Beneath the Mansion
The door slammed shut, and Adrian threw his shoulder against it.
The lock held.
“Charlotte!”” he shouted.
From the other side came the sound of footsteps descending a staircase.
Then silence.
Adrian stepped back and struck the door with his fist.
“Damn it!””
I grabbed his arm.
“We have to find another way.””
He turned toward the man in the gray suit, who was struggling to stand beside the overturned table.
“Where does that door lead?””
The man wiped blood from his mouth.
“I don't know.””
Adrian seized the front of his jacket.
“Try again.””
“I swear to you, I don't know!””
A siren sounded somewhere beyond the townhouse.
Marcus had brought the police.
The man glanced toward the window, then looked at Adrian.
“Your grandfather has a private passage beneath the house. It connects to the old service tunnels.””
“Where do they lead?””
“An underground garage.””
Adrian released him.
“Marcus!””
The front door burst open.
Marcus entered with two officers behind him.
“Where's Vincent?””
“Gone,” Adrian replied.
“He's taken Charlotte through a tunnel.””
One officer hurried toward the side door while the other restrained the man in the gray suit.
Marcus turned to me.
“Are you hurt?””
“No. But Charlotte is.””
Adrian pulled out his phone.
“Track the vehicle. He won't get far.””
Marcus shook his head.
“He may already have left London.””
“Then we'll find him wherever he goes.””
I stood beside the scratched family portrait, staring at the two little girls beneath Eleanor's face.
The fire hadn't been meant to kill us.
What had Charlotte meant?
Adrian followed my gaze.
“Whatever your mother did, Vincent thinks the truth is hidden beneath the mansion.””
I touched the locket chain in my hand.
“Then we go back to the place where everything started.””
The Whitmore mansion stood abandoned on a wooded estate nearly two hours from London.
The local authorities had condemned the structure after the fire. Most of the roof had collapsed, and the east wing had been reduced to blackened stone. Ivy climbed the surviving walls, and the iron gates hung crookedly from their hinges.
We arrived shortly before midnight.
Marcus stayed with the police near the entrance while Adrian and I entered through a broken window.
The smell hit me immediately.
Burned timber.
Wet stone.
Ash.
My knees weakened.
Adrian caught me before I fell.
“Isabella, look at me.””
I clutched his coat.
“I can't.””
“You don't have to remember everything tonight.””
“But Charlotte said our mother did something. What if she was responsible?””
“Then we'll find out what happened. Whatever the truth is, you don't have to face it alone.””
He took a flashlight from his pocket and led me through the ruined hallway.
The floor creaked beneath our feet. Shattered glass glittered among the debris, and fragments of wallpaper hung like torn skin from the walls.
We reached the remains of the nursery.
Two small beds stood beneath the collapsed ceiling.
One had been almost entirely destroyed by fire.
The other was strangely intact, protected by a fallen beam.
I stepped toward it.
A wooden horse lay beneath the bed.
The same kind Adrian had kept.
I picked it up.
A memory struck me so violently that I dropped to my knees.
My mother stood beside the two beds, holding a leather folder.
Richard Whitmore stood opposite her, his face twisted with rage.
“You promised me the documents,” he said.
Eleanor shook her head.
“I promised to protect my daughters.””
“You promised to sign the trust over to me!””
“And I changed my mind.””
Richard grabbed her arm.
“You think those girls will thank you for this? You think they'll understand why you destroyed their future?””
Eleanor pulled away.
“If the money is what you want, take it. But you'll never touch my children.””
Richard's expression changed.
“Then neither will you.””
The memory dissolved.
I gasped and clutched my head.
Adrian knelt beside me.
“What did you see?””
“Richard. He was arguing with my mother. She had a folder.””
“Where?””
I looked around the nursery.
“Somewhere here.””
We searched beneath the broken furniture until Adrian found a narrow wooden panel behind the fireplace.
It was secured by two rusted screws.
He removed them with a small tool from his pocket.
Behind the panel was a metal box.
Inside lay a bundle of documents wrapped in oilcloth, a child's bracelet, and a sealed envelope bearing my mother's name.
I opened the envelope with shaking hands.
My beloved daughters,
If you are reading this, then the people who tried to separate us have finally failed.
*I need you to understand something. The Whitmore fortune was never the reason I fought Richard. The trust was established by your grandmother to protect children who had been abandoned, abused, or forgotten.
Richard wanted to turn it into a private investment fund. Vincent agreed to help him because he believed the money would save his failing company.*
I refused.
The night of the fire, I discovered that Richard had arranged for Charlotte to be taken. I hid the evidence in the nursery, hoping I could retrieve it before he realized what I had done.
But I made a terrible mistake.
I trusted Vincent.
My hands trembled.
Adrian read over my shoulder.
The letter continued.
Vincent told me he would help me get the girls out. Instead, he locked the east-wing doors while Richard's men set the fire. I escaped through the servants' passage, but the smoke separated me from Isabella.
Your father found Isabella outside the house. He believed Charlotte had already been taken to safety. By the time he discovered the truth, the mansion was burning.
I have spent the rest of my life searching for both of you.
If you ever find each other again, remember this: your family is not defined by the people who share your blood. It is defined by the people who refuse to abandon you.
I love you both.
Mother.
I lowered the letter.
Adrian's face had gone pale.
“Vincent locked the doors.””
“He knew we were inside,” I whispered.
“And he let the fire spread.””
A faint sound came from the corridor.
Footsteps.
Adrian extinguished his flashlight and pulled me behind the remains of a wardrobe.
A man's voice drifted through the darkness.
“I know you're here, Isabella.””
Vincent.
He stepped into the nursery carrying a flashlight and a small pistol.
“I was hoping you'd find the box,” he said.
“It saves me the trouble of searching.””
Adrian moved in front of me.
“Put the gun down.””
Vincent smiled sadly.
“You sound exactly like your father.””
“You murdered my childhood.””
“I protected this family.””
“You destroyed two little girls' lives.””
Vincent's expression hardened.
“I made a choice. Your father made one, too. Everyone in this story made choices, Adrian. Some of us simply had the courage to live with the consequences.””
I stepped out from behind the wardrobe.
“You locked the doors.””
Vincent looked at me.
“Yes.””
The word fell between us like a stone.
“You knew we were inside.””
“Yes.””
“And you still left us there?””
His eyes flickered.
“I believed Richard had already taken Charlotte. I thought you were the only child left in the house.””
“That doesn't answer my question.””
For the first time, his composure cracked.
“I thought the fire would destroy the evidence. I thought Eleanor would surrender the trust. I thought your father would stay out of it.””
“And when you discovered I survived?””
Vincent lowered the gun slightly.
“I tried to find you.””
“Why?””
“Because the trust couldn't be transferred without your signature once you reached adulthood. I needed you alive.””
I stared at him.
“So you didn't want me dead. You wanted me useful.””
He said nothing.
Adrian took a step forward.
“It's over.””
Vincent laughed bitterly.
“Is it? Look around you. This house is a ruin.
The trust is nearly bankrupt. The evidence you found won't bring back the people who died.””
“No,” Adrian replied.
“But it will make sure you answer for them.””
Vincent raised the gun again.
Then a voice came from the doorway.
“Put it down, Father.””
Charlotte stood in the corridor, her wrists free, her face bruised but determined.
Behind her were two police officers.
Vincent stared at her.
“How did you escape?””
Charlotte lifted her chin.
“You taught me to survive.””
One officer stepped forward.
“Mr. Kane, put the weapon on the floor.””
Vincent looked from Charlotte to Adrian, then to me.
For one brief moment, I thought he might surrender.
Instead, he smiled.
“You still don't understand, do you?””
He pointed the gun toward the metal box.
“The documents are worthless without the original ledger. And the ledger isn't here.””
Adrian frowned.
“Where is it?””
Vincent looked at me.
“Ask your mother what happened to the money she stole from the trust.””
Charlotte went pale.
“That's impossible.””
Vincent's smile widened.
“Your mother didn't just hide the evidence, girls. She took the money, too.””
Then he turned toward the shattered window.
A gunshot exploded through the nursery.
May you like
The flashlight fell from Vincent's hand.
And in the darkness that followed, Charlotte screamed my name.
