Chapter 12 — The Secret Under Ashcombe Manor
The message remained on the floor for several seconds before anyone dared touch it.
The broken window allowed cold night air to sweep through the entrance hall.
The candles trembled.
The shadows moved.
And for the first time in Nathan’s life, Ashcombe Manor no longer felt like home.
It felt like a place someone had been waiting to enter.
Detective instincts told Nathan one thing.
Whoever left the message wanted to be found.
They wanted fear.
They wanted confusion.
But more importantly—
They wanted Nathan to keep searching.
Edmund picked up the paper carefully.
His face changed the moment he read it.
Nathan noticed.
“You know that handwriting.”
Edmund said nothing.
“Edmund.”
The older man folded the paper.
“I’ve seen it before.”
“Where?”
Edmund looked toward the staircase.
“In the blue room.”
Everyone became silent.
Nathan stepped closer.
“What are you saying?”
Edmund looked exhausted.
“The messages. The letters. The warnings.”
He held the paper tighter.
“They were not all written by Alexander.”
Alexander frowned.
“What?”
Edmund looked at him.
“I thought you sent them.”
“I didn’t.”
The realization moved through the room like a storm.
For twenty-six years, everyone had been searching for the wrong person.
Nathan looked at the message again.
“Then who has been sending them?”
Nobody answered.
Because everyone knew the answer would change everything.
An hour later, the family gathered in the blue room.
The room that had held their secrets.
The room that had survived generations.
Nathan stood beside the old shelves while Edmund examined the hidden compartment.
“There is something else here,” Edmund said.
He ran his fingers along the wooden panel.
“Your grandmother built this room with several hidden spaces.”
“Several?” Nathan asked.
Edmund nodded.
“The first one contained family documents.”
He looked at the walls.
“The second one contained evidence.”
Nathan’s eyes narrowed.
“Evidence of what?”
Edmund did not answer immediately.
Instead, he pressed another carved symbol.
A small section of the floor unlocked.
Everyone stared.
Beneath the wooden boards was a narrow staircase.
Celia whispered:
“I never knew that existed.”
Nathan looked at her.
“Neither did I.”
Edmund picked up a candle.
“We go down together.”
Nobody argued.
The staircase was old.
The air below was colder.
The walls were made of stone.
This was not a storage area.
It was something else.
A hidden room beneath a hidden room.
At the bottom was a small chamber.
Inside were dozens of boxes.
Photographs.
Documents.
And one large wooden chest.
Nathan approached it.
The lock was already broken.
Someone had opened it recently.
Inside was a collection of journals.
The first one belonged to his grandfather.
Thomas Ashcombe.
Nathan opened the first page.
The handwriting was sharp.
Controlled.
Cold.
The entry date was twenty-seven years earlier.
Richard has chosen emotion over responsibility.
He believes love can erase consequences.
It cannot.
Nathan turned the page.
The boy cannot remain.
If the world discovers the truth, the Ashcombe name ends.
His hands tightened.
His grandfather had known.
He had planned everything.
But then Nathan found another entry.
One sentence.
Written only days later.
I made one mistake.
I underestimated Edmund.
Nathan looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Alexander took the journal from him.
He turned several pages.
Then stopped.
His face changed.
“What?”
Alexander looked at Nathan.
“He wasn’t trying to remove me.”
The room became silent.
“He was trying to remove someone else.”
Nathan frowned.
“Who?”
Alexander pointed at the page.
A name had been written there.
A name everyone recognized.
Beatrice Ashcombe.
Nathan stared.
“No.”
His mother stepped backward.
“I can explain.”
The words were almost identical to what she had said before.
But this time—
Nobody wanted explanations.
Nathan looked at her.
“Why is your name in my grandfather’s journal?”
Beatrice’s eyes filled with tears.
“Because I was there.”
“Where?”
“The night Alexander disappeared.”
Alexander stepped forward.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me go.”
Beatrice closed her eyes.
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“I tried to stop it.”
Nathan stared.
“Then why did you hide the truth?”
Beatrice looked at him.
And finally admitted the one thing she had spent her entire life avoiding.
“Because the person who destroyed this family…”
A pause.
“…was not your grandfather.”
Everyone held their breath.
May you like
Beatrice whispered:
“It was me.”
