Chapter 6 — The Boy in the Photograph
Nathan stared at the photograph until the screen dimmed.
He tapped it again.
The image remained.
A boy standing outside Ashcombe Manor.
Not a stranger.
Not completely.
There was something unsettling about seeing a face that felt familiar without knowing why.
The boy looked around twelve years old. Dark hair. Serious expression. One hand holding the strap of an old backpack.
But the eyes.
Those eyes were the same shade Nathan had seen every morning in the mirror.
Hazel.
The Ashcombe eyes.
“Who sent that?” Celia whispered.
Nathan didn’t answer.
He looked at his mother.
“Alexander Vale.”
Beatrice closed her eyes.
The reaction was immediate.
She knew the name.
Not a guess.
Not a memory.
Recognition.
“Mother.”
She sat down slowly.
For the first time that night, she looked defeated.
“Alexander was Edmund’s son.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“No. The message said he was my brother.”
Beatrice looked at him.
“I know.”
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Celia moved closer to the desk.
“Then what happened?”
Beatrice looked at the old ledger.
“Twenty-six years ago, your father discovered that Clara Whitmore had given birth to a child.”
Nathan swallowed.
“His child.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he bring him home?”
Beatrice’s eyes filled with sadness.
“Because by then, he was already married to your mother.”
The words were simple.
But they carried years of damage.
Nathan stepped away.
“So my father abandoned him.”
“No.”
His mother’s answer was immediate.
“He wanted to help him.”
“Then why was his name changed?”
Beatrice looked toward the window.
“Because Edmund interfered.”
Celia froze.
“Why?”
“Because Edmund believed Alexander belonged to him.”
Nathan looked confused.
“But if Richard was his father—”
“Richard was his biological father.”
Beatrice paused.
“Edmund was the man who raised him.”
The room went silent.
Nathan looked at Celia.
Suddenly, everything became more complicated.
Two hidden children.
Two men.
One family built on secrets.
“Where is Alexander now?” Nathan asked.
Beatrice shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe nobody knows?”
“I searched for years.”
“Why?”
Her expression changed.
“Because your father asked me to.”
Nathan looked away.
That hurt more than he expected.
His father had known.
His father had searched.
His father had carried a secret he never shared.
Then his phone buzzed again.
Another message.
Unknown number.
This time, only five words.
Edmund knows where he is.
Nathan looked toward the library door.
Toward the dark hallway beyond it.
Because suddenly he understood.
Edmund Vale had not been protecting the family secrets.
May you like
He had been protecting himself.
And somewhere inside Ashcombe Manor, the man who knew the truth was still awake.
