Chapter 7 — Edmund’s Confession
Nathan found Edmund in the old study.
Of course he did.
The man had always preferred rooms filled with books and silence. It was where he had negotiated contracts, written legal documents, and advised three generations of Ashcombes.
Tonight, he sat alone behind the wooden desk.
A glass of untouched whiskey rested beside him.
He did not look surprised when Nathan entered.
That was the first thing Nathan noticed.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Surprise would have meant Edmund had been caught.
But Edmund looked like a man who had been waiting.
“You found the ledger,” Edmund said.
Nathan closed the door behind him.
“You knew.”
Edmund sighed.
“I knew you would eventually.”
Nathan walked closer.
“You knew about Alexander.”
The older man remained silent.
That silence confirmed everything.
Nathan’s anger rose.
“Where is he?”
Edmund looked down.
“I don’t know.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because sometimes the truth is that nobody knows.”
Nathan placed the photograph on the desk.
Edmund’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Nathan saw it.
A tiny crack in the man’s perfect control.
“Who sent this?”
Edmund picked up the photograph.
His fingers moved over the edge.
Almost gently.
“Where did you get this?”
“That is not my question.”
Edmund looked at him.
For the first time in thirty-one years, Nathan saw something unexpected in Edmund’s eyes.
Pain.
“I failed him.”
Nathan froze.
The answer was not what he expected.
“What?”
“Alexander.”
Edmund placed the photograph down.
“I failed him.”
Nathan remained silent.
The anger was still there.
But now there was something else.
Curiosity.
“Tell me everything.”
Edmund leaned back.
The fire reflected in the glass behind him.
“Your father and Clara were young.”
Nathan said nothing.
“Richard was not the man people believed he was when he was twenty-four. Before the money. Before the family responsibilities. Before he became the man you knew.”
“He loved her?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“Then your grandfather found out.”
Nathan already knew where this was going.
“He forced him to choose.”
Edmund nodded.
“The Ashcombe name or Clara.”
“And he chose the name.”
Edmund looked away.
“Eventually.”
The word bothered Nathan.
“Eventually?”
“Because Richard came back.”
Nathan stared.
“What?”
“He wanted to leave everything behind. The company. The inheritance. The family.”
“Why didn’t he?”
Edmund’s face tightened.
“Because your grandfather threatened to destroy Clara’s life.”
Nathan felt cold.
“He threatened her?”
“Yes.”
“And you let him?”
Edmund closed his eyes.
“No.”
The answer came quietly.
“I tried to stop it.”
“Try harder.”
Edmund accepted the accusation.
“I should have.”
A long silence passed.
“Alexander was born months later.”
Nathan looked at the photograph.
“And Celia?”
Edmund’s expression changed.
“She was born two years after Alexander.”
Nathan understood.
The secrets were connected.
Celia was not just Edmund’s hidden daughter.
Alexander was connected to both families.
“What happened to Alexander?”
Edmund looked toward the window.
“Your grandfather arranged for him to be taken away.”
Nathan’s hands clenched.
“Taken away where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who does?”
Edmund hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Nathan stepped forward.
“You do.”
“No.”
“You do.”
Edmund looked at him.
Then slowly reached into his desk drawer.
He removed an old envelope.
The paper was worn.
The seal was broken.
“I received this fourteen years ago.”
Nathan took it.
The handwriting on the front was unfamiliar.
But the name was clear.
Nathan Ashcombe.
His own name.
“What is this?”
Edmund’s voice became almost a whisper.
“A letter Alexander wrote to you.”
Nathan stopped breathing.
“Why didn’t I get it?”
Edmund looked at him.
“Because someone in this house made sure you never would.”
“Who?”
Edmund’s eyes moved toward the ceiling.
Toward the upper floors.
Toward the bedrooms where the Ashcombe family had slept for generations.
Then he said:
“Your mother.”
Nathan stared.
“No.”
Edmund lowered his voice.
“Your mother wasn’t protecting the family.”
May you like
A pause.
“She was protecting the person who destroyed it.”
