CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 8
THE WILL
For several seconds after Serena's scream, nobody moved.
The tunnel was completely dark.
Victor stood with one hand against the sealed iron door, breathing so hard I could hear him.
“Open it,” he whispered.
Elias said nothing.
“Open the door.”
“I can't.”
“You just told me you're my son.”
“I told you my name was Elias.”
Victor turned.
“You said Evan was dead.”
“He is.”
“Then who are you?”
The young man looked at him.
His face was unreadable.
“Someone your family buried without putting a body in the ground.”
Victor took a step toward him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
Elias looked at Graves.
The old butler lowered his eyes.
Elias sighed.
“The truth is worse than what Serena told you.”
Victor's voice cracked.
“Start talking.”
Before Elias could answer, a faint mechanical sound came from the wall.
A light flickered on.
Then another.
The tunnel was suddenly illuminated by weak yellow bulbs.
Graves looked around.
“This isn't the escape tunnel.”
Victor frowned.
“What?”
Graves walked toward the wall.
“We're in the old archive.”
I looked at the shelves.
They were filled with boxes.
Hundreds of them.
Each one carried a year.
And then—
Graves stopped.
His face changed.
“What?”
He pointed to the last shelf.
“That's the year Eleanor died.”
Victor walked toward it.
“There are three boxes.”
“Why three?”
Graves whispered:
“Because your father kept three versions of the truth.”
Victor opened the first.
Inside were legal documents.
Birth certificates.
Property deeds.
Bank statements.
The second contained photographs.
The third contained a sealed envelope.
On the front was written:
TO VICTOR — ONLY AFTER MY DEATH.
Victor stared at it.
“My father's handwriting.”
“Open it,” I said.
He broke the seal.
A single page lay inside.
Victor,
If you are reading this, then I am dead and someone has finally forced you to question the family history I gave you.
Do not trust Eleanor.
Do not trust Serena.
And above all, do not trust the child called Elias.
There are things you will never understand unless you find the original will.
Victor stopped reading.
“The original will.”
Graves's expression darkened.
“I thought it was destroyed.”
“Where is it?”
The butler looked toward the third box.
“Maybe your father wanted us to find it.”
Victor opened the box.
Inside was a leather folder.
On the cover:
THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF AUGUSTUS BLACKWOOD
Victor stared at the name.
His father.
The man whose shadow had ruled the family even after death.
He opened the folder.
The first page looked ordinary.
Property.
Stocks.
Companies.
Trusts.
Then came the inheritance clause.
Victor read it twice.
His face slowly changed.
“What?”
I looked over his shoulder.
The document said:
My estate shall not pass to my surviving son, Victor Blackwood, unless all claims relating to the children born to Eleanor Blackwood have been resolved.
Victor's hands tightened.
“That doesn't make sense.”
Graves shook his head.
“Keep reading.”
Victor continued.
The Blackwood estate shall instead remain in trust until the identity of the rightful heir is established.
“Rightful heir,” Victor whispered.
He turned the page.
The next clause was handwritten.
The rightful heir is not necessarily the child carrying the Blackwood name.
Victor stopped.
I felt a chill.
“Who is it?”
He turned the page.
The next section had been blacked out.
Every line.
Every name.
Every date.
Except one sentence.
Eleanor knew the truth.
Victor looked at Graves.
“Did you know about this?”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear.”
Victor flipped through the remaining pages.
Nothing.
Then a small envelope fell from the back.
It was addressed to:
THE CHILD WHO SURVIVES.
Victor stared at it.
“What does that mean?”
Elias spoke from behind us.
“It means your father expected someone to survive him.”
Victor turned.
“You know this?”
Elias nodded.
“He wrote another will.”
“What?”
“The one you have is the public version.”
“And the other?”
Elias pointed toward the shelves.
“It's hidden here.”
Graves looked alarmed.
“How do you know?”
“Because I was there when he wrote it.”
Victor stared at him.
“You were?”
“I was a child.”
“You remember?”
“I remember everything.”
Elias walked toward the shelves.
“That's why Dr. Black was afraid of me.”
Victor watched him.
“Why?”
“Because I heard what your father said.”
“What did he say?”
Elias pulled out a box.
“He said the family would collapse if the wrong child inherited.”
He opened it.
Inside was another envelope.
This one was sealed with black wax.
Elias handed it to Victor.
“That's the real will.”
Victor looked at the seal.
“My father died twelve years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Why wasn't this found?”
“Because nobody knew where he hid it.”
“Except you.”
“Yes.”
Victor stared at him.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you weren't ready.”
“For what?”
Elias looked at the envelope.
“For the name written inside.”
Victor broke the seal.
The document was only four pages.
The first was written in his father's handwriting.
The second contained a list of names.
The third contained instructions.
The fourth contained a confession.
Victor read the first line.
Then stopped.
“Read it aloud,” I said.
He shook his head.
“Victor.”
He swallowed.
Then began.
“I, Augustus Blackwood, being of sound mind, declare that the person known publicly as my son, Victor Blackwood, is not my biological child.”
The words seemed to freeze the room.
Victor stared at the page.
“No.”
Elias looked away.
Graves closed his eyes.
Victor continued.
“Victor was born to Eleanor Blackwood and Adrian Black.”
He stopped again.
The same name.
Dr. Adrian Black.
His biological father.
Victor's hands trembled.
“My whole life…”
Elias nodded.
“You were lied to.”
Victor looked at the next page.
“I raised Victor because I needed Adrian's bloodline under my control.”
Victor's breathing became ragged.
“Why?”
Elias answered.
“Because Adrian knew what your father had done.”
Victor continued reading.
“Eleanor discovered the truth before the birth of her children.”
His eyes moved faster.
“She attempted to leave.”
“I prevented her.”
“She threatened to expose the existence of the children.”
“I ordered Dr. Black to intervene.”
Victor stopped.
“Intervene.”
His voice was hollow.
“What does that mean?”
Elias whispered:
“Keep reading.”
Victor did.
“Eleanor died because she refused to surrender the first child.”
I covered my mouth.
Victor looked at me.
“She was murdered.”
Elias nodded.
The next line was worse.
“The child was removed.”
Victor's voice shook.
“Which child?”
He turned the page.
The name had been written clearly.
CLARA.
Victor looked at Elias.
“Clara.”
“Yes.”
“She was the first.”
“Yes.”
“But Serena said she was her daughter.”
Elias didn't answer.
Victor continued reading.
“Serena believed Clara was her daughter.”
He froze.
“What?”
Elias stepped closer.
“Serena was deceived.”
“By whom?”
“Your father.”
Victor looked at the document.
“Serena's child died at birth.”
Victor's face went white.
“What?”
Elias continued.
“Clara wasn't Serena's daughter.”
Victor stared at him.
“Then whose daughter was she?”
Elias whispered:
“Eleanor's.”
The room went silent.
Victor's eyes filled with tears.
“But Serena…”
“Your father gave Serena a dead infant's records and told her the baby was Clara.”
“Why?”
“To make her believe she had a child worth protecting.”
Victor shook his head.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if you understand your father.”
Elias looked at him.
“He wanted Serena to hate Eleanor.”
Victor stared.
“Why?”
“Because Eleanor knew the truth.”
Victor read the next paragraph.
“Eleanor gave birth to three children.”
“One child was Victor's biological son.”
“One child belonged to Adrian Black.”
“One child belonged to another man.”
Victor's eyes widened.
“Another man?”
Elias nodded.
“That's the part nobody knows.”
Victor turned the page.
The father's identity had been covered by a thick black line.
Someone had deliberately erased it.
Victor looked at Graves.
“Can you remove this?”
Graves examined it.
“No.”
“Why?”
“It's not ink.”
“What is it?”
“Burn damage.”
Victor stared.
“Someone burned the name out.”
Elias shook his head.
“Not someone.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
The final page contained the inheritance.
Victor read it.
“When I die, the Blackwood estate shall belong to the child who can prove the truth of Eleanor's death.”
Victor looked up.
“So the inheritance isn't about blood.”
“No.”
“It's about evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Who can prove what happened.”
Elias nodded.
“And if nobody can?”
“The estate remains frozen.”
Victor looked at the will.
“What about the company?”
“Frozen.”
“The house?”
“Frozen.”
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
Victor laughed bitterly.
“My father built all this just to make sure his children fought over it.”
Elias shook his head.
“No.”
“What then?”
“He wanted us to find each other.”
Victor stared.
“Why?”
Elias's expression became grim.
“Because he knew the person who killed Eleanor would come back.”
A noise came from the corridor.
Footsteps.
Victor immediately closed the will.
Graves turned off the lights.
We waited.
The footsteps approached.
Slow.
Measured.
Then stopped outside the archive.
Someone tried the door.
Once.
Twice.
Victor whispered:
“Who is it?”
No answer.
Then a woman's voice.
“Victor.”
He froze.
Serena.
“You don't have to be afraid.”
Victor moved toward the door.
Elias grabbed him.
“Don't.”
“She's outside.”
“She wants you to open it.”
Victor pulled away.
“She could be hurt.”
“She is.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I can hear her breathing.”
We listened.
The woman outside was sobbing.
“Victor, please.”
I whispered:
“Maybe she's telling the truth.”
Elias shook his head.
“No.”
The voice outside changed.
“Victor.”
The sobbing stopped.
The voice became cold.
“You really should have listened to me.”
Victor's face hardened.
“Who are you?”
A man's laughter came through the door.
Elias went pale.
“Dr. Black.”
The door exploded inward.
Wood splintered.
Victor pulled me backward.
A gunshot rang out.
The bullet struck the wall.
Graves fell behind a cabinet.
Elias grabbed the will.
“Run!”
We fled through a narrow passage behind the shelves.
Victor shouted:
“Where does this lead?”
“Up!”
“To where?”
“The old library!”
We ran.
Behind us, Dr. Black shouted:
“Victor!”
Another gunshot.
“Your father's will won't save you!”
Victor stopped.
Elias grabbed him.
“Keep moving!”
But Victor turned.
“Why does he want the will?”
Elias looked at him.
“Because it names the rightful heir.”
“Who?”
Elias hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Me.”
Victor froze.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm the only one who can prove what happened.”
Victor stared.
“But you said you weren't my son.”
“I said I wasn't Evan.”
“Then who are you?”
Elias looked at him.
“My real name is Daniel Black.”
Victor's face went blank.
“Daniel?”
“Adrian Black's son.”
“Then why did you call yourself Elias?”
“Because Elias was the name of the child who died.”
Victor stared.
“What child?”
“The child everyone thinks I am.”
I felt dizzy.
“So Evan, Elias, and Daniel…”
“Three names.”
“For one person.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To hide me from your father.”
Victor whispered:
“Then where is the real Evan?”
Daniel looked away.
“Dead.”
“Who killed him?”
“Dr. Black.”
Victor stared.
“Why?”
“Because Evan knew the secret.”
“What secret?”
Daniel looked at him.
“The identity of the rightful heir.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“And who is it?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at the will in his hands.
The last page had begun to unfold.
A name appeared.
Victor read it.
Then his face turned white.
“No.”
I looked at the page.
The name was unmistakable.
ETHAN BLACKWOOD.
Victor stared at his son's name.
“The heir is Ethan.”
Daniel nodded.
“The boy Serena was trying to save.”
Victor finally understood.
Everything.
The attack.
The lies.
The hidden rooms.
The recordings.
The missing children.
The obsession with Ethan.
His father's entire plan had been built around one child.
His youngest son.
The one nobody had considered important.
The one everyone had tried to control.
Victor whispered:
“They were never fighting over the estate.”
Daniel looked at him.
“No.”
“They were fighting over Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Daniel's expression hardened.
“Because your father knew something about Ethan's blood.”
Victor stared.
“What?”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Ethan isn't only a Blackwood.”
Victor frowned.
“Then what is he?”
Daniel whispered:
“He is Adrian Black's grandson.”
Victor froze.
“And that means…”
Daniel nodded.
“Ethan carries the bloodline your father spent his entire life trying to destroy.”
A terrible crash sounded behind us.
Dr. Black had found the passage.
Daniel pushed Victor toward the stairs.
“Go!”
Victor grabbed his arm.
“What about you?”
Daniel smiled sadly.
“I've been running for twenty-two years.”
He looked toward the approaching footsteps.
“It's time I stopped.”
Victor refused to leave.
“No.”
“Go.”
“No.”
“Your son needs you.”
Victor stared at him.
Then something changed in his face.
For the first time, he looked like a father instead of an heir.
He grabbed my hand.
“We're leaving.”
Daniel nodded.
“Take the will.”
Victor looked at him.
“What about you?”
Daniel stepped into the darkness.
“I'll hold him here.”
“Daniel—”
“Go.”
We ran.
Behind us, the sound of two men shouting echoed through the passage.
Then—
silence.
When we reached the library, Victor collapsed into a chair.
I looked at him.
“Ethan is the heir.”
He nodded.
“Your father knew.”
“Yes.”
“And Serena knew.”
“Yes.”
“And Dr. Black knew.”
“Yes.”
“That's why they wanted him.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“And that's why Serena hurt him.”
I sat beside him.
“What are you going to do?”
Victor opened his eyes.
For the first time since this nightmare began, there was no confusion in them.
Only determination.
“I am going to get my son.”
Then he looked at the will.
“And I'm going to find out who killed Eleanor.”
Before I could answer, his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Victor answered.
A child's voice whispered:
“Daddy?”
Victor froze.
“Ethan?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
A pause.
Then Ethan whispered:
“I'm with Grandma.”
Victor stood.
“Serena?”
“No.”
His voice became frightened.
“Grandma Eleanor.”
Victor's face went completely white.
“Ethan, listen to me. Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Look around.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“She told me not to open my eyes.”
Victor looked at me.
Then Ethan whispered:
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“There's another little boy here.”
Victor's breathing stopped.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
The boy beside Ethan began crying.
Ethan whispered:
“He says his name is Evan.”
The call suddenly ended.
Victor stared at the phone.
I whispered:
“Evan is alive.”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
He looked at the will.
“The name on the death certificate wasn't Evan.”
“What was it?”
Victor turned the page.
The death certificate attached to the file belonged to:
ELIAS BLACKWOOD.
He looked at me.
“Then we've been searching for the wrong dead child.”
May you like
And somewhere upstairs, the front door opened.
Someone had come home.
