Chapter 5: The Man Who Was Supposed To Be Dead
For a moment, nobody understood how to breathe.
The words remained suspended in the air.
*Your father.*
I looked at Adrian.
The color had completely disappeared from his face.
It was the first time I realized there was something more frightening to him than losing his family.
It was discovering that the person responsible might have been the one person he trusted most.
“That’s impossible,” Adrian said.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
Thomas lowered his eyes.
“My lord…”
“My father died fifteen years ago.””
“Yes.””
“Then explain what you just said.””
The old butler remained silent.
Adrian stepped forward.
“No.””
His voice became sharper.
“You don’t get to stand there and give me half an answer after everything that has happened tonight.””
Thomas looked at him.
“I know.””
“Then tell me.””
The butler hesitated.
“The man we found is not alive.””
The room fell silent.
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Thomas looked at me.
“It means the person who entered the east wing was not your father himself.””
A strange feeling moved through me.
“Then who?””
Thomas looked down at the necklace on the desk.
“Someone who was carrying something that belonged to him.””
Adrian stared at the necklace.
My necklace.
His expression changed.
“Where exactly did you find this?””
“In the hidden room.””
The answer immediately caught his attention.
“Hidden room?””
Thomas nodded.
“The room behind your father’s old study.””
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“There is no room behind the study.””
Thomas looked at him sadly.
“There was.””
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
I watched Adrian process the words.
His entire life had been built around this house.
He knew every hallway.
Every staircase.
Every locked door.
Every secret corner.
Or at least he thought he did.
“Take us there,” he said.
Thomas hesitated.
“My lord—”
“Now.””
The butler nodded.
I started to follow.
Adrian noticed.
“You should stay here.””
I stopped.
“Why?””
“Because I don’t know what we’re going to find.””
I looked at him.
“And you think I should wait here after discovering my entire identity was hidden from me?””
He had no answer.
For the first time, a small trace of surprise crossed his face.
Then he nodded.
“Stay close.””
We followed Thomas through the manor.
At night, Blackwood Estate felt like a different place.
The beautiful halls that looked elegant during the day now felt ancient and mysterious.
Portraits of past family members watched us as we walked.
Generations of Blackwoods staring down from the walls.
People who knew secrets I had spent my entire life searching for.
We reached the west corridor.
A place I had rarely entered.
The servants avoided it.
Nobody explained why.
They simply said certain parts of the manor belonged to the past.
Thomas stopped in front of an old wooden door.
It looked ordinary.
Almost too ordinary.
Adrian stared at it.
“My father’s study.””
“Yes.””
“I have been inside this room hundreds of times.””
Thomas nodded.
“But not behind it.””
The butler reached beneath a small wooden panel beside the door frame.
He pressed something hidden.
A soft click echoed.
The wall moved.
I stepped back.
A narrow passage appeared.
My heart started beating faster.
Adrian stared into the darkness.
“How long has this been here?””
“Since before you were born.””
He looked at Thomas.
“And you knew?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
The butler’s expression became painful.
“Because your father made me promise.””
Adrian laughed once.
But there was no humor in it.
“Everyone always made promises.””
He stepped into the passage.
We followed.
The air inside was cold.
The walls were covered with dust.
Old candles lined the path, untouched for years.
At the end was another door.
Thomas unlocked it.
Inside was a room frozen in time.
A desk.
A chair.
Boxes.
Old photographs.
Documents stacked carefully.
It was not a hidden room.
It was an archive.
A place where someone had stored the things they did not want anyone to find.
Adrian walked slowly inside.
I watched his face.
He recognized things.
Objects from his childhood.
A wooden horse.
An old family photo.
A book with his name written on the cover.
Then he stopped.
On the desk was a single photograph.
He picked it up.
His hands trembled.
“What is it?”” I asked.
He turned it around.
It showed a young woman.
She was smiling.
Beside her was Clara.
And in Clara’s arms was a baby.
Me.
But there was someone else in the photo.
A young Adrian.
A child.
Holding my tiny hand.
I stared.
“You knew me.””
Adrian looked at the photograph.
“I don’t remember.””
The pain in his voice was unbearable.
“You were twelve.””
“I should remember.””
“You were a child.””
He shook his head.
“No.””
His fingers tightened around the picture.
“My sister had a daughter, and I don’t remember her.””
The guilt in his expression made my chest hurt.
Before I could say anything, I noticed something on the back of the photograph.
Writing.
I took it carefully.
There was a sentence.
*She will inherit what was stolen from her.*
I looked at Adrian.
“What does that mean?””
He took the photograph.
His eyes moved across the words.
Then he walked toward the boxes.
“What was stolen?””
Nobody answered.
He opened the first box.
Inside were legal documents.
Property records.
Bank information.
Family papers.
Then he found something.
A folder marked with a name.
*Elena Blackwood.*
His sister.
He opened it.
The first pages were medical records.
The second pages were financial documents.
Then he stopped.
His face changed.
“What?””
He did not answer.
“Adrian?””
Slowly, he handed me the folder.
I read the page.
At first, I did not understand.
Then I did.
The documents were about inheritance.
Not ordinary inheritance.
A massive amount.
Properties.
Companies.
Accounts.
Everything originally belonging to Elena Blackwood.
And listed as the rightful heir:
*Evelyn Clara Blackwood.*
My hands went cold.
“She left this for me?””
Adrian nodded slowly.
“Your mother protected your future.””
I looked at the documents.
All my life, I had struggled.
I had worked because I had no choice.
I had lived believing I had nothing.
But somewhere in this world, there had been a truth waiting for me.
Not because I deserved wealth.
Not because I deserved a title.
Because someone had loved me enough to fight for me.
Then Adrian found another document.
His expression changed.
“What is it?””
He did not respond.
I stepped closer.
The paper was a letter.
Written by his father.
My heart sank.
Adrian read the first line aloud.
“Adrian.””
His voice was cold.
Not because of the words.
Because of the person who wrote them.
“My son.””
He continued.
“If you are reading this, then the truth has escaped my control.””
The room became silent.
The letter continued.
*I know you will hate me. Perhaps you should.*
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
*But understand this: everything I did was to protect this family.*
I almost laughed.
Protect.
That word again.
Everyone claimed they were protecting someone.
*Elena was weak. She allowed emotions to control her. She created a child who could destroy everything I built.*
Adrian stopped reading.
His hands shook.
I looked away.
Even hearing those words about me felt painful.
He forced himself to continue.
*The child had to disappear. The Blackwood name could not be divided.*
A terrible silence filled the room.
Then Adrian found the final page.
And the expression on his face changed from anger to horror.
“What?””
He slowly turned the paper toward me.
There was one sentence.
One sentence that made everything even worse.
*But Elena was not the only one who had a child.*
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?””
Adrian stared at the words.
His father had written one final message.
*Adrian, if you ever discover the truth, you must know this: the girl you found is not the only heir hidden from this family.*
A cold chill ran through me.
Another heir.
Another secret.
Another person erased.
Then, from somewhere behind us, a floorboard creaked.
We turned.
The hidden room door was slowly closing.
But nobody was near it.
Adrian stepped forward.
“Who’s there?””
A shadow moved in the doorway.
Then a woman’s voice answered.
A voice filled with years of anger and pain.
“Adrian…”
He froze.
The woman stepped into the light.
And when I saw her face, I understood why Adrian looked like he had seen a ghost.
Because she looked exactly like the woman in the photograph.
Exactly like Elena Blackwood.
His sister.
My mother.
May you like
And she whispered:
“You should have let the dead stay buried.””
