Chapter 5
Hector Ames had been my father’s valet for twenty-seven years.
Retired now.
Seventy-three.
Still insulted anyone who called him elderly.
He came the next morning.
I did not tell him why.
Just asked about Bellmoor.
His face changed immediately.
“Finally.”
That annoyed me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your father hoped you’d never ask.”
I sat back.
Hector remembered the fire.
Everyone did.
But the official story had been cleaned.
Lucian did redirect the truck.
He did disobey.
He did lose Ashenford property.
All true.
What Father never told anyone publicly was why the families were trapped.
Because he ordered the neighboring building doors chained earlier that night to stop rival men using the passage.
He did not know civilians remained inside.
Lucian discovered them.
Had seconds.
Cargo or people.
He chose people.
Father called him disloyal because admitting the full story meant admitting whose order created the danger.
My stomach turned.
“Did Father know?”
“Hector laughed without humor.
“He was the one who ordered the chains.”
There.
Lucian was not innocent of disobedience.
He was guilty of it.
That was what saved lives.
Father punished him to protect authority.
Then spent fifteen years living with it.
“Did he regret it?”
Hector’s expression softened.
“Yes.”
That surprised me.
Father contacted Lucian twice over the years.
Lucian refused him.
Then, near the end, Lucian finally agreed to meet.
Not to beg.
Not to return.
To demand one thing.
Tell Torin.
“He was going to?”
Hector nodded.
“Your father told me that afternoon.”
My chest tightened.
Aldric planned to tell me the truth the next morning.
Then Davina switched his medicine.
Then he died.
The tragedy changed shape again.
Not murder.
Not simple natural death.
A confession delayed one night too long.
I asked:
“Did you see Davina?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know who she was?”
“Lucian’s daughter.”
Of course.
“Why didn’t you tell me after Father died?”
Hector looked ashamed.
“Lucian asked me not to.”
Why?
Because he believed his daughter’s mistake had already killed one family relationship.
He did not want Aldric’s death turned into vengeance.
“He thought you’d destroy her.”
Would I have?
At thirty-nine?
Five years ago?
Maybe.
That answer frightened me.
Hector continued.
“Lucian said the truth about Bellmoor mattered more than punishment.”
I sat in silence.
Davina had hidden her role.
Lucian had hidden it too.
For opposite reasons.
Fear.
May you like
Mercy.
Both had kept me blind.
