Chapter 8: The Missing Page

Sterling.

The name echoed through the foyer long after Eleanor spoke it.

My fingers tightened around the walnut box.

For a brief second, memories I had buried three years ago clawed their way back to the surface.

Nathaniel had spoken that surname only once.

The night before he died.

I walked down the staircase without changing my expression.

The living room doors stood open.

Two men in charcoal suits waited beside the fireplace.

One was elderly, perhaps in his late sixties.

The other couldn't have been much older than thirty.

Both stood the moment Damien entered.

"Mr. Ashford," the older man greeted.

"Mr. Sterling," Damien replied, extending his hand.

They shook hands.

Neither noticed me standing near the staircase.

That suited me perfectly.

"We apologise for arriving without notice," Mr. Sterling said.

"Our legal department discovered an inconsistency in one of the archived partnership files."

"What kind of inconsistency?" Damien asked.

"A missing document."

My heartbeat slowed.

"Which document?"

"A page from the Hawthorne Development acquisition three years ago."

Three years.

Again.

Everything seemed determined to drag me back to that year.

"Only one page is missing," the younger man added.

"Unfortunately, it's the signature page."

"Without it," Mr. Sterling continued, "certain ownership records become... difficult to verify."

Damien frowned.

"And why bring this to me?"

"Because your father personally handled the transaction."

"After his death, responsibility transferred to you."

I quietly continued walking.

No one stopped me.

As I reached the hallway, Damien finally noticed.

"Vivian."

I paused.

"We're talking business."

"I noticed."

"Stay."

I looked at him for several long seconds.

"I don't think your guests came to see me."

Mr. Sterling politely smiled.

"Actually..."

"Mrs. Ashford may know something."

Every eye in the room shifted toward me.

"Me?"

"Your brother worked briefly as an independent jewellery consultant during that acquisition."

"Nathaniel Romano."

The room became painfully quiet.

"His name appears several times inside the project records."

Damien's head slowly turned toward me.

"You never mentioned that."

"You never asked."

Mr. Sterling opened a leather folder.

He carefully removed several photocopied documents.

"We're reconstructing the complete file."

"Unfortunately..."

"One page disappeared."

He spread the papers across the coffee table.

"Perhaps one of these signatures looks familiar."

I stepped closer.

The first page listed financial transfers.

The second contained land surveys.

The third was correspondence.

Then...

My eyes stopped.

There it was.

Nathaniel's handwriting.

Just one short note scribbled across the bottom margin.

Meeting postponed. Bring revised draft tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

He never saw tomorrow.

He died that night.

"Mrs. Ashford?"

Mr. Sterling's voice gently pulled me back.

"Do you recognise any of these?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"This note belongs to my brother."

"Nothing else."

"You're certain?"

"Very."

The younger lawyer looked disappointed.

"Without the missing page we can't determine who authorised the final transfer."

"The entire ownership chain becomes questionable."

Damien folded his arms.

"Find another copy."

"We've searched every archive."

"Nothing."

"Digital backups?"

"Deleted."

"Original files?"

"Destroyed in a warehouse fire six months later."

A warehouse fire.

Convenient.

Far too convenient.

I remained silent.

"We'll continue searching," Mr. Sterling finally said.

"If either of you remembers anything, contact me immediately."

"Of course," Damien answered.

The visitors soon left.

The front door closed behind them.

Silence settled over the mansion once more.

Damien remained staring at the scattered papers.

"Nathaniel worked on one of my father's acquisitions."

"Apparently."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would it have mattered?"

"Yes."

"No, Damien."

"It wouldn't."

"Back then you already believed I was carrying another man's child."

"You weren't interested in my family."

"Only in judging it."

He looked away.

"What's this missing page?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know."

That wasn't entirely true.

I knew exactly which page had disappeared.

Because Nathaniel had shown it to me.

Only once.

Late that evening.

"Viv," he had whispered while locking his office door.

"If anything happens to me..."

"Promise me you'll never let anyone find this."

He had slipped a folded page inside a thick envelope.

Then sealed it with wax.

"Why?" I had asked.

"Because this page proves someone powerful lied."

"Who?"

Nathaniel had smiled sadly.

"The less you know tonight..."

"The longer you'll stay alive."

The memory ended as quickly as it came.

I slowly looked toward the walnut box still resting in my hands.

Inside it...

Beneath the emerald necklace.

Under the unopened letter.

Hidden inside the velvet lining.

Rested one folded sheet of paper.

The missing page.

The very page every powerful family in the city had spent three years searching for.

And Damien had absolutely no idea it was already inside his own house.