Chapter 11: Ashcombe House
The road to Ashcombe House wound through a stretch of woodland where the trees grew so close together that their branches formed a dark tunnel overhead.
Sophie drove with both hands on the wheel.
Richard sat beside her, watching the road. Margaret remained at her home, where Daniel had arranged for an independent security team to protect her and preserve the notebook.
Before leaving, Sophie had sent copies of the financial documents to an attorney who had no ties to either family. She had also arranged for the messages and Victor's threats to be preserved.
If she disappeared, someone would know where to start looking.
It wasn't enough.
But it was better than trusting Victor's promise that nobody else would get hurt.
“Why did you agree to come with me?”” Sophie asked.
Richard stared out the window.
“Because I know the property.””
“That's not what I asked.””
He turned toward her.
“Because I helped create the circumstances that led to your mother's death, even if I didn't cause the accident. I spent twelve years telling myself that keeping quiet protected my employees and my daughter.””
“And now?””
“Now my daughter has become someone I barely recognize.””
Sophie glanced at him.
“You mean Camille?””
“Yes.””
“She threw me into a swimming pool because she thought I was beneath her.””
Richard winced.
“I know.””
“Do you?””
He said nothing.
Sophie continued.
“You watched her humiliate employees. You promoted her despite complaints. You let her believe that the rules applied to everyone except your family.””
“I thought I was giving her time to mature.””
“You were teaching her that cruelty had no consequences.””
Richard lowered his head.
“I can't argue with that.””
The road curved sharply.
Ahead, iron gates emerged from the trees. Beyond them stood Ashcombe House, a sprawling stone mansion with boarded windows, a collapsed conservatory, and ivy climbing its weathered walls.
A single vehicle sat near the entrance.
A silver company car.
Camille's.
Sophie stopped the SUV.
“She beat us here.””
Richard looked at the house.
“Then we need to find her before Victor does.””
They entered through a side gate whose lock had been broken recently. Inside, the grounds were overgrown, and the gravel path disappeared beneath weeds.
A light shone through a window on the ground floor.
Sophie approached the entrance and called out.
“Camille?””
No answer.
She pushed the door open.
The smell of damp wood and dust filled the hall. Their footsteps echoed against the stone floor. A staircase rose toward a dark upper landing, while a corridor led to what had once been a formal dining room.
“Camille?”” Richard called.
A crash sounded upstairs.
Sophie ran toward the staircase.
At the top, she found Camille kneeling beside an overturned cabinet. Papers were scattered across the floor, and a small wooden box lay open near her feet.
Camille looked up.
Her face was streaked with tears.
“Get out.””
Sophie stopped.
“Are you hurt?””
“Does it look like I care?””
Richard stepped forward.
“Camille, what are you doing here?””
She laughed bitterly.
“Trying to clean up your mess. Again.””
She held up a bundle of papers.
“I found these in a false compartment behind the cabinet. They're records of every transfer made through the foundation account. Every payment.
Every company. Every signature.””
Sophie crouched beside her.
“Did you find the original account number?””
Camille nodded.
“It's here.””
She pointed to a page containing a series of transactions from twelve years earlier.
Sophie scanned the figures.
One account had received repeated deposits from companies connected to both Laurent Estates and Morel Héritage. The final transfer was dated six weeks after Eleanor's death.
The amount matched the payment to Richard's family office.
But beneath the transaction was a second entry.
A withdrawal made the following day.
The funds had been transferred to a private trust registered under a different name.
*The Eleanor Foundation Legacy Trust.*
Sophie frowned.
“My mother established this trust?””
Richard shook his head.
“Not that I know of.””
Camille looked at him.
“You told me you'd never heard of it.””
“I hadn't.””
“Then why does the trust's first payment come from your company?””
Richard stared at the page.
“I don't know.””
Sophie examined the beneficiary list.
There were two names.
Maya Bennett.
And Camille Laurent.
Camille's face went white.
“What?””
Sophie turned the paper toward her.
“Your name is listed as a beneficiary.””
Camille shook her head.
“No. That's impossible.””
“Did you know about this trust?””
“No.””
“Did your father?””
Camille looked at Richard.
He appeared genuinely stunned.
Sophie studied the document. The trust had been established shortly before Eleanor's death, and the listed beneficiaries were two young women from different families.
One was Eleanor's biological daughter.
The other was Richard Laurent's daughter.
Why would Eleanor create a trust for Camille?
Unless Camille's father had been involved in something far more personal than financial fraud.
A sound came from the hall below.
Footsteps.
Richard moved toward the doorway.
“Who's there?””
A voice answered.
“Someone who would prefer not to be shot.””
Victor appeared at the top of the stairs, accompanied by two men.
He held a pistol at his side.
Camille scrambled backward.
“You followed me?””
Victor looked at her.
“You took company property without authorization.””
“It's my father's company!””
“Not for much longer.””
He raised the gun.
“Give me the documents.””
Sophie stood slowly.
“Put the weapon down, Victor.””
“You're in no position to give orders.””
“Neither are you. The police have copies of the records.””
Victor smiled.
“No, they don't.””
Sophie kept her expression neutral.
“An independent attorney has them. If we fail to check in, the files will be released.””
It was a bluff.
She had sent copies of only a portion of the documents. The original account details were still in her possession.
Victor seemed to consider the possibility.
Then he turned toward Richard.
“You should have stayed out of this.””
Richard stepped between him and Camille.
“She's my daughter.””
“And that has always been your weakness.””
Victor's voice hardened.
“You've spent your life protecting her from the consequences of your decisions. Now look at what you've created.””
Camille flinched.
Sophie saw the words hit their target.
Victor had learned to use people's guilt as effectively as he used money.
“Why did you kill Eleanor?”” Sophie asked.
Victor looked at her.
“I told you. I didn't.””
“Then why did you arrange the meeting at Ashcombe House?””
His eyes narrowed.
“Who told you that?””
“Margaret.””
For the first time, Victor appeared genuinely unsettled.
“That old woman should have kept her promise.””
“What promise?””
“To leave the past alone.””
Sophie felt anger rise in her chest.
“You threatened her for twelve years. You stole money from a charity. You kidnapped my father. And now you're standing here pretending that the person who exposed you is the problem.””
Victor raised the gun.
“Enough.””
Camille suddenly moved.
She grabbed the wooden box and hurled it at Victor's arm.
The gun fired.
The shot shattered a window.
Richard tackled one of Victor's men while Sophie pulled Camille behind the overturned cabinet. Papers flew through the air as the second man lunged toward them.
Sophie struck him with a heavy brass candlestick.
He staggered.
Camille kicked his knee, and he fell against the wall.
Victor recovered first.
He grabbed the bundle of papers from the floor and ran toward the stairs.
“Stop him!”” Sophie shouted.
Richard pursued him, but Victor slammed a door between them.
By the time Sophie reached the landing, Victor had escaped through the rear entrance.
The gunfire had left the house unnervingly quiet.
Camille sat on the floor, shaking.
Richard knelt beside her.
“Are you hurt?””
She pulled away.
“Don't touch me.””
“Camille—”
“You lied to me about everything.””
He looked devastated.
“I was trying to protect you.””
She laughed through her tears.
“That's what everyone says.””
Sophie picked up the wooden box.
Inside was a small envelope addressed to Eleanor Morel.
Beneath it lay a folded page containing a handwritten account number.
She read the number twice.
Then she noticed the signature at the bottom.
It wasn't Adrian's.
It wasn't Richard's.
It belonged to Victor Hale.
But beneath his signature was a second line.
*Approved by M. Laurent.*
Sophie looked at Richard.
“Who is M. Laurent?””
He stared at the page.
His lips parted.
Then he whispered, “My mother.””
Before Sophie could ask another question, Camille rose unsteadily to her feet.
“My grandmother died before I was born.””
Richard looked at her.
“Yes.””
Camille's face drained of color.
“Then why is her signature on a document dated three days before Eleanor's death?””
Richard had no answer.
From outside came the distant wail of sirens.
Sophie looked toward the broken window.
May you like
Someone had called the police.
And whoever had done it knew exactly where they were.
