THE HEIR'S AGONY TRIAL BY FIRE

hints and lies

It started with Mrs. Cartwright again.

“You’re back,” she said, squinting at Aidan through her thick glasses. “What do you want this time?”

“Anything you can tell me about William Cross,” Aidan said, leaning against the doorframe.

Mrs. Cartwright pursed her lips. “You’re playing with fire, boy.”

“I’ve been told that before,” Aidan replied with a thin smile. “But I’m not stopping until I know the truth.”

She sighed heavily, stepping aside to let him in. The scent of lavender and old books filled her living room.

“I don’t know much,” she began, settling into her armchair. “But I remember your mother worked for the Cross family years ago. Big house on the hill—fancy, too fancy for folks like us.”

“She worked for them?” Aidan repeated, his brow furrowing.

Mrs. Cartwright nodded. “Your mother was a maid there. Hardworking, quiet. Then one day, she was gone. Rumors spread, of course.”

“What kind of rumors?”

She hesitated, eyeing him warily. “That she got involved with William Cross. He was young, rich, and reckless. She was... well, your mother. People said she left when she found out she was pregnant, but no one really knows the full story.”

Aidan sat back, his mind racing.

“Do you know where the family is now?” he asked.

“They moved away years ago,” Mrs. Cartwright said. “But people like the Crosses, they don’t disappear. They leave a trail if you know where to look.”

Back at home, Clara was pacing the kitchen, her face pale and drawn.

“You went back to Mrs. Cartwright, didn’t you?” she accused the moment Aidan walked in.

“I did,” Aidan said without hesitation.

Clara’s hand trembled as she gripped the counter. “Why can’t you let this go?”

“Because it’s my life,” Aidan shot back. “My father. Don’t I deserve to know?”

Clara shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’ve spent years trying to protect you from this, Aidan. You don’t know what you’re digging into.”

“Then tell me!” Aidan’s voice rose. “If you want to protect me, stop hiding the truth.”

Clara’s shoulders slumped. “You think the truth will set you free, but it won’t. It’ll chain you to a past that’s better left buried.”

“Maybe that’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said quietly.

Aidan’s search took him to other neighbors, people who had lived in the area long enough to remember. Most gave him nothing more than pitying looks or vague warnings.

But old Mr. Bennett, who ran the local hardware store, had something to say.

“I knew Clara when she was a kid,” Mr. Bennett said, his voice raspy. “Sweet girl. Smart, too. But life wasn’t kind to her.”

“What do you know about William Cross?” Aidan asked.

Mr. Bennett’s eyes darkened. “Not much directly. But I know his family didn’t take kindly to your mother. They were the kind of people who’d do anything to protect their reputation.”

“Do you think they forced her out?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Mr. Bennett said grimly.

That night, Aidan sat in his room, piecing together the fragments of stories and half-truths he had gathered. It wasn’t enough.

He needed something concrete.

The floorboards creaked under his bed as he shifted. The sound was subtle, but it caught his attention.

Frowning, he knelt and ran his fingers along the edges of the wooden planks. One felt looser than the others.

Using a screwdriver, he pried it up carefully. Beneath the floorboard was a small, dust-covered box.

Inside, he found a diary.

The handwriting was unmistakably Clara’s, neat and deliberate. Aidan flipped through the pages, his heart pounding.

The first few entries were innocuous, detailing her work at the Cross estate. But as he read on, the tone shifted.

“Today, he noticed me,” one entry read. “William Cross, the heir to the estate. He smiled at me like I was the only person in the room.”

Aidan’s breath hitched as he continued. The entries painted a picture of a forbidden romance, filled with stolen moments and whispered promises.

But then came the darker passages.

“His family found out,” another entry read. “They threatened me. Said I had to leave or they’d ruin me. William tried to fight them, but they wouldn’t listen. They said I wasn’t good enough for him.”

The final entry was dated the day she left the estate.

“I told him about the baby,” it read. “He looked at me with so much pain. He said he loved me, but he couldn’t defy his family. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.”

Aidan closed the diary, his hands trembling.

The next morning, Clara found him sitting at the kitchen table, the diary in front of him.

“You found it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Aidan asked, his voice breaking.

Clara sat down across from him, her face etched with grief. “Because I didn’t want you to hate him. Or me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Aidan said. “But I need to know what happened. All of it.”

Clara sighed deeply. “William loved me, Aidan. But his family... they were cruel. They told me I wasn’t worthy of him. When I told him I was pregnant, he begged me to stay. But his father made it clear—if I stayed, they’d destroy us both.”

“So you left,” Aidan said bitterly.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Clara said, her voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Did he ever try to find you?”

Clara shook her head. “Not that I know of. His father had too much power. He probably made sure William couldn’t.”

Aidan leaned back, his mind swirling with emotions.

“I need to find him,” he said finally.

“No,” Clara said sharply. “You don’t understand the kind of people you’re dealing with.”

“I don’t care,” Aidan said. “I need answers.”

Clara’s face crumpled, but she didn’t argue further.