Chapter 13 - Who Built the Wall
Julian looked at his father.
“You said Grandfather did it.”
“He ordered it.”
“That is not what the letter says.”
Charles sat in the west library.
Everyone waited.
Finally:
“I helped.”
Mara closed her eyes.
Anna did not move.
Charles continued.
“My father told me Elena was being moved for the night.”
“You bricked the door?”
“Part of it.”
Julian felt sick.
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
“So she could leave.”
“Yes.”
“Then why the scratches?”
Charles swallowed.
“Because my father closed the trapdoor first.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
“I didn’t know.”
“When did you find out?”
“The next morning.”
Julian stared.
“Elena spent the night locked in there.”
“Yes.”
Charles’ voice broke.
“She clawed at the wall.”
Mara looked away.
Anna’s face hardened.
“What did you do?”
“I tore open the trapdoor.”
“And?”
“She was gone.”
“Where?”
Julian stood.
“Yes.”
The word landed.
Not excuse.
Not softening.
Truth.
Anna said, “My mother said that night changed her.”
Charles cried quietly.
“She should not have.”
“No.”
Julian walked to the painted wall.
The portrait now felt different.
Not a puzzle.
A record.
He looked at Mara.
“You were right.”
She said nothing.
“I laughed at you.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mara looked at him.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
Julian nodded.
Fair.
Anna opened another folder.
Inside were copies of Arthur Mercer’s private letters.
One ordered a contractor to seal “service access fourteen.”
Rebecca exhaled.
Arthur was dead.
But history was not.
Then Anna handed Julian one last paper.
A deed transfer.
Arthur had secretly moved forty acres of Mercer land into a shell company the week Elena disappeared.
Buyer:
Julian frowned.
Anna said:
“It did on paper.”
Mara understood first.
“My aunt owned land?”
Anna shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
May you like
Anna looked at Charles.
“Lucia.”
