Shadows of the Estate

I escorted Sophia back to the servants' quarters, ensuring Elina was occupied in the pantry before slipping away toward the main house. The sprawling estate was a fortress of limestone, security cameras, and armed patrols, all managed by Dominic, my security chief and the closest thing I had to a brother in this brutal world. Dominic intercepted me halfway down the grand marble corridor of the West Wing, his sharp eyes instantly narrowing as he caught sight of my expression. ""Boss,"" Dominic said, stepping into my path with quiet urgency. ""You’ve been gone forty minutes with the housekeeper’s kid. The cargo shipment from Marseille just cleared customs, and the council wants confirmation on the dock assignments.""

""Let the council wait,"" I said coldly, bypassing him and heading straight for my private study. Dominic followed, shutting the heavy oak door behind us with a definitive click. ""Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. I need you to run a background check on someone, but I want it done off the books. No digital traces through our usual syndicate networks."" Dominic crossed his arms, his posture stiffening as he registered the gravity in my tone. ""Who are we looking into?""

""Not a living criminal,"" I replied, pulling the shoebox from beneath my coat and placing it heavily on the polished mahogany desk. ""I want every historical record, financial ledger, and personal correspondence connected to an estate employee or associate named Marcus from thirty-one years ago."" Dominic stared at the box, recognizing the aged cardboard immediately as something that predated our current security infrastructure. ""Where did you get that?"" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. ""It was buried on the grounds,"" I answered, sliding the letter across the desk toward him. ""My mother wrote it.""

Dominic’s eyes scanned the ink, his face draining of color as he took in the name and the date. He knew as well as anyone the mythology my father had built around my mother’s tragic demise, a story that had legitimized our family’s dominance in the underworld through shared public sympathy. ""Boss, if this letter is genuine..."" Dominic began, his voice trailing off as he realized the catastrophic fallout. ""It means my father lied to me about everything,"" I finished for him, the bitter irony of my syndicate’s obsession with absolute loyalty burning in my throat. ""Dig into the old county archives, property deeds, and payroll records from before the estate was remodeled. Someone here helped her, or someone here silenced her."" Dominic picked up the photograph of the mysterious boy, studying the young face with a grim nod. ""I'll start with the physical ledgers in the basement vault. The digital sweeps won't reach back that far anyway.""