Chapter 3 - THE CODE IN THE LINING
The Sterling Manor sat on a high cliff overlooking the mist-shrouded valley, an imposing stone mansion surrounded by wrought-iron gates. Once filled with music and laughter during my childhood, it had become a quiet, echoing tomb after my sister vanished, my mother died of heartbreak, and my father succumbed to his bitterness.
I brought Leo through the servant's entrance to avoid the prying eyes of the senior butler, who was loyal to Marcus. I took the boy directly to my private quarters on the third floor—a spacious suite connected to a sunroom.
My personal maid, Clara—a loyal girl I had known since childhood—gasp at the sight of the dirty, barefoot child sitting on my velvet sofa.
"Fetch warm water, clean towels, and food," I ordered Clara softly, setting a plate of roasted chicken and bread before the boy. "And Clara... tell no one he is here. Not even Marcus's men."
Clara nodded solemnly, sensing the gravity in my tone, and hurried out to fulfill the orders.
While Leo ravenously devoured the food—eating as though he hadn't seen a proper meal in weeks—I sat at my writing desk, examining the silver hair clip under the bright light of a desk lamp.
The clip was made of silver-plated brass, bent at one corner where Elena had dropped it on the marble stairs years ago. But as I turned it over, noticing the faint scratches on the back plate, something caught my eye.
The pale stones set into the metal weren't diamonds or quartz; they were cheap crystal pastes. However, the brass backing plate was slightly loose.
Carefully, using a small silver letter opener from my drawer, I pried at the edge of the metal backing. With a tiny click, the backplate popped open, revealing a tiny compartment inside the hollow silver body.
Inside lay a tightly rolled sliver of waterproof parchment, no thicker than a toothpick.
My hands shook as I used a pair of tweezers to pull it out and unroll it on the mahogany desk. Written in faded blue ink—in the unmistakable, elegant slant of my sister Elena's handwriting—were three lines of numbers and letters:
44.2091 - 12.1104
ST. JUDE - CELL 09
TRUST NO ONE WITH THE GOLDEN SEAL
I stared at the slip of paper, my heart hammering against my ribs.
44.2091 - 12.1104 were geographic coordinates. St. Jude was the abandoned 18th-century monastery located in the dense pine forest six miles north of our estate—a place local legends claimed was haunted and structural unstable.
And The Golden Seal...
I turned my head toward the corner of my room, where my father’s oak safe stood. On its front was the embossed emblem of the Sterling Family Trust—a dragon wrapped around a golden seal.
The very trust that Marcus Sterling currently controlled.
"Auntie Julianna?"
I turned quickly. Leo had finished his food and was standing by the desk, his face clean now, though his large dark eyes were filled with an uncanny wisdom far beyond his years.
"What did you call me?" I asked, my breath catching.
"Auntie," he repeated softly. "Mom told me that if I felt scared, I should look at your hands. She said you have the same crescent-shaped scar on your left thumb from when you two were picking blackberries as girls."
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I looked down at my left thumb—at the tiny white crescent mark I had carried since I was seven years old. No one in the world knew that story except Elena and me.
I fell to my knees and pulled Leo into a tight embrace. He smelled of soap now, but underneath was the faint, lingering scent of pine needles and damp earth.
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"Where is she, Leo?" I wept silently into his neck. "Why didn't she come to me herself?"
Leo pressed his small face against my shoulder. "Because the men who hurt Uncle Arthur are searching for us. Mom said if they find out she’s alive, they will finish what they started twelve years ago."
