Chapter 16 - THE THIRD HEIR

By sunrise, the name Lucas Vale was everywhere — on warrants, on alerts, in every briefing room. Police learned fast: Lucas had grown up in seclusion, homeschooled by his mother, visited only by Julian’s letters from prison. He had never held a job, never appeared in public records, never spoken to anyone outside his small, isolated world. Julian had written to him every week — filling his head with the same lies, the same hatred, the same burning mission: Reclaim what is ours. Destroy Margaret Holloway. Leave nothing standing.

That evening, the courtroom fell silent as Margaret walked in. Bruised, weary, but upright. She gave Arthur’s final testimony — the name, the motive, the threat. The judge ordered Rachel and Marcus held under tighter guard; police stood at every exit, rifles visible.

Midway through the proceedings, a gunshot cracked through the building.

Panic erupted. Screams. Shouting. People scrambling for cover. Margaret stood, David stepping instantly in front of her, as officers rushed toward the corridor leading to holding cells. Minutes later, a breathless officer returned — pale, shaken.

— Rachel is safe. Marcus is unharmed. Someone fired through the holding-room window from outside. And… a note was left taped to the glass.

The officer handed it forward. Margaret unfolded it. The handwriting matched Julian’s perfectly — bold, sharp, unyielding:

ONE DOWN. THE REST ARE NEXT. SURRENDER WHAT IS MINE… OR WATCH EVERYONE YOU LOVE FALL.

Margaret handed the note to David. Her expression did not change.

— He is bold, she said. And impatient. He will not wait for the trial to end. He will strike again — soon — and closer.

That night, they returned to the estate. Guards patrolled every wall, every gate, every shadow. Lights blazed from the house to the fence line. Margaret stood in the study, tracing Arthur’s name in her mind, when Clara rushed in.

— The safe! Someone tampered with the lock. Nothing is gone… but someone was here.

Margaret went cold. She walked to the safe. The lock had been picked — clean, practiced, silent.

— He was inside, Margaret said quietly. While we were at court. He came for the will. For the photographs. For every proof we hold.

David gripped the doorframe. — He was in this house. Walking these halls.

— Yes. And he left something behind. Margaret pointed to the shelf beside the safe. Resting exactly where Julian’s journals had once stood was a single black book — leather-bound, embossed with the same silver crest Julian had used. She opened it. On the first page, in the same hand:

I AM COMING TO CLAIM MY BIRTHRIGHT. AND THIS TIME… NO ONE WILL BETRAY ME.

Margaret closed the book. She looked at David, then at Clara.

— Lucas is not just following orders. He believes he is righteous. He believes this house, this name, this fortune — all of it belongs to him. And he will kill anyone who stands in his path.

— Then we must draw him out, David said. We must make him believe he is winning. Lure him into the open. Where we can end this.

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Margaret looked at the portrait of her husband. At the strong, steady face that had watched over them through every storm.

— Arthur gave us his name, she said. Now we give him a reason to come. Tomorrow, in open court, I will speak Lucas’s name aloud. I will tell the full story — Julian’s hidden son, his mission, his threats. And then… we wait.