No one moved after Dominic read the carving. The wrong child inherited the truth. The words seemed to echo through the underground chamber. Rose was the first to speak. “What does that even mean?”
No one had an answer. Harriet knelt beside the table and examined the carving more closely. She noticed it wasn’t scratched in haste. It was carved slowly and deliberately, by someone who expected it to remain hidden for decades. I couldn’t stop staring at the sentence. I had the strange feeling it wasn’t meant for everyone. It was meant for me.
Harriet suggested we stop looking for evidence of money or contracts. Instead, we began searching for references to births, children, guardianship, inheritance, and family lineage. The archive suddenly felt different. Not like a legal repository. Like a
