The Last Name He Stole

BENEATH THE KINGSTON ESTATE

Maya couldn't take her eyes off the photograph.

The man's face had been scratched away so violently that the paper was almost torn through.

But the words on the back were still clear.

HE IS THE REASON SHE DIED.

Her mother's death had always been a painful subject in Maya's life.

She had been told it was an illness.

A tragic illness that had taken her mother far too soon.

There had been no suspicious circumstances.

No mysterious visitor.

No hidden conspiracy.

At least, that was what Maya had believed.

Now, standing inside a secret room beneath the Kingston Estate, she wasn't sure what was real anymore.

"Who is he?" she whispered.

Adrian didn't answer.

He was staring at the photograph as though it had personally betrayed him.

James looked equally shaken.

Maya turned toward him.

"You said you knew about this."

James swallowed.

"I knew there was a room beneath the west wing."

"That's not what I asked."

"I didn't know about the photograph."

"But you knew there was another level."

James nodded.

"Yes."

"How long?"

"Fifteen years."

Maya's expression hardened.

"And you never thought to tell Adrian?"

James looked at Adrian.

"I was instructed not to."

"By whom?"

James hesitated.

"Your father."

Adrian's jaw tightened.

"My father is dead."

"His instructions weren't."

The words silenced everyone.

Maya looked toward the staircase.

The passage descended into darkness.

A faint light flickered somewhere below.

"What is down there?"

James didn't answer.

Adrian stepped toward the stairs.

"We're going to find out."

James immediately grabbed his arm.

"Sir, I don't think that's wise."

Adrian looked at him.

"Someone has been using this passage."

"Exactly."

"And they may still be here."

"That's what concerns me."

Adrian glanced at Maya.

"You stay here."

"No."

"Maya."

"I'm coming."

"This isn't a discussion."

"It became a discussion the moment my mother's photograph appeared."

Adrian stared at her.

She didn't back down.

Finally, he sighed.

"Fine. Stay close."

Maya nodded.

James followed them.

Together, they descended.

---

The staircase seemed endless.

The walls were made of old stone, unlike the polished interior of the mansion above.

Dust covered the steps, but there were fresh footprints in it.

Maya noticed them immediately.

"Someone has been here."

Adrian nodded.

"I see them."

The footprints were small.

One set.

Leading downward.

Maya felt a strange uneasiness.

They reached the bottom.

A long corridor stretched ahead of them.

Old lamps lined the walls.

Most were broken.

At the end stood a heavy metal door.

There was no handle.

Only a small keypad.

Adrian approached it.

"What is the code?"

James looked uncomfortable.

"I don't know."

Maya stepped closer.

There were four numbers etched into the metal.

0718.

July 18th.

She touched the keypad.

Adrian caught her wrist.

"Wait."

She looked at him.

"The date keeps appearing everywhere."

"I know."

"So let's see what it opens."

He released her.

Maya entered the numbers.

0- 7- 1- 8.

The lock clicked.

The door opened.

A cold draft swept over them.

Maya stepped inside.

Then stopped.

Her mouth fell open.

The room wasn't a storage area.

It was an archive.

Hundreds of boxes filled the shelves.

Documents covered the tables.

Photographs hung on the walls.

And in the center of the room was a large wooden desk.

On it sat a single blue folder.

Maya immediately recognized the symbol on its cover.

The same crown from the ledger.

She walked toward it.

Adrian followed.

James stayed near the entrance.

"Don't touch anything until we know what we're dealing with," he warned.

Maya ignored him.

She opened the folder.

The first document was a birth certificate.

She read the name.

Her eyes widened.

ETHAN VALE.

Mother:

Evelyn Brooks.

Maya's hands began to shake.

She looked at Adrian.

"That's my mother's name."

He nodded slowly.

She turned the page.

Father:

Unknown.

Maya stared.

"Why is his father listed as unknown?"

Adrian took the document.

"Because someone didn't want the father's name recorded."

"Who?"

James answered quietly.

"Your mother's employer."

Maya looked at him.

"Your father?"

James nodded.

Maya's heart raced.

"Why would Adrian's father care about Ethan?"

James didn't respond.

Instead, Maya opened another file.

This one contained medical records.

Ethan had been admitted to a private Kingston hospital as a child.

His name had been changed.

Ethan Brooks.

Then later:

Ethan Vale.

Maya frowned.

"Why did his name keep changing?"

Adrian examined the records.

"Because someone was hiding him."

"From whom?"

"Everyone."

She looked through another document.

A photograph fell out.

Maya picked it up.

It showed her mother holding a little boy.

Ethan.

But there was something else in the background.

A younger Adrian stood several feet away.

Maya's heart tightened.

She turned the photograph over.

There was handwriting on the back.

He knows.

Maya looked at Adrian.

"You knew Ethan."

"I didn't know he was my brother."

"But you knew him."

Adrian nodded.

"I remember him."

"How?"

"I thought he was one of the family's staff children."

Maya's eyebrows drew together.

"He was your brother."

"I didn't know that."

"What happened to him?"

Adrian looked down.

"My father sent him away."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

Maya's frustration grew.

"Everybody keeps saying they don't know."

She slammed the photograph onto the desk.

"My mother knew. Your father knew. James knew. You knew him. Alexander knew him."

She looked around the room.

"And somehow I'm the last person to find out that my entire childhood was built on a lie."

Adrian stepped closer.

"Maya."

"Don't."

She turned away.

"I'm sorry."

"No."

He paused.

"You don't have to apologize."

"I do."

Maya looked at him.

"For the first time, I'm beginning to understand what my life was like before I could remember it."

He lowered his voice.

"I wish I could change it."

"You can't."

"I know."

"But you can tell me the truth now."

Adrian nodded.

"I will."

---

James suddenly moved toward the shelves.

"Wait."

Maya turned.

"What?"

He pulled out a dusty black box.

"There may be something here."

He placed it on the desk.

The box had no lock.

Inside were several letters.

The first was addressed to Adrian's father.

The second to Alexander.

The third had Maya's mother's name.

Maya picked it up.

Her hands trembled.

She opened it.

The handwriting was unmistakably her mother's.

If you are reading this, then everything has already gone wrong.

I tried to protect them. I tried to protect all of them. But there are things even I couldn't control.

Ethan was never meant to be part of the Kingston family.

Alexander discovered the truth.

Adrian was blamed for what happened.

And Maya...

The letter stopped.

Maya's heart raced.

The next page was missing.

"No."

She searched the box.

Nothing.

"The rest is gone."

Adrian took the letter.

He examined the torn edge.

"It was deliberately removed."

Maya looked at James.

"Who would have access to this?"

James hesitated.

"Very few people."

"Name them."

"Your mother."

"She's dead."

"Your father."

"He's dead too."

"Mr. Kingston."

Maya looked at Adrian.

"Anyone else?"

James was silent.

"James."

He finally answered.

"Alexander."

Maya's eyes widened.

"Alexander could have taken the rest of the letter."

"Yes."

"Then why did he leave the ledger?"

James looked thoughtful.

"Maybe the ledger wasn't meant to give you answers."

"What was it meant to do?"

"Lead you here."

Silence.

Maya looked around the archive.

A realization settled over her.

"Alexander wanted me to find this room."

Adrian nodded.

"Which means he knows what's inside."

"Then why doesn't he just tell me?"

"Because he's hiding from someone."

Maya looked at the photograph again.

The scratched-out man.

"Who?"

Before Adrian could answer, a sound came from behind the shelves.

A faint metallic click.

Everyone froze.

James reached for the flashlight on his belt.

"Someone's here."

Adrian immediately moved Maya behind him.

They waited.

Nothing.

Then—

Footsteps.

Slow.

Measured.

Coming from the far side of the archive.

Adrian whispered:

"Stay here."

He moved toward the sound.

Maya followed anyway.

They reached the final row of shelves.

Nothing.

Then Maya noticed something.

One of the shelves was slightly open.

"Adrian."

He pushed it.

The shelf swung inward.

Behind it was another passage.

Maya stared.

"Another one?"

Adrian looked annoyed.

"Apparently this family liked secrets."

Despite everything, Maya almost smiled.

They entered the passage.

It was much narrower than the first.

After a short distance, they reached another room.

This one was completely different.

There were no documents.

No shelves.

Only a chair.

And a single lamp.

Someone had been sitting there recently.

A cup of tea was still warm on the small table.

Maya's eyes widened.

"Someone was here."

Adrian looked around.

Then he noticed something on the chair.

A black coat.

He picked it up.

Inside the pocket was a photograph.

He pulled it out.

His expression changed.

Maya took the photograph from him.

It was Alexander.

Standing beside an older man.

The same man whose face had been scratched from the photograph they'd found earlier.

But this time his face was visible.

Maya stared.

She didn't recognize him.

Adrian did.

His voice was barely audible.

"That's him."

"Who?"

"My uncle."

Maya frowned.

"Your father's brother?"

Adrian nodded.

"I thought he died."

"When?"

"July 18th."

Maya's blood ran cold.

"Fifteen years ago?"

"Yes."

She looked at the photograph.

Then at Adrian.

"Then why is he standing beside Alexander?"

Adrian didn't answer.

A sound came from behind them.

The door slammed shut.

Maya spun around.

Locked.

"Adrian."

He tried the handle.

Nothing.

"Move back."

He stepped away and tried forcing the door.

It didn't move.

Maya's breathing quickened.

"Are we trapped?"

"Not for long."

He examined the walls.

"There's got to be another exit."

Maya looked around.

Then she noticed something carved into the wall.

A small crown.

Underneath it were four words.

The truth has two faces.

She touched the carving.

A section of the wall shifted.

A hidden compartment opened.

Inside was a small recording device.

Maya picked it up.

The device automatically turned on.

A man's voice filled the room.

Old.

Tired.

But unmistakably familiar.

Maya froze.

It was her mother's voice.

"If Maya ever finds this, then I have failed to keep her away from the Kingston family."

Maya's eyes filled with tears.

"Maya, if you're listening, I'm sorry."

The recording continued.

"There are two boys at the center of this secret. Alexander and Ethan."

Maya looked at Adrian.

"But there's another person whose identity was stolen."

Adrian's expression changed.

"And the person is the reason I can no longer trust the Kingston family."

The recording crackled.

Then her mother said something that made Maya's blood run cold.

"Adrian is not the person you think he is."

The recording stopped.

Silence.

Maya stared at Adrian.

He stared back.

Neither spoke.

Then the device played one final sentence.

A sentence Maya's mother had apparently recorded separately.

"If you ever meet the person calling himself Adrian Kingston, ask him one question."

The recording paused.

Then:

"Where is the real Adrian?"

Maya's heart stopped.

The room suddenly felt unbearably cold.

She slowly stepped away from him.

"Adrian..."

He didn't move.

"Where is the real Adrian?"

His face was completely unreadable.

"Maya, listen to me."

"No."

"I can explain."

"Then explain."

"I am Adrian."

"Then why did my mother say there was a real Adrian?"

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Maya's eyes filled with confusion and fear.

Then the door behind them unlocked.

It swung open.

Alexander stood on the other side.

His face was serious.

"Now you understand why I came back."

Maya stared at him.

"Where is Adrian?"

Alexander looked directly at the man beside her.

Then he said quietly:

"That's the question we've been trying to answer for fifteen years."