3. A PLACE AT BLACKWOOD MANOR
1898 Words
Ethan woke before sunrise.
For a moment, he lay completely still, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling.
Then he remembered where he was.
Blackwood Manor.
The thought still felt strange.
He had spent most of his life worrying about whether there would be enough food for dinner, whether the electricity would remain on, and whether his mother would return home in a good mood.
Now he was sleeping in a room larger than the entire place he had once called home.
Yet despite the enormous bed and expensive furniture, Ethan didn't feel comfortable.
He missed the sound of the old apartment.
He missed the small kitchen.
He even missed the noisy pipes that used to make strange sounds at night.
Most of all, he missed his mother.
Ethan sat up.
His eyes moved toward the bedside table.
The photograph was still there.
He picked it up.
"Good morning, Mum," he whispered.
He immediately felt foolish.
She couldn't hear him.
Still, he put the photograph back carefully.
A few minutes later, someone knocked.
"Ethan?"
It was Mrs. Bennett.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Blackwood would like you downstairs when you're ready."
"Okay."
She opened the door slightly.
"Your school uniform is hanging in the wardrobe."
Ethan looked toward the wardrobe.
"School?"
"Of course."
Ethan hadn't expected that.
"I thought I couldn't go."
"Mr. Blackwood has already spoken with the school."
Ethan's eyes widened.
"Already?"
Mrs. Bennett smiled.
"Mr. Blackwood is rather efficient."
She closed the door.
Ethan opened the wardrobe.
Inside were several new uniforms.
He touched one of the jackets.
It was completely new.
He had never owned a new school uniform before.
Usually, his mother bought second-hand clothes from charity shops.
He put the uniform on.
When he looked into the mirror, he barely recognized himself.
He looked like a different boy.
A boy who belonged in a place like Blackwood Manor.
But Ethan knew better.
He was still the boy who had been left at a bus station.
Downstairs, Alexander was waiting.
"Morning."
"Good morning, sir."
Alexander frowned.
"Sir?"
Ethan looked confused.
"Shouldn't I call you that?"
Alexander smiled.
"You can call me Alexander."
Ethan hesitated.
"Okay... Alexander."
"Much better."
They entered the dining room.
Breakfast was already prepared.
Richard was sitting at the table.
He looked at Ethan's new uniform.
"So you're going to my school?"
Ethan stopped.
"I think so."
Richard looked at his father.
"You didn't tell me."
"I didn't think I needed permission."
Richard rolled his eyes.
"That's not what I meant."
Alexander sat down.
"Richard, Ethan is eleven. He needs to continue his education."
"I know."
"Then what's the problem?"
Richard looked at Ethan.
"Everyone is going to ask who he is."
"Then tell them."
Richard laughed.
"And what am I supposed to say?"
Alexander calmly spread butter across his toast.
"Tell them the truth."
Richard looked irritated.
"Which truth?"
Alexander looked directly at him.
"That Ethan is staying with us."
Richard pushed his chair back.
"Fine."
He stood.
"I'll see you at school."
Ethan watched him leave.
Alexander sighed.
"Don't take Richard personally."
"I don't."
"You do."
Ethan looked down at his breakfast.
"He's right, though."
"About what?"
"People will ask."
Alexander nodded.
"They will."
"Are you going to tell them why I'm here?"
Alexander paused.
"Only what you want people to know."
Ethan looked surprised.
"Why?"
"Because your story belongs to you."
Ethan didn't know how to respond.
Nobody had ever said something like that to him.
At school, things were exactly as difficult as Richard had predicted.
The moment Ethan entered the building, students began whispering.
"Who's that?"
"He's new."
"That's Richard Blackwood."
"Who's the kid with him?"
Ethan kept his eyes down.
Richard walked ahead.
Ethan followed.
A teacher approached.
"Richard."
"Morning, Mr. Collins."
"Who's your friend?"
Richard glanced at Ethan.
"This is Ethan Carter."
The teacher smiled.
"Welcome, Ethan."
"Thank you."
"Your mother or father has completed all the necessary paperwork."
Ethan's expression changed.
"My... father?"
The teacher corrected himself quickly.
"Your guardian."
Ethan nodded.
"Okay."
Richard noticed the reaction.
He said nothing.
During lunch, Ethan sat alone.
He wasn't used to the cafeteria.
At his old school, he had known everyone.
Here, students seemed to belong to different groups.
The wealthy children sat together.
The athletes sat together.
The academic students had their own table.
Ethan didn't know where he belonged.
He opened his lunch.
Someone sat opposite him.
A boy with blond hair.
"You're Ethan, right?"
"Yes."
"I'm Daniel Hayes."
Ethan nodded.
"Nice to meet you."
Daniel smiled.
"You're the new Blackwood kid."
Ethan frowned.
"I'm not a Blackwood."
Daniel shrugged.
"That's what everyone is saying."
Ethan looked down.
"I don't know why."
Daniel leaned closer.
"Are you living at Blackwood Manor?"
Ethan hesitated.
"Yes."
Daniel's eyes widened.
"Seriously?"
Ethan nodded.
"What's it like?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I've only been there one night."
Daniel laughed.
"Right."
He opened his lunch.
"So why are you there?"
Ethan became uncomfortable.
"My mum is... away."
Daniel's smile disappeared.
"Oh."
"She'll come back."
Daniel didn't argue.
"Okay."
They continued eating.
For the first time that day, Ethan felt slightly less alone.
After school, Alexander's driver collected him.
When Ethan returned to Blackwood Manor, he found Alexander in the library.
Alexander looked up from a stack of papers.
"How was school?"
"Good."
"Just good?"
Ethan smiled faintly.
"Daniel talked to me."
"That's good."
"Richard didn't."
Alexander smiled.
"That isn't surprising."
Ethan sat on one of the chairs.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why are you helping me?"
Alexander was silent.
He had been expecting that question.
"I told you last night."
"I know."
"But you don't believe me."
Ethan shook his head.
Alexander stood and walked toward the window.
"When I was young, someone helped me."
"Who?"
"My father."
Ethan waited.
"He wasn't always a good man," Alexander continued. "But when I needed him, he was there."
Alexander looked at Ethan.
"I remember what it feels like to be afraid and have nobody to turn to."
Ethan nodded.
"So you understand?"
"More than you think."
A comfortable silence followed.
Then Ethan noticed the papers on the desk.
"What are those?"
"Nothing you need to worry about."
Ethan looked at him.
"Is it about my mum?"
Alexander hesitated.
"Partly."
"Did you find her?"
"Not yet."
Ethan looked disappointed.
"But we're looking."
"Okay."
Alexander picked up another document.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"I need to ask you about your father."
Ethan's expression became blank.
"I don't know him."
"Do you remember his name?"
Ethan thought.
"Mum used to call him James."
Alexander's eyes narrowed.
"James what?"
"I don't know."
"Do you remember anything else?"
Ethan shook his head.
"He left when I was little."
Alexander nodded slowly.
"Did your mother ever talk about him?"
"Sometimes."
"What did she say?"
"She said he was dangerous."
Alexander became still.
"Dangerous?"
Ethan nodded.
"But she never told me why."
Alexander looked toward the papers.
There was something he hadn't told Ethan.
The investigator had found the name James Carter in an old Blackwood business record.
It shouldn't have been there.
James Carter had worked for Blackwood Holdings nearly twelve years earlier.
Then he disappeared.
Alexander had remembered the name immediately.
But he didn't yet know whether it was the same man.
And he wasn't prepared to frighten Ethan with possibilities.
That evening, Alexander called his investigator.
"Tell me everything about James Carter."
"We've found employment records."
"How long did he work for us?"
"Three years."
"Position?"
"Financial analyst."
Alexander frowned.
"Why don't I remember him?"
"You were overseas during most of his employment."
"How did he leave?"
"According to company records, he resigned."
"Was there an investigation?"
A pause.
"Yes."
Alexander's expression changed.
"Into what?"
"Financial discrepancies."
Alexander stood.
"How much?"
"Approximately twelve million pounds."
Silence.
Alexander's jaw tightened.
"Are you telling me James Carter stole twelve million pounds?"
"We can't confirm that."
"Why?"
"Because the investigation was never completed."
"Why not?"
"Because James Carter disappeared."
Alexander slowly sat down.
"Disappeared?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Twelve years ago."
Alexander looked at the file in front of him.
Twelve years.
Ethan was eleven.
The timing was impossible to ignore.
"Find him."
"We're trying."
"No. I want everything. Bank records. Addresses. Associates. Family connections."
"Understood."
Alexander ended the call.
He remained in the study for several minutes.
Then someone knocked.
"Come in."
It was Charlotte Blackwood.
His wife entered.
She looked concerned.
"You've been hiding something."
Alexander looked at her.
"I haven't."
"Alexander."
He sighed.
"What?"
"Who is that boy?"
"Ethan?"
"Yes."
"He needs somewhere to stay."
Charlotte sat down.
"You've brought him into our home, enrolled him in our school, bought him clothes, and now you're having private investigators look into his family."
Alexander remained silent.
Charlotte studied him.
"What did you find?"
"I don't know yet."
"Then tell me what you suspect."
Alexander finally opened the folder.
"His father's name may be James Carter."
Charlotte's face changed.
"The James Carter?"
Alexander nodded.
Charlotte looked toward the door.
"That's impossible."
"I know."
"What are the chances?"
"Very small."
"And if it's true?"
Alexander closed the folder.
"Then Ethan may be connected to something that happened to this family years ago."
Charlotte stared at him.
"Do you think he was brought here deliberately?"
Alexander shook his head.
"I don't know."
"But you think there is a reason."
"Yes."
Upstairs, Ethan sat on the edge of his bed.
He was reading one of the books Alexander had given him.
He tried to concentrate.
But his thoughts kept returning to his mother.
He picked up his phone.
There were no new messages.
He stared at her number.
His thumb hovered over the call button.
Then he pressed it.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
Ethan lowered the phone.
He whispered, "Please, Mum."
A tear rolled down his cheek.
He wiped it away quickly.
Then the phone suddenly vibrated.
Ethan's heart jumped.
A message.
His mother's name appeared on the screen.
His hands began shaking.
He opened it.
Ethan, don't trust the man you're staying with.
Ethan stared at the words.
A second message arrived.
You don't know who Alexander Blackwood really is.
Ethan stood.
His heart was pounding.
He looked toward the bedroom door.
Then toward the hallway.
For the first time since arriving at Blackwood Manor, Ethan felt afraid.
Not because he had been abandoned.
Not because he was alone.
But because his mother had just warned him about the man who had saved him.
Downstairs, Alexander stood beside his study window.
His phone rang.
He answered.
"Yes?"
His investigator spoke.
"We found something."
Alexander's expression became serious.
"What?"
"We located an old photograph."
"Of James Carter?"
"No."
A pause.
"Of James Carter with Margaret."
Alexander's eyes narrowed.
"And?"
"There's someone else in the photograph."
"Who?"
The investigator took a breath.
"Your late brother, Edward Blackwood."
Alexander froze.
His brother had died twelve years earlier.
And suddenly, the mystery surrounding Ethan Carter had become much bigger than anyone had imagined.
Alexander slowly looked toward the ceiling.
Ethan was upstairs.
The boy he had rescued from the rain.
The boy who might now be connected to a secret his family had buried for more than a decade.
And Alexander knew one thing with absolute certainty.
He could no longer treat Ethan's arrival as a simple act of kindness.
Someone had hidden the truth.
And sooner or later, that truth was going to come looking for them.
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