The grandfather clock in the East Wing struck 3:00 AM. The house was asleep–or pretending to be. Malcolm Fotheringham moved through the shadows of the hallway, bypassing the security cameras with a knowledge of the blind spots that should have been impossible for a stranger.
He stopped in front of the heavy oak door of the Family Archive–Lady Beatrice’s domain, a room forbidden to everyone but the matriarch. Malcolm didn’t pick the lock; he pulled a small, brass key from his pocket that he had lifted from Beatrice’s vanity earlier that day.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and old secrets. Malcolm walked straight to the file cabinet marked *1992*. He flipped past the financial ledgers until he found a thick, sealed envelope. The wax seal bore the Croft crest, but it had been broken decades ago and resealed with tape.
He opened it. Inside was a birth certificate.
*William Arthur Croft. Born 11:42 PM.*
Behind it was a second certificate, marked with a red stamp: *DISCARDED / ADOPTION PROTOCOL.*
*Subject B. Born 11:45 PM.*
Malcolm stared at the paper. He didn’t smile. He didn’t cry. He simply traced the name “Subject B” with his gloved finger. The “Seed” had officially confirmed the soil from which he grew. He was the spare heir, cast aside to keep the line clean, and now he held the proof that could burn the dynasty to the ground.