Chapter 191
Chapter 191
"Charlotte."
William's voice echoed down into the empty basement, carrying that distinctive reverberation of concrete walls.
"Do you know why I never objected to Charles marrying you?"
Charlotte stood at the bottom of the stairs, flashlight hanging at her side.
William took a step forward onto the first step. "Because someone has to pay back the debt your father owed the Edward family."
Charlotte's fingers spasmed. Her thumb slid across the switch, and the flashlight went out. The basement fell into semi-darkness, the only light source seeping in from the hallway at the top of the stairs, cutting William's silhouette into half light, half shadow.
"What debt did my father owe the Edward family?"
Charlotte's voice squeezed out from the bottom of her throat.
William didn't answer right away. He stood on the first step, left hand against the wall. His nails were neatly trimmed, age spots on his knuckles.
"Your father's name was Hayden Seymour. Oasis University, biometric identification major, class of '97."
His speech was slow, like he was reading from a case file he knew by heart.
"The year he graduated, your father joined the Edward Group research institute as an assistant researcher. His mentor was the Edward Group's chief scientist, Asher Holden. Asher had him do three years of basic research. The core project was a biometric identification algorithm framework based on human genetic polymorphism."
Charlotte's nails dug into her palms.
"In the fourth year, your father left the Edward Group, taking all of Asher's team's research data with him. Six months later, he filed for a patent under his own name."
William took another step down.
"The technical foundation of that patent was the result of three years of research funded by the Edward family—their people, their money, their equipment. Your father stole it and used it to start his own company."
The air in the basement was dry and cold. Charlotte's back pressed against the metal casing of the server, the chill seeping from her spine all the way to her stomach. She knew these words weren't completely baseless lies—there were dates, names, a logical chain. Every detail was like a nail, precisely driven into the blind spots she couldn't verify.
She had never seen Hayden's work history, never read Hayden's research notes. Her entire impression of Hayden stopped before age three—that tall man who would lift her over his head and spin her around. Charlotte could only remember the scent of laundry detergent on his shirt. These memories were so thin they couldn't even piece together a resume.
"And then what?"
"Then the Edward Group filed a report. Your father was investigated. But he moved the company registration overseas, and the investigation went nowhere."
William's voice remained steady. "After that—"
He paused for a second. "Your father had an accident."
The words felt weightless coming from an old man's mouth.
"What accident?"
"A fire."
Charlotte's pupils contracted. The fire Harper had broken out in front of the TV. Michael's crooked writing in the notebook: "Mom and Dad were burned to death."
"You mean—" Charlotte's voice changed. "That fire was set by the Edward family?"
William neither denied nor confirmed. He just stood there, looking down at Charlotte.
Charlotte's palms were ice cold, and her nails had already broken through the skin. Two voices were fighting in her head. If Hayden really did steal the Edward family's technology, if that fire really was...
"Grandfather."
Charles stood in the hallway. She didn't know when he'd followed them. His shirt collar was open, the wound on his left shoulder making him lean slightly to the right. His face showed no expression. But he came down the stairs quickly, taking two steps at a time, going around William to stand in front of Charlotte, blocking her from William.
"Did you make up these words yourself, or did 'Chessboard' teach you to say them?"
The temperature in the basement dropped again.
William's eyebrow twitched. The movement was subtle, but Charlotte saw it—the skin at the outer corner of his eye tightened by less than a millimeter. It must have been triggered by "Chessboard."
"What are you talking about?" William's voice didn't change.
"I'm saying every word you just spoke was designed."
Charles pulled out his phone and lit up the screen. On it was an encrypted message from Marcus, with an attachment of high-resolution scanned documents.
"Hayden's biometric identification patent application date was December 18, 1996."
Charles turned the phone toward William.
"The Edward Group research institute's biometric identification project approval date was March 1999. Hayden's patent application was two years and three months earlier than the Edward Group's project. How can someone 'steal' from a project that didn't even exist yet?"
The basement was silent for four seconds.
William's gaze moved from the phone screen to Charles. They locked eyes. This stare was completely different from the one at the dinner table—no courtesy, no probing prelude. Both their eyes held a similar sharp, cold, hard edge of calculated game theory.
Charlotte stood behind Charles. Her hands had stopped shaking. She was using all her strength to control her muscles, every finger and every muscle fiber in her arms stretched to the limit.
Charles continued.
"Asher was the Edward Group research institute's chief scientist. Joined in 1999, dismissed internally in 2001 for academic fraud."
He put his phone away.
"Asher's fraud involved plagiarizing a former colleague's research and falsely reporting it as an Edward Group internal project. That former colleague was named Hayden Seymour."
William lifted his hand from the wall, he folded both hands in front of him.
"It was the Edward family who copied the Seymour family's technology." Charles took a step forward. "And every word you just told her was reversed."
His voice dropped. "What are you afraid of?" he asked.
The corner of William's mouth twitched.
"Charles." His voice was half a tone deeper than before. "You've been looking into things you shouldn't."
"I've been looking into facts."
"Facts." William repeated.
"The fact is, your company, your technology, everything you have was given to you by this family. You're using the Edward family's resources to dig into the Edward family's secrets. What do you call that?"
Charles didn't back down. "I call it damage control."
William stared at him for ten seconds. Then he turned and walked up the stairs. Each step was steady. When he reached the fourth step, he paused but didn't turn around.
"You won't find it."
After saying this, he continued upward. Footsteps echoed from the hallway, growing fainter. The sound of the front door opening and closing. An engine starting. Tires crunching over gravel.
The Edward Mansion returned to silence.
Charlotte stood in place. She looked down at her hands. The pin was still pinched between her right thumb and index finger. Her palm had four crescent-shaped blood marks from her nails.
Charles turned to face her.
Charlotte's lips moved twice. She wanted to say "I'm fine." But those three words stuck in her throat, unable to come out.
"Let's go." Charles stepped aside, clearing the way to the stairs.
Charlotte followed him up. They walked through the empty hallway past the dining room—the four dishes had gone cold under the lights, the beef stew's broth congealed into a gel-like layer. Orval was gone too. The entire Edward Mansion was empty.
The SUV was parked in the lot. Wayne sat in the driver's seat. Charlotte got in the back seat. Charles got in from the other side. The moment the door closed, all outside sounds were cut off, leaving only the faint hum of the air conditioning vents.
Wayne started the engine. The car drove out through the Edward Mansion's iron gates.
Charlotte stared at the leather grain on the front seat headrest.
"What if what he said was true." Her voice was so low that Wayne's rearview mirror couldn't catch her lips moving. "What if my father really..."
She didn't finish her sentence.
A manila envelope landed on her lap.