Chapter 99 Secrets Beneath the Floorboards
The townhouse had fallen into a strained silence once the last of the lamps were lit and the doors were secured with every lock they could find. Rain still clung to the windowpanes, making the streetlamps outside blur into yellow smudges. Inside, the air held a tired heaviness. Everyone moved with the stiffness of people who had lived through too much in too little time.
Cassandra stayed near the sitting room doorway, steadying herself with one hand against the frame. Her bandage pressed against her side beneath her blouse, the crossbow graze from the cove still aching with each breath. She did not want anyone fussing over her, but Damian insisted that she stop moving. He hovered nearby, arms crossed, jaw tight, his body angled in a way that shielded her from the rest of the room without even realizing it.
Elias sat at the dining table with Harlan and Rowan, sorting the papers they had managed to save during their escape. Lira lay on the sofa, still pale from the attack earlier, one arm draped over her eyes as she tried to steady her breathing. The rescued child slept in a small nest of blankets near Rowan’s feet, her quiet breaths a faint comfort in the crowded room.
Theo stood near the staircase, clutching the wooden banister as if unsure where to put himself. He watched the adults with wide eyes, taking in every word and gesture. The boy had stopped shaking after they left the cove, but something in him remained tightly coiled, like a wire pulled to the breaking point.
Damian’s voice broke the quiet first.
“We cannot stay still,” he said. “Victoria will reach the capital within a day. She will spread her story before we can spread ours.”
Cassandra shifted her weight and met his eyes. “We also cannot run on shattered energy. We need a few hours to think clearly. The wrong move now would finish us faster than she could.”
Elias looked up from the papers. “Ruben is delivering copies of the documents to trusted allies. But it is not enough. The clans are unstable. Some might side with Victoria simply because her story is louder.”
Lira moved her arm and spoke without rising. “Because she knows how to use the press. She supplies scandals the papers devour. If she controls the next headline, nothing we say will reach the towns before she twists it.”
Cassandra’s hand tightened on the doorframe. She understood too well what a crafted story could do. Her own life had been shaped by rumors, some planted, some grown from society’s hunger for gossip. Victoria was exploiting that machine with precision.
Damian stepped forward. “We push our evidence before she pushes hers. We deliver the ledgers to the press ourselves.”
Lira shook her head. “Not yet. The ledgers show the schemes, but they don’t link Victoria directly to her banker. That gap gives her room to deny everything. We need more.”
Cassandra nodded. “The last thing we can afford is a half-truth that cracks under scrutiny.”
The conversation drifted into strategies, arguments, and uncertainties. Theo listened for a while, but the exhaustion from the long night finally overcame his curiosity. He slipped away from the group, his steps quiet on the wooden floor as he walked toward the far corner of the townhouse.
The townhouse’s age showed in its uneven floors, cracked molding, and peeling wallpaper. The ally from Parliament who lent it to them had warned that the place had been vacant for years, left to gather dust and drafts. Yet it felt safer than the open world outside, even if the roof groaned each time the wind pressed against it.
Theo wandered into a narrow hallway near the kitchen. A loose board creaked under his foot. He stepped back, then down again, testing the sound. Something rattled beneath the floor, faint but unmistakable.
He crouched and pressed his ear to the wood.
There it was again.
A dull clink, like metal shifting.
Curiosity sparked in him. After all the lies, betrayals and hidden chambers they had found over the past weeks, a suspicious sound beneath old floorboards did not feel strange. It felt almost expected.
Theo pressed along the edge of the board and felt movement. Part of it gave under his fingers.
“Mr. Cross?” he called softly, unsure if he should interrupt.
But no one heard. The voices in the sitting room grew louder as another argument built.
Theo wedged his fingers beneath the board and lifted. It groaned but came free. Beneath it lay a shallow space filled with dust and old cobwebs. He coughed, waving a hand to clear the air.
Then he stilled.
Inside the hollow sat a wrapped bundle tied with string.
He hesitated, glancing back toward the others. No one had noticed he was missing. Carefully, he lifted the bundle and placed it on the hallway floor. His heart thudded with the sharp excitement of discovery.
He untied the string. The cloth opened to reveal several letters, all sealed with wax.
Not ordinary letters.
Each bore the same crest that had marked some of the ledgers they seized earlier: the emblem of the banker who funded Victoria’s operations.
Theo stared at them, unsure what to do. But he knew these were important. He gathered them in his arms and hurried back to the sitting room.
He stopped at the threshold, suddenly aware of how small he was in the crowded room. But Cassandra noticed him at once. She lifted her head, offering him a soft, tired smile.
“What do you have there?” she asked.
Theo stepped forward and set the letters on the table.
“I found them beneath the floorboards,” he said quietly. “They were hidden.”
Elias rose from his chair, his brows lifting in shock. “Hidden letters? Here?”
Damian crossed the room in seconds, his hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Good work,” he said with quiet approval.
Cassandra moved slowly due to her wound, but her curiosity pulled her forward. She leaned over the table as Damian broke the seal on the first letter.
The script inside was elegant, careful, and unmistakably familiar.
“It is Victoria’s handwriting,” Cassandra murmured.
Damian’s hands tightened on the paper. “Read it,” Elias said.
Damian cleared his throat and read aloud.
“‘To Mr. Whittaker,
The funds must remain untraceable. The inheritance adjustments will be ready once the Ministry’s clerk finalizes the forged signatures. Ensure discretion. If Cassandra Vale discovers the truth about her family’s lost holdings, our agreements will unravel.’”
A thick silence settled over the room.
Cassandra felt the floor tilt beneath her feet. Her hands pressed against the table to steady herself.
Her family’s lost holdings.
Her lost inheritance.
Records she had chased for years. Documents she had been told were destroyed or misfiled. The very foundation of Victoria’s power over her.
Damian looked at her, his eyes filled with anger on her behalf. “This proves everything. Whittaker was her banker. He financed the entire scheme.”
Elias opened the second letter and read it aloud.
“‘When the auction concludes, the remaining heirs must be silenced. Do not hesitate to use leverage against the families who resist. The press will follow my narrative, not theirs.’”
Lira sat up straighter on the sofa. “This is the link we needed. This ties the banker to the Ministry, the forgeries, the auctions… all of it.”
Cassandra sank into a chair, pressing a hand to her forehead. “And if we publish this, it will destroy her.”
Damian nodded. “It will destroy her entire network.”
But Cassandra did not answer right away. She stared at the letters, feeling the weight of her pulse in her injured side.
Rowan noticed her hesitation. “What troubles you?”
She lifted the letters.
“If these go to the press now, they will tear Victoria apart. But they will also reveal what she did to my family. Every detail. My father. My lost inheritance. My mother’s protected secrets. The scandal would stain us all, including our allies.”
Lira lowered her gaze. She knew too well the damage a misplaced story could cause.
Damian stepped closer. “Your reputation does not matter compared to ending her.”
Cassandra looked up sharply. “It matters if it destroys the people standing with us. If this becomes another public spectacle, the towns might turn their anger on us instead of her.”
Elias leaned forward. “Then we must choose our timing carefully. These letters are our strongest weapon. But if we use them too early, they will be used against us.”
Theo watched all of them, confusion and worry clouding his face. “Did I do something wrong by bringing them?”
Cassandra rose despite her injury and knelt beside him, one hand resting gently on his shoulder. “You did something brave and good. You helped us find a truth that was meant to stay hidden.”
Theo nodded, though the tension in his shoulders eased only a little.
Damian lifted the remaining letters. “If there are more secrets in this house, we need to find them before Victoria arrives.”
Elias stood. “I will check the rest of the floorboards.”
Harlan joined him. “I will look near the kitchen. Old houses often hide more than dust.”
Lira leaned back, rubbing her temples. “If these letters were hidden here, then someone before us knew the townhouse might become a battleground.”
Cassandra returned to her chair with slow steps. She looked around the room at her weary, ragged allies. They had faced deception, corruption, and violence. Now they faced something more delicate: the politics of truth.
Damian placed a warm hand over Cassandra’s.
“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.
She stared at the sealed letters, their wax glinting in the lamplight.
“That Victoria believes she can shape every story,” she said. “She thinks the world listens only to power.”
Her voice softened.
“But she forgets that people listen to courage too.”
She lifted the final letter, her fingers steady despite the tension gripping her.
“We will decide how to use these. On our terms.”
Outside, the wind shifted. The rain eased. Journalists still gathered near the front steps, their notebooks ready, their ink eager for scandal.
Inside the House of Glass, the first real crack had been found, and Cassandra intended to use it with precision.
The discovery beneath the floorboards had given them a new weapon. But when and how to wield it would shape the battles to come.