Chapter 10 - The Secret Beneath the Throne
Alexander returned to the palace that evening.
Not as a prince attending another royal ceremony.
Not as a son seeking his mother's approval.
He returned through the eastern service tunnel wearing ordinary clothes and carrying a small black case.
Inside were his father's recordings.
Gabriel accompanied him.
Judge Mercer remained at the safe house with Isabelle and Henry.
Sarah stayed to supervise Isabelle's medical care.
Victoria had already agreed to meet investigators appointed by the judge.
Everything now depended on whether Eleanor had told the truth.
The throne room was dark.
Moonlight spilled across its enormous stained-glass windows.
Alexander crossed the polished floor toward the raised platform.
His father's throne stood beside the smaller chair traditionally reserved for the consort.
Alexander had sat on that throne hundreds of times.
He had never wondered what lay beneath it.
Gabriel knelt beside the platform.
“Edward had this room restored after the foundation investigation began.”
Alexander frowned.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“Why?”
“He said the old wiring needed replacing.”
Gabriel ran his hand along the edge of the platform.
“There.”
A narrow brass fitting protruded from the wood.
Alexander leaned closer.
“It's a lock.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Do you still have the key Adrian gave you?”
Alexander reached into his pocket.
The small metal key.
The same one that opened Blackthorn's third gate.
He inserted it.
The mechanism turned.
A section of the wooden platform rose.
Beneath it was a steel compartment.
Alexander stared.
Inside were three sealed envelopes, a hard drive, and a small leather-bound journal.
He lifted the journal first.
His father's handwriting filled the pages.
Dates.
Names.
Private meetings.
Medical records.
And one sentence underlined twice.
Harrow must never be permitted to control the royal medical office.
Gabriel opened the first envelope.
Banking records.
The second contained internal memoranda linking Ashbourne financial subsidiaries to Blackthorn.
The third was addressed to Alexander.
He unfolded it.
My son,
If you are reading this, you have found what I failed to expose.
Do not mistake my silence for innocence.
I knew Isabelle was alive.
I knew my wife was being manipulated.
And I knew Harrow had created a criminal operation under the authority of this family.
But I feared that exposing it would bring down the crown.
I was wrong.
Alexander paused.
His hands were shaking.
He continued.
There is no honor in a crown preserved by the suffering of a mother and child.
The day I learned Isabelle had given birth to your son, I intended to tell you.
Harrow threatened to make them disappear permanently.
I believed I could rescue them through the courts without risking their lives.
I never succeeded.
Forgive me if you can.
But do not excuse me.
Alexander lowered the letter.
Gabriel watched him.
“Your father wanted the truth found.”
Alexander shook his head.
“He also helped bury it.”
“Yes.”
“That matters.”
Gabriel nodded.
“It does.”
Alexander placed the letter carefully back into its envelope.
Then he opened the hard drive.
A directory appeared.
The files were dated.
Some went back decades.
One folder carried a name he hadn't expected.
MARGARET — PERSONAL CORRESPONDENCE.
Alexander hesitated.
Gabriel noticed.
“You don't have to open that now.”
Alexander stared at the folder.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“She watched me mourn Isabelle.”
Gabriel said nothing.
Alexander opened it.
The first message was eleven years old.
Margaret had written to Harrow after Isabelle's disappearance.
You assured me she would be protected and released once the investigation was complete.
A second message followed.
Why has she not been permitted to leave?
Then another.
Edward must not learn that her confinement has been extended.
Alexander leaned closer.
Three months later, the tone changed.
I understand the consequences of disclosure.
However, the girl must receive proper medical care.
Another message.
Under no circumstances is the child to be harmed.
Alexander stopped.
The child.
His mother had known about Henry from the beginning.
He opened a later message.
You cannot continue using my grandson as leverage.
Alexander closed his eyes.
There it was.
A confession.
Not of every crime.
But of knowledge.
Of silence.
Of eleven years during which Margaret had chosen not to tell her son he had a child.
Gabriel looked toward the doorway.
“We need to leave.”
Alexander shook his head.
“Not yet.”
He opened the final folder.
EDWARD — MEDICAL REVIEW.
Inside were hospital reports.
A timeline of his father's last twenty-four hours.
And a video from a corridor security camera.
Alexander clicked it.
The footage showed a private hospital hallway.
A nurse approached the king's room carrying a medication tray.
A man followed.
Alexander leaned closer.
The man turned toward the camera.
Edmund Harrow.
Alexander felt sick.
Harrow spoke to the nurse.
She nodded.
Then entered Edward's room.
The video ended six minutes later.
Gabriel stared.
“That places Harrow there.”
Alexander nodded.
“But not proof of what he ordered.”
Then another file appeared.
An audio recording.
The nurse's voice.
“I was told the new dose had been approved.”
A man answered.
“It has.”
“By the attending physician?”
“By the royal household.”
Alexander recognized Harrow's voice.
The nurse continued.
“The patient's blood pressure is already unstable.”
Harrow replied.
“The order stands.”
Gabriel exhaled slowly.
Alexander stared at the screen.
His father had been right.
The medical office had been used against him.
Then the throne room lights came on.
Both men turned.
Margaret stood at the entrance.
Behind her were four guards.
She looked at the open compartment.
Then at Alexander.
Her expression crumpled.
“You found it.”
Alexander rose.
“Yes.”
Margaret looked toward the journal.
“Edward kept everything.”
“He did.”
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, she looked very old.
Then Alexander asked the question he had been holding since the wedding.
“Did you know they were using Henry to control me?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Not at first.”
“When did you learn?”
Her lips trembled.
Alexander waited.
“When he was born.”
The answer struck him like a physical blow.
“Ten years.”
She looked down.
“Alexander—”
“Ten years, Mother.”
“I was trying to protect—”
“Don't.”
He stepped closer.
“Don't tell me you were protecting me.”
Margaret began crying.
“I thought the situation could be resolved.”
“By leaving my son in a locked hospital?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of Harrow?”
She nodded.
“Of the scandal?”
“Yes.”
“Of losing your position?”
Her silence answered.
Alexander looked at her for a long time.
Then he said quietly, “You taught me that a king must accept responsibility.”
Margaret wiped her face.
“I know.”
“Then accept yours.”
He turned toward Gabriel.
“Take the evidence.”
Margaret reached for him.
“Alexander.”
He stopped.
She whispered, “There's something your father never knew.”
Alexander slowly turned.
“What?”
Margaret looked toward the guards.
Then lowered her voice.
“The night Edward died, Harrow wasn't alone.”
Alexander went still.
“Who was with him?”
Margaret's eyes filled with terror.
She looked toward the open door.
And whispered, “The royal physician.”
A voice spoke from the corridor.
“Your Majesty.”
Margaret flinched.
A tall man in a dark suit entered.
Dr. Jonathan Price.
The physician who had treated King Edward.
The man who had signed his death certificate.
He looked at the open compartment.
Then smiled faintly.
“I see the family has finally found its missing papers.”
Alexander stared at him.
May you like
Price glanced toward Margaret.
“You should have left well enough alone.”
