"I didn't mean it."
"Just heed my advice. Marion's sweet-talk game is stronger than you think. The news must have covered both kidnapping cases. Figure out why those three are hiding it from you."
Drake went back to his room, leaving Debra outside.
Her mind was a mess. She couldn't understand why even Marion chose not to tell her the truth.
Footsteps creaked upstairs. Debra looked up to see Ivan descending.
Her eyes narrowed. "I told you not to clean the second floor and above. What were you doing up there?"
Ivan stammered, "I'm sorry. Someone mentioned the attic hadn't been cleaned in years. I wanted to help."
"Attic?"
"The one on the third floor. It's locked, so I came down."
Debra's pulse quickened as she realized the mastermind was feeding her clues through Ivan.
She played dumb. "Alright. Remember, don't come up here again without my permission."
"Yes, Mrs. Houston." Ivan retreated.
Barton entered, holding an old key. "Sir, the attic key."
Andrew took it, the metal cold in his palm. "Some things shouldn't remain."
He turned to the window and unclenched his fist. The key slipped from his fingers, vanishing into the garden below.
The attic held his most precious mementos. Yet his face stayed blank, the pain locked deeper than any vault.
Barton froze, unsure of what to say.
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