Chapter 5
Chapter 5: The Boy Who Ran Again
Mason Whitmore had always loved an audience.
He loved people watching him win.
He loved people watching others lose.
He loved laughter when he caused it, silence when he demanded it, attention when he fed on it.
But he did not like being chased.
The moment he ran, the entire gallery turned against him.
Security moved.
A detective shouted.
Celeste screamed his name.
Mason shoved past a waiter, knocked over a tray of champagne, and sprinted toward the service corridor behind the gallery.
Eli moved before thinking.
“Eli!” his mother shouted.
He ran after Mason.
Not because he wanted revenge.
Not because he thought he was brave.
Because he had seen Mason’s face when that phone buzzed.
Fear.
Real fear.
And Eli knew something then.
Mason was not in control.
Someone else was.
The service corridor was narrow and white, lined with crates, folded tables, and metal shelves. Mason’s shoes slapped against the floor ahead of him.
“Mason!” Eli shouted. “Stop!”
Mason glanced back.
His face was twisted.
“You don’t get it!”
“Then tell me!”
Mason rounded a corner and slammed into a locked delivery door.
He cursed, yanking the handle.
Eli slowed several feet away.
Behind him, distant footsteps thundered closer.
Mason spun around.
His phone was still in his hand.
His whole body shook.
“You think I wanted this?” Mason snapped.
Eli stared at him.
“Yes.”
Mason’s face cracked.
For one second, he looked sixteen.
Not rich.
Not cruel.
Just trapped.
“My mom said if we could prove your sculpture wasn’t legally authenticated, the judgment could reopen. My dad could get the house back. The partners might come back. Everything could go back.”
Eli’s voice was cold.
“Back to what? You hurting people and everyone pretending not to see?”
Mason looked away.
The phone buzzed again.
Eli saw the message flash across the screen.
Bring the phone. No police. Your mother knows what happens if you fail.
Eli’s anger shifted into something else.
“Who is texting you?”
Mason swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“They sent pictures.”
“What pictures?”
Mason’s eyes filled with panic.
“My dad.”
Eli went still.
Mason’s voice broke.
“He owes people money. Bad people. After the lawsuit, after the banks, after everything collapsed, he borrowed from someone. My mom said she could fix it if we helped them make the Ashford case look dirty.”
Eli heard footsteps nearing the corridor.
He lifted a hand behind him, signaling them to slow down.
The detective appeared at the far corner but stopped when he saw Eli’s gesture.
Eli looked back at Mason.
“Did you steal the stone face?”
Mason shook his head violently.
“No. I swear. I was supposed to create a distraction. My mom gave the speech. That was it. Someone else opened the case remotely.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Eli stepped closer.
“Mason, who has the stone?”
Mason’s mouth opened.
Then a red dot appeared on his chest.
Eli’s breath stopped.
“Mason,” he whispered. “Get down.”
Mason frowned.
“What?”
Eli lunged.
The sound came sharp and small.
Not a gunshot like in movies.
More like a hard crack through the service hall.
A small black device on the wall behind Mason shattered.
The red dot vanished.
Security tackled them both to the floor.
People screamed from the gallery.
Mason lay beneath Eli, shaking.
“What was that?” he gasped.
The detective rushed forward, weapon drawn.
“Remote pellet round. Camera or tracker.”
Eli looked at the shattered device.
Someone had not tried to shoot Mason.
They had tried to destroy what was watching him.
The phone.
Mason’s phone was still in his hand.
Eli grabbed it before Mason could move.
The latest message was still on the screen.
Too late.
Then a video appeared.
It played automatically.
Richard Whitmore sat in a dark room, bruised, tied to a chair, his face gray with terror.
Celeste screamed from behind them as she reached the corridor.
Mason began to sob.
On the video, Richard lifted his head.
“They want the Bellamy archive,” he whispered. “Not the money. The archive.”
A distorted voice behind the camera said, “Tell them whose name is in Mara’s final ledger.”
Richard’s eyes filled with horror.
“I can’t.”
The screen went black.
Then one final message appeared.
The stone face was only the key.
Eli slowly looked up.
Ruth Bellamy had reached the corridor now.
Her expression had gone completely white.
Eli stood, holding the phone.
“What is Mara’s final ledger?”
Ruth did not answer.
Theodore appeared behind her, breathing hard, leaning on his cane.
Eli looked from Ruth to Theodore.
Both of them looked terrified.
Not of Mason.
Not of Celeste.
Of the question.
Finally, Ruth whispered, “It was a list.”
Eli’s voice was barely audible.
“A list of what?”
Ruth looked toward the gallery, toward the preserved sculpture, toward the empty place where the child’s face had been.
“A list of children,” she said. “Children Mara believed had been taken from poor families and placed in wealthy homes under false adoptions.”
The hallway went silent.
Eli felt the world tilt.
Theodore lowered his head.
Ruth’s voice broke.
“Mara wasn’t only making art out of discarded things. She was investigating discarded people.”
Mason stared at Eli.
Eli looked down at the phone again.
May you like
Another message arrived.
Ask Elijah why his mother really left Ashford House
