Chapter 12 - The Ghost of the HighlandsForty-eight hours later, a private charter jet touched down on the misty, rain-swept tarmac of an isolated airfield in the Scottish Highlands.
The air was biting and sharp, carrying the scent of damp pine and ancient earth. A sleek black Land Rover, arranged by Arthur’s overseas contacts, waited on the runway. Julian, Sarah, and Arthur piled into the vehicle, with a security detail following closely behind in a second truck.
As they drove deeper into the winding, fog-draped mountain passes, the landscape grew wilder and more desolate. Massive stone ruins gave way to towering cliffs that overlooked a dark, churning loch.
"According to the Edinburgh municipal archive records we accessed on the flight over," Julian said, tapping away at his tablet, "the estate is called Blackwood Manor. And according to these property lines, it isn't just an old house—it's an autonomous legal trust."
"And who is currently listed as the legal custodian of that trust?" Sarah asked, nursing little Leo in the back seat as the vehicle rattled over a stone bridge.
Julian’s fingers paused on the screen. His breath hitched.
"It hasn't been updated since 1985," Julian whispered. "The primary custodian was... my biological mother, before she mysteriously disappeared when I was an infant."
The car fell dead silent. Even the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers seemed deafening.
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Arthur’s knuckles tightened slightly on the passenger seat handle. "The master never spoke of her disappearance, sir. He always claimed she passed away from an illness while traveling abroad."
"Lies," Julian said, his jaw tightening. "Everything in this family was built on a foundation of buried secrets."
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