Chapter 6 The Woman in the White Tower
Chapter 6
The Woman in the White Tower
The words on the screen refused to disappear.
COME TO THE WHITE TOWER ALONE.
If you want your sister alive.
No one spoke.
The only sound inside the library was the steady ticking of the antique grandfather clock.
Alexander stared at the message.
His mind rejected it instantly.
His sister?
No.
His aunt, Princess Eleanor.
The woman the world had declared dead twenty-six years ago.
Michael broke the silence.
"It's a trap."
Alexander nodded slowly.
"I know."
"You can't go."
"I have to."
Father Benedict stepped closer, his weathered face unusually pale.
"If Eleanor is truly alive..."
He paused.
"...then someone has kept her hidden for more than two decades."
Alexander looked at him.
"Who would do that?"
The old priest whispered,
"Someone who needed her alive."
A Prison Better Than Death
Michael immediately ordered the cyber-security team to trace the source of the hacked message.
Within minutes...
A young analyst hurried into the library.
"We found something."
Everyone turned.
"The signal bounced through seventeen different countries."
Alexander sighed.
"So it's untraceable."
The analyst hesitated.
"Not completely."
"There was one mistake."
"What mistake?"
"The final transmission originated..."
He enlarged a satellite image.
"...less than three kilometers from Hawthorne Estates."
The room fell silent.
General Victor Hawthorne again.
Every trail led back to him.
That night, Alexander stood alone on the balcony overlooking Sterling Manor.
The rain had stopped.
Moonlight reflected across the gardens where he and Eleanor had once played as children.
He could still hear her laughter.
She had been fearless.
Always climbing trees.
Always sneaking pastries from the royal kitchen.
Always protecting him whenever he got into trouble.
She was twelve years older than him.
But she never acted like royalty around him.
She acted like family.
Then...
One night...
She vanished.
The palace announced an accident.
The funeral lasted three days.
No coffin was ever opened.
Alexander had accepted it.
He had been only ten.
Now he realized...
There had never been a body.
Behind him came tiny footsteps.
Lily.
Still wearing oversized pajamas provided by the house staff.
She carried something in both hands.
Alexander smiled gently.
"Couldn't sleep?"
She shook her head.
"I had a dream."
"What about?"
"My mommy."
Alexander knelt beside her.
"What happened?"
"She was singing."
"Do you remember the song?"
Lily nodded.
Very softly...
She began humming.
Only a few notes.
Alexander's smile disappeared.
His eyes widened.
That melody.
It wasn't an ordinary lullaby.
It was The Song of White Roses.
A royal lullaby composed nearly a century earlier.
Only members of the Sterling family knew it.
He finished the final verse from memory.
Lily looked surprised.
"You know it."
"So did your mother."
She opened her small hand.
Inside lay the eleventh silver hairpin.
"My mommy said..."
"If anything happened..."
"I should never let all of them stay together."
Alexander frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"There are secret places."
She carefully pressed one side of the hairpin.
Click.
A tiny compartment opened inside.
Hidden within it...
A tightly rolled strip of paper.
Alexander carefully removed it.
It contained only a single sentence.
The tower guards the truth. The bell guards the door.
Michael immediately photographed it.
"A hidden entrance."
Father Benedict whispered.
"The abbey had a bell tower."
The Journey
Before sunrise...
Alexander made his decision.
Against everyone's objections...
He would go.
But not truly alone.
Michael prepared an invisible security perimeter nearly two kilometers away.
Drones would monitor from high altitude.
Snipers would remain hidden in the surrounding hills.
No one would enter unless Alexander gave the signal.
Father Benedict handed him a small wooden cross.
"Eleanor gave this to me the night she fled."
Alexander accepted it.
"I'll bring her home."
The priest closed his eyes.
"I've prayed for those words for twenty-six years."
Hawthorne Estates
By afternoon...
Alexander arrived at Hawthorne Estates.
The vineyard stretched endlessly across rolling hills.
Rows of grapevines shimmered beneath the summer sun.
Nothing suggested the land concealed centuries of secrets.
At the center stood an elegant stone mansion.
And behind it...
An abandoned bell tower.
Half-covered by ivy.
Alexander stopped walking.
The tower.
White stone.
Weathered by time.
Hidden from public roads.
Thomas Reed had been right.
The White Tower had never been inside the palace.
It had been hidden here all along.
An elderly caretaker appeared.
He wore simple work clothes and carried pruning shears.
"You must be Mr. Sterling."
Alexander remained cautious.
"I was invited."
The caretaker nodded.
"Follow me."
They walked silently between endless rows of vines.
Finally...
They reached the old bell tower.
Up close...
Its ancient stones bore faint carvings nearly erased by time.
Alexander touched one.
A crown.
Two lions.
The Sterling crest.
Hidden beneath layers of moss.
The caretaker spoke quietly.
"Your family built this place nearly four hundred years ago."
Alexander frowned.
"My family sold this land decades ago."
The old man smiled sadly.
"No."
"They believed they did."
He reached beneath the rusted bell.
Pulled an iron lever.
Deep underground...
A loud grinding sound echoed.
Stone shifted.
The earth trembled.
A circular staircase slowly emerged beneath the tower floor.
Cold air rose from the darkness below.
Alexander looked down.
The caretaker stepped aside.
"She's waiting."
Beneath the Tower
Torchlights flickered along ancient stone walls.
The staircase spiraled deep beneath the vineyard.
The air smelled of damp earth and history.
At the bottom...
A single wooden door stood open.
Alexander walked inside.
The chamber was surprisingly beautiful.
Old royal banners lined the walls.
Bookshelves filled with handwritten journals stretched from floor to ceiling.
Fresh flowers rested beside a fireplace.
Someone lived here.
A woman stood with her back toward him.
Her long dark hair was streaked with silver.
She wore a plain white dress.
Her hands trembled slightly as she looked into the fire.
Alexander could barely breathe.
"Eleanor..."
The woman froze.
Very slowly...
She turned around.
Tears immediately filled Alexander's eyes.
Time had left its marks.
But he recognized her instantly.
The same gentle eyes.
The same warm smile.
The same tiny scar above her left eyebrow from falling out of a cherry tree when she was fifteen.
"Eleanor..."
His voice broke.
The woman smiled through tears.
"Hello, little Alex."
The nickname.
No one had called him that since childhood.
Alexander crossed the room in two hurried steps.
He embraced her tightly.
Neither of them spoke.
Twenty-six years of grief dissolved into silence.
Finally...
Alexander whispered,
"I thought you were dead."
She rested her forehead against his.
"I wanted you to."
He pulled back in shock.
"What?"
Eleanor's smile faded.
"If they knew I was alive..."
"They would never have stopped hunting Amelia."
Alexander stared at her.
"You've been hiding here all these years?"
She slowly nodded.
"I wasn't hiding."
Her expression grew painfully serious.
"I was imprisoned."
Alexander felt the room tilt beneath him.
"By who?"
Before Eleanor could answer...
A slow clap echoed through the chamber.
One.
Two.
Three.
A man's deep voice emerged from the shadows.
"What a touching reunion."
Alexander turned.
An elderly gentleman stepped into the torchlight wearing an immaculate black suit.
His silver hair was perfectly combed.
In his right hand...
He casually spun the twelfth silver hairpin between his fingers.
He smiled.
"Welcome home, Alexander."
Then he slipped the hairpin into his pocket.
"My name..."
He paused.
"...is Victor Hawthorne."
May you like
The architect of the conspiracy had finally stepped out of the shadows.
End of Chapter 6
