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Christopher gestured into his pocket and discarded folded pieces of paper onto the bench. He unfolded them one by one, splaying them across the sky-blue cushion. His head tilted to summon me. A crisp, earthy scent parted his faint lignin aroma once I stood closer.

“I discovered it during my early reading sessions.” His gaze lowered to the four small notes, most of which I recognized.

Except for the one to his right.

They all shared the same writings, including the similar shades of blue ink that smeared across the pale sheets.

“Where did you find this?”

“In my study,” Christopher stated.

“You didn’t see who left it?”

Christopher shook his head. “I visited Mother’s grave right before my session.”

“Youvisited Mother’s grave?”

The mausoleum had loomed in the cemetery long before we were a thought. After our mother’s desolate burial, I was the only one who visited, sometimes alongside Raphael, when her death was still anew. Recently, his hesitation refrained him from visiting.

I believed my brothers had forgone visitations, too, due to unresolved emotions, everlasting disbelief, or both.

“I may harbor my own faults, but I never forgot her,” he said. “But this will be a matter to discuss some other time, Alek.”

Dejection shot through me but quickly subdued as our attention dropped to the notes. “What are we trying to uncover?”

“A hint,” he noted. “In a span of weeks and right before a grand event, we’ve obtained four different sets of notes— all of which must pertain to each other.”

“How?”

“The writing, for one, is the greatest indicator,” Christopher said, and his tone lowered. “Though there’s a slight difference in sizing on half of them.”

“They seem to have been written on the same type of material, too.” I leveled the newest and oldest one.

“Yet, two hold messages that contradict each other.” Christopher snatched the one I had stumbled upon in my chambers and placed it beside the recent addition. We had yet to unfold the puzzle scrawled before us, but now, more was added to the muddled assortment.

“These oppose each other,” I said as I pointed at the oldest and newest notes, “then what about the other pair?”

“One led to the other,” he emphasized. “All placed within differing ends of the household and timeframes.”

My chest tightened. “The puzzle within the children’s books was from our mother. The other three have been strategically placed for us to find.”

Christopher released a heavy sigh, “There’s no denying it was recent, too. Someone on these grounds knows what we’re devising.”

“Tristan can investigate this,” I mentioned, but Christopher immediately shook his head with a stern refusal.

“There is too much at hand currently. What’s been set in stone can’t be interfered with,” he said and hid the notes in his pocket.

I settled into the stillness that followed his words. A sudden idea struck me.

“The first and latest notes were found here,” I said, my tone probing, “which means they had access to your study. The only other person to have the key is That Man.” My tongue dried at the mention, the very thought igniting a fire across my veins. Considering if it truly was him behind such occurrences, it leads to an endless chasm of questions with no guidance.

“Though it’s a slight likelihood, That Man hasn’t meddled in our affairs for the past five years.” He paced toward the stairs, my feet falling behind. “We’ll revisit this at a later time.”

He settled on his desk and brought his glasses to the bridge of his nose. A blank semblance emerged onto his expression. “Have you thought about your alternative plan to take down Kaleb?”

“Not yet.” Though I couldn’t admit it, my rendezvous with Katerina suspended such a ploy.

“I suggest you get to it,” he said, his tone shifting as a knock echoed behind me.