Although the popularity of the display had temporarily calmed Downtown, the underlying pressure never completely went away. Katherine saw small clues: older people glaring at her as if she had committed murder, muttering that died down as she got close, and new graffiti on the exterior walls of the estate: "Let the dead rest, don't dig up the corpse that has been buried long ago."
Though Katherine's intuition told her it was only residual animosity, Lucien rejected it. She had been practicing reading between the lines for years, and she could feel the uneasiness in the room.
When Eliza Morrison appeared to the estate one foggy early morning, she was holding a frayed journal in her hands, her face pallid. Her voice was hardly audible above whispering when she said, "I discovered something." With her eyes darting around as though she was afraid of being overheard, she gave Katherine the journal.
Take a look at the 1950s deals. A family named *Vaughn* purchased land tracts from the Beaulieu estate for a small portion of their actual value. The Saboteur's ancestors were the Vaughns.
As Katherine turned the fragile documents, her heartbeat accelerated. The journal described a century of backroom transactions that guaranteed the Vaughns' ascent to prominence as Downtown's "first family," including political favours, loan forgiveness, and scandals that were kept quiet.
Thomas Vaughn, the Saboteur, was left with a history of participation in addition to money. The Vaughns had been the Beaulieus' covert accomplices, making money off of the estate's abuse while putting on a show of respectability.
With a finger running over the Vaughn crest stamped on the papers, Lucien whispered, "He's been guarding his family's reputation." Despite the low volume of his voice, it was clear that he was angry. "This will certainly destroy him if we reveal this information to the public."
With her thoughts racing, Katherine agreed. Although the ledger was a smoking pistol, it had two sides. In addition to implicating Thomas, disclosing the Vaughns' participation would cause the hamlet as a whole to reignite ancient scars. Whether the truth was worth the price was the question.
A huge explosion broke the quiet that night as Katherine and Lucien rummaged through the ledger in their study. They hurried to the window in time to witness the boom of flames and a brick flying through the glass entrance of the display. The estate's east wing was on fire, and the grounds were glowing uncannily as greasy smoke billowed from broken windows.
"No!" Lucien held Katherine's forearm as she shouted and lunged for the exit.
"It's too risky!" he yelled above the roaring fire. "We must get assistance!"
Villagers organised a bucket brigade to carry water from the well to the fire, but centuries of investigation were consumed by the flames, turning the chapel's letters, Celeste's necklace, and Emmaline's journal to ash. Katherine was horrified to see the display she had put so much effort into engulfed by the flames.
Thomas Vaughn, his stooped silhouette lighted by the flame's light up, was a figure that lurked at the tree line amid the confusion. When Lucien first saw him, he sprang forward, but before he could get to Thomas, he disappeared into the woods.
Lucien tightened his hands and hissed, "He caused this." "He's attempting to hide the reality."
Looking at the smouldering remains, Katherine's heartbeat raced. Although it was an extremely damaging blow, the fire also proved that they were nearby. It's too close for Thomas to overlook.
One fateful morning a letter was sent to Lucian and Katherine.
The grudge against Thomas Vaughn became personal. "Meet me at Blackridge Cliffs," read the note that was delivered at daybreak and placed beneath the entrance door of the mansion. Come by yourself, otherwise the girl will pay for it.
Katherine realised she had to obey since the threat was obvious. She declined to go with Lucien, despite his insistence. "He desires me. This concludes *immediately*.
Below, waves crashed against sharp rocks as the cliffs towered over the ocean. The wind howled, bearing with it the subtle smell of decay and the salty tang of the ocean. As she drew closer to the edge, Katherine's pulse pounded as she looked around for Thomas.
He came out of the darkness, his cane rooted firmly in the soggy ground. Even though his eyes were sunken and his face looked haggard, Katherine felt a chill from the fire in them.
"You believe you've triumphed over me right?" The way he spoke trembled with anger as he spat. "All you've done is agitate spirits. Secrets were the foundation of this town. What's left when you unravel them out?
"The fact," murmured Katherine, taking a step forward. Her hands shook at her sides, but her voice remained firm. "Celeste's generations should be aware of their past. Do yours as well.
Thomas's sour laugh reverberated from the rocks. This village was *shielded* by my family. We provided them with peace and harmony. There was a reason why the Beaulieus' transgressions were buried.
You've let anarchy loose.
Katherine's mouth clenched. You refer to it as chaos.
I refer to it as the rule of law and justice.
Behind her, a fight broke out, and Lucien, who had followed in spite of her warning, threw Thomas to the ground. The noise of the waves drowned out the men's groans and obscenities as they struggled. The rocks below served as a lethal reminder of the stakes as they dangled dangerously near the edge of the precipice.
"Leave him alone please just let him go!" With his hands clutching Thomas' collar, Lucien snarled.
Katherine moved forward and grabbed Lucien's arm. "No! We're not killers and we will never be, we stand for justice and equality!
Heaving sobs, Thomas's resistance crumbled as they pulled him back together. His cane skidded into the abyss as he fell to the earth.
His voice broke as he muttered, "I just wanted to protect us." "I wanted no one to find out what we had done."
In the distance, police sirens sounded, getting louder by the second. Katherine, her rage becoming to sympathy, crouched next to Thomas. "It's over," she uttered quietly. "The past cannot be preserved any longer."