CHAPTER 138
Grace's hand lingered on the folder. "Prepared or not, it has waited long enough." She unlatched the ties and drew out the first document. The parchment crackled, dry with age but still firm. Robert's handwriting scrawled across the page, steady, deliberate, and sharp. Grace's eyes caught on the first line.
"The kingdom is not blind. Shadows move where light should be. If truth remains buried, then the crown itself may fall."
She froze, her breath shallow. His words carried the weight of a man who had known too much, or suspected more than he should. A stiff unease tightened her chest. Robert was dead, but here his voice rose again, clear as day.
Grace swallowed hard and kept reading.
Robert had written of secret meetings, of funds unaccounted for, of strange movements around the northern borders. The tone was not wild speculation but firm observation. He had traced names, marked dates, and hinted at things too dangerous to write fully.
