"You really think I'd be standing here, looking you in the eye, if I had my father's blood on my hands?" Dominic's voice was barely a rasp, his face pale under the flickering streetlights of the driveway.
Ester clutched the manila envelope so hard the paper crinkled. The morning air was biting, smelling of damp earth and the metallic tang of police sirens. "I don't know what to think, Dominic. My husband was a fraud, my father-in-law was a murderer, and my 'savior' is the son of the man who built an empire on my mother's disappearance. It's a lot for one morning, don't you think?"
Dominic took a step toward her, but stopped when he saw her flinch. He let out a long, shuddering breath. "Look, Ester. I can't change what happened in 1995. I was a child. But I spent my entire adult life trying to untangle that knot. If you go to London, if you open that vault, you won't find a death certificate signed by me. You'll find the truth."
"And what is the truth, Dominic? Is she alive?" Ester's voice rose, a mix of hope and agony.
"I don't know," Dominic admitted, his eyes glassing over. "My father took that secret to his grave. But the 'Stella' vault... it's not just papers. It's her life. Everything he seized from her is in there, untouched. I made sure of it."
Ester looked at the midnight-black Rolls-Royce, then back at the mansion where forensic teams were now carrying out boxes of Xavier's lies. "Why didn't you just give me the key years ago?"
"Because you were married to a Blackwood!" Dominic shouted, his frustration echoing off the stone walls. "If I had given you that vault while you were under their roof, Richard would have stripped it bare in an hour. I had to wait until you were free. I had to wait until I could protect you from the fallout of your own inheritance."
"So you played the long game," Ester remarked, her voice dripping with irony. "You watched me struggle. You watched me cry over Xavier's affairs, all while you held the key to my mother's fortune in your pocket. That's not protection, Dominic. That's a puppet show."
Dominic flinched as if she'd slapped him. "It wasn't like that. I wanted to tell you every single day. Do you have any idea how many times I picked up the phone? How many times I almost knocked on your door?"
"But you didn't," Ester said flatly. "You preferred to be the mysterious benefactor. It's easier to be a hero when you're pulling the strings from the shadows, isn't it?"
"Ester, please. Just come back to the house. We can talk about this rationally," Dominic pleaded, reaching out a hand.
"No more houses, Dominic. No more Sterling Heights, no more Blackwood mansions," Ester said, stepping away. "I'm going to a hotel. A boring, neutral hotel that I'll pay for with the small amount of savings Xavier didn't manage to find."
Dominic reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, vintage silver key. It was intricately carved, with a small 'S' engraved on the head. He held it out to her.
"Take it," he said. "It's the key to the London vault. It's at the Sterling Global Bank on Fleet Street. Box 712. You don't need me to be there. You don't need my permission. It's yours. It was always yours."
Ester stared at the key. It felt like a piece of burning coal. She slowly reached out and took it, the cold metal biting into her palm. "And the 'Sterling-Wijaya' merger? If I find out your father killed her, Dominic... I will take every single brick of your empire. I'll leave you with nothing but the clothes on your back."
Dominic didn't blink. He stood his ground, a sad, weary smile touching his lips. "If that's what justice looks like, then take it. I'd rather be a beggar with you knowing the truth than a king living a lie."
"Don't try to be a martyr. It doesn't suit you," Ester said. She turned toward the street, waving down a passing taxi that had been diverted by the police cordons.
"Ester! Wait!" Dominic called out as she opened the taxi door. "At least let my security detail follow you. For your safety."
Ester paused, her hand on the doorframe. She looked at the man who had loved her, lied to her, and saved her all at once. "I've spent five years being 'safe' in a cage, Dominic. I think I'll take my chances with the real world for a while."
She slid into the taxi and gave the driver the name of a modest hotel across town. As the car pulled away, she watched Dominic through the rear window. He stood alone in the middle of the road, a dark silhouette against the rising sun, looking smaller than she had ever seen him.
Inside the hotel room, Ester didn't sleep. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the silver key and the manila envelope. She felt like a different person. The Ester who had begalged over blueprints forty-eight hours ago was dead. This new Ester was a woman with a heritage she didn't understand and a fortune she wasn't sure she wanted.
She pulled out her phone and booked a one-way flight to London for that evening. No more running. No more hiding.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed. It was an international number.
Ester hesitated, then answered. "Hello?"
"Is this Ester Wijaya?" a woman's voice asked. The voice was soft, elegant, and had a slight accent—one that sounded hauntingly like Ester's own.
Ester's heart skipped a beat. "Who is this?"
"My name is Julianne," the woman replied. "I'm a lawyer in London. I was your father's primary contact before he passed away. He left something with me ... something that couldn't be kept in a bank vault."
Ester gripped the phone, her knuckles turning white. "What is it? More papers? More secrets about the Sterlings?"
"Not papers, Ester," the woman said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's a person. Someone who has been waiting for you to find the silver key for a very, very long time."
Ester's breath hitched. "Who? Who is it?"
The line crackled with static for a moment, and then another voice came through—faint, raspy, as if it hadn't been used in years.
"Ester? Is that you, my little star?"
Ester's world stopped. It was the nickname her mother used to whisper to her every night before the 'accident' thirty years ago.
"Mom?" Ester choked out, tears finally streaming down her face. "Mom, is that really you?"
The voice on the other end let out a sob, and then the line went dead.
Ester stared at the phone, her mind racing a mile a minute. She looked at the silver key on the nightstand. It wasn't just a key to a vault anymore. It was a key to a ghost.
She grabbed her bag and headed for the door, but as she opened it, she found a man standing in the hallway. It wasn't Dominic. It was a man she didn't recognize—tall, with grey eyes and a scar running down his cheek. He was wearing a Sterling Group security badge, but his eyes were cold and predatory.
"Mrs. Blackwood?" the man asked, his hand moving toward his jacket pocket.
"It's Ester Wijaya," she corrected, her pulse hammering. "Who are you?"
The man stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a click.
"I'm the man Dominic Sterling hired to make sure you never actually made it to London, Ester. Now, give me the key, or things are going to get very messy."