The car ride to Merrowind Estate was long, winding through thick woods and mist-covered roads that seemed untouched by time. I hadn't been there in over a decade. Not since I was a child clutching my mother's hand, unaware that it would be the last time I'd see her alive.
Back then, it had felt like a fairytale—the towering stone manor nestled atop the cliffs, its ivy-covered walls hiding generations of secrets.
Now, it felt like the prologue to a novel I had never bothered to read.
Gregory had insisted I make the trip.
"Your grandmother has something to give you," he'd said, sliding me an envelope.
I hadn't even known she was alive.
My father had buried that part of our history deep—just like he buried my mother's death under headlines about car accidents and closed investigations. But the note inside the envelope changed everything.
You're more than just his child, Ava. The truth lives in Merrowind. You need to see it for yourself.
~Mother.
The butler, old Mr. Hargrove, opened the massive doors for me with a bittersweet smile. "Welcome home, Miss Lorne."
Home, I thought bitterly. This place had never been mine.
But as I stepped inside, something in me shifted.
The house smelled of aged wood and rose tea—my mother's favorite. The portraits on the walls stared down at me like judges in a silent courtroom. Sterling women—strong, wild-eyed, regal. I saw myself in them, in the curve of a brow, the defiance in a chin.
In the grand library, she waited.
Lady Genevieve Sterling.
My grandmother.
She sat in a velvet chair near the fire, swathed in pearls and grace, but her eyes were steel. "You have your mother's fire," she said as I entered.
"And my father's secrets," I replied.
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Then we should begin."
For hours, she unraveled truths I had never been allowed to know.
My mother, Isadora, had been set to inherit more than just wealth—she had been the visionary behind The Mask, the very project I thought I had founded. It had begun as her dream, a network to protect and empower women with influence, money, and the danger that came with both.
"She knew too much, i warned her, Genevieve said, pouring a cup of jasmine tea. "And she trusted the wrong man with her heart."
My father.
He hadn't just covered up her death—he'd orchestrated the circumstances that led to it. A calculated "accident," timed after she demanded a divorce and full control of her assets.
"She tried to leave," Genevieve whispered. "Tried to take you with her. But he was faster."
Now it all made sense. My father would always tell me he loves me but his actions were always the opposite. It always felt like he had a leash on me.
The weight of it all hit me like a tidal wave. My whole life had been built on a foundation of lies.
Genevieve opened a drawer and handed me a black envelope with a red wax seal. Inside: proof. Financial records. Audio recordings. A second will.
And the key to a hidden vault beneath the estate.
"All of it is yours now," she said. "Your mother wanted you to have it when you were ready." I am glad it's in your hands now.
I stared at the envelope, my fingers curling around its edges.
I was no longer just a woman scorned or a daughter discarded.
I was an heir to a legacy that had been stolen from me by my father
And now?
I was taking it back.