Beatrice killed him before he could speak.
“She knew I was her daughter?” I asked.
“Yes,” Celeste said.
“And she packed my belongings into trash bags.”
Adrian’s voice was cold.
“She never saw you as her daughter. She saw you as evidence.”
The cruelty of it should have shattered me.
Instead, something inside me became quiet.
Beatrice had stood in my home and insulted my lack of legacy.
All while knowing that I carried both bloodlines.
Vale and Mercer.
Victim and thief.
The hidden child of the man she murdered.
Celeste took my hand.
“There is more.”
I almost laughed.
“How could there possibly be more?”
“The shares in Mercer Aeronautics were inherited through Harold’s father. But the original founding agreement included a blood-heir reversion clause. If fraud by the Mercer controlling family were ever proven, ownership reverted to Daniel Vale or his lawful descendants.”
I looked toward the house.
Police lights still flashed beyond the gates.
“His lawful descendant,” I said.
Adrian nodded.
“You.”
The fraud had been proven.
Daniel’s remains had been found.
My identity could be established through DNA.
By attempting to steal my home and murder me, the Mercer family had triggered a clause that transferred their entire company into my hands.
Not Julian’s failed version of it.
The original corporation.
Its patents.
Its land.
Its remaining international holdings.
Everything.
But before I could absorb it, my phone rang.
Marian’s name appeared on the screen.
I answered.
Her voice was tense.
“Vivian, Julian has escaped custody.”
A crash sounded inside the house.
Then the lights went out.
In the darkness, Julian’s voice came from behind me.
“None of you are leaving with my company.”
PART 8 — THE WOMAN THEY TRIED TO ERASE
A hand closed around my throat.
Cold metal pressed beneath my jaw.
Celeste screamed.
Adrian lunged forward, but Julian dragged me backward against his chest.
“Move and she dies.”
Emergency lights flickered on inside the house, staining the terrace in dim red.
Julian’s face reflected in the glass doors.
Sweat.
Blood.
Desperation.
He held a pistol in one hand and a small black device in the other.
A detonator.
Adrian saw it.
His expression hardened.
“What did you do?”
Julian smiled.
“The vault was built under the oldest gas line in the house. My grandfather showed my father where the shutoff was.”
“You’ll kill yourself too,” I said.
