The hospital smelled of antiseptic and fear.
Ella's shoes clicked against the linoleum as she followed the nurse, Sebastian a silent shadow at her side. His hand hovered near hers, not touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of it—a lifeline she didn't want to need, but couldn't ignore.
"Mr. White is in ICU," the nurse said, stopping outside a door with a flickering red light. "He coded twice during the night, but he's stable for now. Just… don't stay long. He needs rest."
Ella pushed the door open. Her father lay in the bed, wires snaking from his arm to machines that beeped in slow, uneven rhythm. His face was gaunt, his hair grayed more than she remembered. She'd last seen him three days ago, before the surgery, when he'd pressed the pendant into her hand and said, "Luck, Ella. Just a little luck."
A lie. It had never been about luck.
She pulled a chair to the bed, taking his cold hand. "Dad?"
His eyes fluttered open, cloudy with morphine. "Ellie…?"
"I'm here." Her voice broke. "You're gonna be okay."
He shook his head, a weak movement. "Not… about me. The ledger… did you find it?"
Ella's breath hitched. He knew she'd looked. "Yes. I found it."
"Good." He squeezed her hand, his grip surprisingly strong. "Clara's child… not a secret. A weapon. The Blacks… they'll kill for it. For the vault. You have to…." His words slurred, his eyes slipping shut. "Find her. Protect her."
"Find who? Dad, who?"
But he was gone, lost to the drugs.
Ella sat there, his words echoing. Find her. Protect her. Clara's child. Alive? All these years?
A hand touched her shoulder. Sebastian. "He needs to rest."
She stood, wiping her eyes. "He said Clara's child is alive. That the Blacks would kill for her. For the vault."
Sebastian's face hardened. "The vault is a myth. A story my grandfather made up to protect the family fortune during the war."
"Then why does my father's ledger mention it? Why did Clara's letter talk about secrets?" She stepped closer, anger sharpening her voice. "You know more than you're saying. I can see it."
He turned away, staring at the machines. "My grandfather was paranoid. He believed enemies were everywhere—even in the family. He built a vault under the estate, but it's empty. Just a room with stone walls."
"Liar."
He glanced at her, something like pain in his eyes. "Why would I lie?"
"Because you're scared. Because whatever's in that vault terrifies you. Because Clara's child—"
"Is dead," he snapped. "Clara died in 1944. She was twenty. Unmarried. No child. The ledger's wrong. Your father's confused."
But his voice wavered. He was lying.
Ella crossed her arms. "Then take me to the vault. Prove it's empty."
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then: "No."
"Because it's not empty."
He walked to the window, his back to her. "You don't understand what you're digging into. The Blacks… we don't bury secrets. We burn them."
Before she could press, a sharp voice cut through the door.
"Ah, there you are."
Chloe Voss stood in the doorway, her red lipstick bright against the sterile white. She held a leather folder, her smile venomous. "I thought I'd find you here, Sebastian. Your little pet's father on his deathbed—how tragic."
Sebastian moved between Ella and Chloe, his posture a warning. "What do you want?"
"To talk about Clara." Chloe tossed the folder onto a chair. "Or rather, to talk about her son. The one you've spent thirty years hiding."
Ella's blood froze. Son?
Sebastian's jaw tightened. "Get out, Chloe."
"Or what? You'll lock me in the West Wing like the rest of your secrets?" She laughed, loud enough to make the machines beep faster. "Your father knew, you know. Victor Black. He paid to have the boy sent to America, to a family named 'Hale.' To erase him. But secrets have a way of coming home, don't they?"
Ella stared at Sebastian. "Is this true? Clara had a son? Your cousin?"
He didn't deny it.
Chloe leaned against the doorframe, triumphant. "He's back, you know. In London. Looking for answers. For family. Imagine his face when he finds out his own cousin locked his mother's ghost in a gilded cage." She nodded at Ella. "Or when he finds out the nurse's granddaughter has the key to the vault."
"The key—" Ella started.
"Is the pendant." Chloe's gaze flickered to the silver bird at Ella's throat. "Clara's pendant. The vault's lock is shaped like a nightingale. Only the pendant fits."
Sebastian lunged, but Chloe stepped back, grinning. "Tell your father I said hello, Ella. Before he dies. Ask him why he helped Victor Black bury a child. Why he let you walk into a den of wolves."
She left, the door slamming behind her.
Ella turned to Sebastian, her voice shaking. "Why didn't you tell me? About the son. About the key."
He ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. "Because it's not safe. The Hale boy—his name is Ethan—he's not… stable. He's spent his life hating the Blacks for abandoning him. If he finds you, finds the pendant…."
"He'll kill me?"
"He'll use you. To get to the vault. To destroy everything." Sebastian's eyes were dark, urgent. "That's why your father sent you to me. Not because of the debt. To keep you alive."
It clicked. Her father's letter: "Sebastian Black isn't just a creditor—he's the only one who can protect you." He hadn't traded her. He'd hidden her.
Tears stung her eyes. "You knew. All this time, you knew he was trying to protect me."
"I knew he was hiding something." He stepped closer, his thumb brushing a tear from her cheek. "I just… didn't want to believe it was kindness."
The machine beeped faster. Ella's father stirred, his eyes opening again, clearer this time. He looked at Sebastian, then at Ella, his lips moving in a silent plea.
"Go," Ella said, squeezing his hand. "I'll stay. But… thank you. For bringing me."
Sebastian nodded, his gaze lingering on her father's face before he left.
Alone with her father, Ella whispered, "I get it now. Why you lied. Why you sent me to him." She touched her pendant, its metal warm from her skin. "I'll find Ethan. I'll protect Clara's secret. I promise."
Her father's eyes closed, a faint smile on his lips.
An hour later, the nurse appeared. "Visiting hours are over, Ms. White. But… there's a man here to see you. Says he's family."
Ella's heart raced. Ethan?
She followed the nurse to the lobby. A man stood by the doors, his back to her. He was tall, with dark hair and a jawline that echoed Sebastian's—but softer, warmer. When he turned, his eyes widened.
"You have it," he said, his voice rough. "The pendant."
Ella stepped back, hand tightening around the silver bird. "You're Ethan Hale."
He nodded. "Clara's son. Your grandmother's godson. She wrote to me, before she died. Told me about the pendant. About you."
Relief washed over her. He didn't seem dangerous—just… tired. Grief-stricken.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
"To find the truth." He stepped closer, his gaze gentle. "About my mother. About why the Blacks hid me. And to warn you—Chloe Voss isn't just a gossip. She's working with my uncle. Victor Black's brother. He wants the vault. The secrets inside could ruin the family. He'll hurt you to get them."
Ella's breath caught. Another Black. Another threat.
"I need your help," Ethan said. "To get into the vault. To finish what Clara started. To set the truth free."
She thought of Sebastian, of his warning—"He'll use you"—but Ethan's eyes held no malice. Just a hunger for answers, same as hers.
"Meet me tomorrow," she said. "At the workshop. Noon. I'll bring the ledger. The pendant."
He nodded. "Thank you."
As he left, Ella spotted Sebastian across the lobby, watching. He didn't approach, just stood there, his expression unreadable.
She walked to him. "You heard."
"I did."
"Are you going to stop me?"
He studied her for a long moment, then shook his head. "No. But if you go to the vault… I'm coming with you."
"Why?"
"Because whatever's in there," he said, his voice low, "it's my family's mess. And I'm not letting you clean it alone."
Outside, the sun dipped below the hospital roof, painting the sky in bruises. Ella looked at Sebastian, at the way his gaze softened when he thought she wasn't looking, and wondered if the gilded cage was starting to feel like something else. Like a fortress.
A fortress with two keys: a silver nightingale, and a man who was finally learning to stop hiding.
But Ethan's warning lingered—Chloe's working with Victor Black—and Ella knew the storm was only getting closer. The vault's secrets, Clara's son, the Blacks' lies… they were all about to collide.
And when they did, someone would burn.