His Father Bought Me

Minutes earlier.

Estelle wheeled herself toward the drawer, slower this time, the soft creak of the chair echoing faintly in the quiet room. The air felt thicker here, like the walls were holding their breath with her. She stopped just in front of it and for a moment, she did nothing.

Then she closed her eyes and drew in a deep, steady breath, her fingers curling slightly against her lap. When she opened them again, there was something sharper in her gaze. Resolve, curiosity, and maybe fear.

She lifted a trembling hand and the drawer slid open with a soft, wooden scrape. She pushed aside its contents carefully, fabric, paper, small forgotten things, until her fingers stopped.

There it was, the button. Small. Unassuming. Almost ordinary.

Her pulse quickened, thudding hard against her ribs as she stared at it. A cold, creeping unease settled in her chest, curling tight. Slowly, her trembling finger moved forward and pressed. She waited, looking around the room, but nothing happened.

She blinked. Her brows pulled together as she waited, her breath caught halfway in her chest. Still nothing.

"That’s it?" she murmured under her breath, a hint of disbelief slipping in. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head as disappointment began to settle in. Maybe it was nothing after all.

She started to turn when suddenly, a low groan broke the silence. Estelle froze. The sound was deep, mechanical, almost buried beneath the walls. Her eyes widened as she turned back, her breath hitching.

The drawer shifted first, and the dressing mirror trembled next, and then slowly, silently, began to move. Wood scraped against wood, and something unseen unlocked. Then, a door revealed itself.

Estelle’s jaw dropped. For a few seconds, she didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her mind raced too fast to catch up, her chest rising and falling unevenly as she took it in.

A hidden door was right there. Her fingers tightened against the armrest of the chair. To go, or not to go. The thought lingered only briefly.

She inhaled deeply, steadied herself, and pushed forward. The chair rolled slowly across the floor until she stopped just in front of the opening. The air that drifted out from within was cooler, faintly stale, like the place had been untouched.

She let out a quiet breath and reached for the handle, her fingers trembling as they wrapped around it. For a second, she hesitated. Then she turned it.

The door opened too easily, as if it had been waiting. As it swung inward, lights flickered on one after the other, illuminating the space beyond.

Then stairs. Another set. Estelle’s stomach dropped. Each step lit up in sequence, stretching downward into something she couldn’t fully see.

"Not again," she whispered, the memory of her fall flashing sharp and vivid in her mind. The loss of balance, the impact, the helplessness.

Her grip tightened as she leaned forward slightly, peering into the space, trying to make sense of it. The front wheels of her chair edged dangerously close, and the chair tipped just enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

Quickly, she grabbed onto the wall, steadying herself, her fingers pressing hard against the surface until the chair settled again.

"I have no plans to fall a second time," she murmured, her voice quieter now, steadier despite the tension coiling inside her. "But I will find out what you’re hiding in here, Margaret."

Her gaze remained fixed on the staircase, calculating, measuring, like she was trying to will herself down without moving. "Now I have one more reason to get back on my feet," she added under her breath.

Still, she didn’t turn away. Not yet. She just sat there, staring at the steps, her mind racing with possibilities, danger, answers, secrets buried too deep.

Then her phone buzzed. The sharp vibration against her side made her flinch. Her hand moved quickly, reaching for it. The moment she saw the screen, her pulse spiked, loud and sudden in her ears.

"Justin?" she murmured, the name barely more than a breath as it slipped past her lips. She tapped the answer button quickly, pressing the phone to her ear. "Hello? Justin?"

"Estelle, I found something." His voice came through filled with urgency.

Her brows knit together, and she shifted slightly in her chair. "Already?" she asked, a flicker of unease curling low in her stomach. "And why are you calling from your own line?"

"There’s no time to explain," Justin said, the urgency sharpening. "You need to come now. I don’t think we have much time."

Estelle nodded before she remembered he couldn’t see her. Her fingers tightened slightly around the phone. "I can’t just leave," she said, her voice dropping. "Magnus won’t allow it."

A soft, almost frustrated exhale came through the line. "Estelle, if you don’t come now, we might never get another chance."

The words settled heavily in her chest, and her pulse began to pound, each beat loud in her ears. This could be it. The one opening, the one crack in the truth she had been chasing. And yet, something about this felt off. Wrong in a way she couldn’t quite name.

She drew in a slow breath, steadying herself. If this is the only chance I get, I’m taking it. Her grip on the phone tightened. "Alright," she said finally, her voice firmer now. "Tell me where you are."

There was a brief pause. Just long enough to make her stomach twist.

"I’ll wait for you at our usual place," Justin said at last.

Estelle’s gaze drifted toward the open door. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to stay put, but she pushed it down. "I’ll be there soon," she replied.

Justin did not reply, the line just went dead.

For a moment, she just stared at the phone, the silence pressing in around her. Then she exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over her face. "Damn the consequences," she muttered under her breath. "I need the truth."

She turned her chair toward the door, determination settling into her spine, and then her phone rang again. The sharp sound sliced through the room, making her flinch.

Without checking the screen, she answered, lifting it back to her ear. "I’m already on my way," she said quickly.

"Hello, Estelle." The voice was unfamiliar.

Estelle was still.

"It’s Lena," the voice continued, almost casually, "and I think there’s something you need to know."

Estelle pulled the phone away, her eyes flicking to the screen. The number was unknown. How did she get my number? Her brows furrowed as her pulse kicked up again, faster this time. What does she want from me?

She brought the phone back to her ear, her tone calm. "I really don’t have time for this, Lena. I have somewhere important to be."

There was a brief pause on the other end, then Lena spoke again, her voice tinged with something sharper. "More important than knowing the press is outside my house asking questions about Roman?"

The words hit like a blow, and Estelle froze. Her heart slammed hard against her ribs, the sound roaring in her ears as everything else fell away.