Chapter Twenty-One
Dominic
The atmosphere in my father's private study was stifling, thick with the scent of old leather, expensive scotch, and the lingering presence of a man who had ruled this room for forty years.
I sat at the center of the mahogany table, my hands folded, looking at the empty high-backed chair at the head.
Nia and Tasha sat to my left, dressed in black silk, their eyes red-rimmed but their spines straight.
My mother sat to my right, her hands steady as she clutched her prayer beads.
Arthur Sterling—the family's longtime attorney and the only man outside the bloodline who knew where all the bodies were buried—cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles. He placed a heavy, wax-sealed envelope on the desk.
"Big Dom was very specific about the transition," Arthur began, reading the will, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "He didn't want a long, drawn-out legal battle. He wanted the empire to remain a fist, not five separate fingers."
The Detroit and New York branches were granted autonomy and a significant buyout to prevent them from eyeing the Atlanta throne.
Nia and Tasha were granted the commercial real estate portfolio move that made them multimillionaires, independent of the family business.
My mother left the estate and a trust that would keep her in pearls for three lifetimes.
Arthur then looked at me.
"To my son, Dominic," Arthur read, his voice dropping an octave.
"I leave the crown: the holdings, the logistics, and the responsibility of the Masters name.
But there is a codicil. The Malibu expansion project is to be funded entirely by the offshore reserve, on the condition that it is titled in the name of Donny Rae Masters.
She is the bank. She is the safety. If you lose your way, Dominic, she holds the keys to the kingdom. "
The room went silent. Nia looked at me, a soft, knowing smile playing on her lips. Tasha reached over and squeezed my hand. My father knew me better than I knew myself.
"I think the old man finally admitted he liked her more than you, Dom," Nia teased, though her voice was thick with emotion.
"He didn't like her more," I murmured, looking at the heavy gold ring on my finger. "He just trusted her more."
? ? ?
The grief was still a heavy shadow over the house, but the secret growing inside Donny was the light we needed to keep moving.
I didn't want to wait for the grass to grow over the grave before we started the next chapter.
Two days after the will was read, I told Donny to pack a bag for a "business meeting. "
When we got settled onto the plane, Donny was curled up in the oversized leather seat, a blanket over her lap. She looked pale, the early stages of the pregnancy taking their toll, but she still had that fire in her eyes.
"This is a long way to go for a meeting, Dominic," she commented, eyeing the fruit plate I'd had the flight attendant prepare for her.
"It's a big deal, baby," I stated, leaning back with a glass of sparkling water. I was staying off the liquor for a while; I wanted my head clear for what was coming. "Vane is waiting for us. He's got some sites he wants us to see."
When we touched down, a black-out SUV was waiting.
We didn't head for the city; we headed for the coast. The air changed as we hit PCH.
The heavy humidity of Atlanta gave way to the sharp, salty tang of the Pacific.
I watched Donny's face as she looked out the window, her eyes widening at the sight of the blue expanse hitting the jagged cliffs.
The driver pulled off the main road, winding up a private, gated drive that led to a promontory overlooking the ocean.
The house was a masterpiece of glass, white stone, and cedar, tucked into the side of the cliff as if it had grown there.
It was modern, sleek, and stood in total contrast to the heavy, dark history of the Atlanta mansion.
"We're here," I announced, hopping out and walking around to open her door.
"This is Julian's place?" Donny asked, stepping out and shielding her eyes from the bright California sun.
"Nah," I answered, grabbing her hand and leading her toward the massive glass pivot door, "Julian lives down the coast. This is our place. If you want it."
I pushed the door open, and the view hit us like a physical force.
The house was an open concept, and the entire back wall was made of retractable glass that led to an infinity pool that seemed to spill directly into the ocean.
There was no noise here, no city hum, no sirens, no ghosts—just the rhythmic, eternal sound of the waves.
Donny walked to the edge of the terrace, her hand resting on her stomach. She turned around, her curls glowing in the golden hour light. "Dominic… this is too much. The will… the baby… now this?"
I walked up to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against my chest. "The will said you hold the keys, Donny Rae.
This house is already in your name. I want our son or daughter to wake up to the sound of the water, not the sound of a gate locking.
I want the Masters name to mean peace out here. "
She turned in my arms, her eyes brimming with tears, the joyous kind, the kind I'd spent a year trying to earn. "It's perfect, Dominic. It's a clean slate."
"That's exactly what it is," I replied, kissing her deeply.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, pre-rolled joint of the finest Cali gold I'd sourced. I lit it, and the scent mixed with the salt air. I took a pull and passed it to her. She took a tiny, cautious hit, just enough to settle her nerves and the morning sickness.
We stood there on the edge of the world, sharing the smoke and the silence. The king was dead, and the crown was heavy, but out here, looking at the horizon, it felt like we were finally light enough to fly.
"Malibu looks good on you, Mrs. Masters," I whispered.
"The legacy looks good on us, Dominic," she replied.
As the sun dipped into the Pacific, painting the sky in a neon-pink farewell, I knew my father was somewhere watching, finally satisfied. The empire wasn't just about what we took; it was about what we built. And out here, on this cliff, we were building something that would never break.