The Return of Raymond West.

Chapter 3

Raymond stepped out of Riverdale International Airport and paused for a moment, taking in the fresh air.

The tarmac stretched out before him, lined with military vehicles and armed personnel standing in perfect formation. Rows of generals in decorated uniforms waited near the terminal entrance, their backs straight, eyes scanning the crowd of passengers spilling out from the gate.

They were waiting for the Supreme Lord.

Raymond glanced in their direction. His eyes passed over them without a flicker of recognition or interest. He didn't slow down. He didn't acknowledge them. He just kept walking, his boots hitting the pavement in steady rhythm.

The generals waited. Their expressions stayed fixed, professional, but a few of them exchanged brief glances as Raymond walked past without so much as a nod.

Raymond reached the curb and raised one hand.

A yellow taxi pulled up almost immediately. The driver leaned over and popped the door open. Raymond climbed in, folding his massive frame into the back seat.

“Where to?” the driver asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

“Westbridge Estate,” Raymond said.

The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb.

Behind them, the generals remained standing in formation, still waiting.

**

The drive took just under thirty minutes.

Westbridge Estate was one of the wealthiest districts in the city. Tall iron gates guarded the entrances to sprawling properties hidden behind perfectly manicured hedges and stone walls. The houses here weren't just homes. They were statements.

The taxi slowed as it approached a massive wrought-iron gate. Beyond it, a wide driveway led up to a sprawling mansion with white columns and tall glass windows that gleamed in the afternoon sun. The lawn was pristine, the garden meticulously maintained. Everything about the place screamed elegance and power.

Raymond leaned forward slightly, looking through the windshield.

He was impressed, deborah had built something real. Something solid. He had seen pictures of her company before, Silverstone Enterprises, a name that carried weight in business circles across the country. The building itself was a towering glass structure in the heart of the city, modern and sleek, a symbol of everything she had accomplished.

But this mansion was different. This was personal. This was hers.

The taxi stopped just outside the gate. Raymond paid the driver and stepped out.

He stood there for a moment, hands in his coat pockets, looking up at the mansion. The gate was closed, but he didn't approach it. He just stayed where he was, taking it all in.

Then his phone buzzed.

Raymond reached into his coat and pulled out an old flip phone. The screen was scratched, the plastic casing worn from years of use. It wasn't sleek. It wasn't modern. It was a relic from ten years ago, maybe more.

He flipped it open and pressed it to his ear.

“You've arrived, haven't you?”

The voice on the other end was deep and familiar. His uncle.

“Yeah,” Raymond said. “I'm here.”

“Good. I've been trying to reach you since I heard you were coming. I wanted to make sure you got in safely, that you knew where to go.”

“I'm fine,” Raymond said. “I'm at Deborah's mansion right now.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then his uncle's voice came back, warm and relieved.

“Thank goodness. I'm glad you're actually going through with this. The engagement. Your father arranged it before he passed. It was his dying wish, Raymond. He wanted you to have someone. Someone strong. Someone who could stand beside you.”

Raymond's jaw tightened slightly, but his voice stayed calm. “I know.”

“Deborah is a good woman,” his uncle continued.

“She's smart, capable, beautiful. Everything your father hoped for. You'll like her. I know you will.”

“I don't plan on going against his wishes,” Raymond said. “That's why I've been helping her all these years. Even though we've never met. I made sure she had what she needed to get where she is now.”

At that moment his uncle let out a long breath. “I'm glad to hear that. Really. Your father would be proud.”

Raymond didn't respond right away. He just looked at the mansion again, his eyes tracing the lines of the windows, the curve of the driveway.

“I'll let you know how it goes,” Raymond said finally.

“Good. I'll be waiting.”

The call ended.

Raymond closed the phone and slipped it back into his coat. He glanced at the gate, then at the mansion beyond it. He could go inside. The gate would open if he asked. But he didn't move.

He decided to wait outside.

He wanted to see her first. Wanted to meet her here rather than going to her office, in front of her home, knowing she would be back soon. So he stayed where he was, standing just outside the gate, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

Minutes passed, then he heard the sound of engines.

Raymond's head turned slightly.

Four black Mercedes vans rolled down the street, their windows tinted dark, their movements slow and deliberate. They didn't stop at the gate. Two of them drove past and pulled over farther down the road. The other two stopped across the street, in front of another mansion on the opposite side.