The Shadow Billionaires

CHAPTER 2: THE FALLOUT — PART 2

A phone buzzed on the counter. Celeste walked over and picked it up, scanning the screen. Her assistant had texted a single image, a still frame from the lobby’s camera feed.

A man standing behind the security cordon earlier that morning, watching her car. The same face appeared in another photo from years ago, her father’s funeral.

Her stomach dropped, She showed the phone to Dickson. “Recognize him?”

He froze, that one second of hesitation was enough.

“You do,” she said quietly. “You know him.”

Dickson’s eyes lifted, calm again. “No.” but his heartbeat, she could almost hear it.

“You’re lying.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, turning toward the door.

“Don’t walk away from me.”

He stopped, back to her, shoulders tense, she stepped closer. “Who are you really, Dickson Ford?”

When he turned, his face was unreadable, but his voice carried something dark, something that wasn’t denial.

“Someone your father once tried to destroy.”

The words landed like a blow. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe, then he walked out.

The elevator doors closed behind him with a hiss, and the sound seemed to swallow the room.

Celeste stood where he’d left her, staring at the faint handprint he’d left on the glass table.

The city roared far below, a thousand horns and sirens carrying up through the rain like ghosts of applause.

She picked up her phone again, scrolled back to the image. The man in the photo, pale eyes, soldier’s posture, was watching her, not the cameras, not the crowd. Her, and Dickson had known him.

Her chest tightened. She called her assistant. “Get me everything on this face. Facial recognition, archives, whatever you can pull from my father’s files.”

“Which files, ma’am? The archives are sealed.”

“Unseal them.”

“But Mr. Ford”

“Mr. Ford doesn’t run this company,” she snapped. “I do.”

She hung up, the anger steadying her. Then she moved to her father’s old study, a preserved room of polished mahogany and locked drawers, untouched since his death. The air smelled of old cologne and metal.

She entered the access code on the terminal. ACCESS DENIED, again. ACCESS DENIED. The third attempt triggered a voice prompt. “Authorization required.”

Her father’s recorded voice, calm and smug, filled the room “If you’re hearing this, you’re trying to open something that was never meant for you, Celeste.”

Her breath hitched. She’d forgotten he’d done this, built his empire on control, even after death.

“Everything I’ve done was to protect our name. Don’t dig where there’s nothing left to find.”

The message ended with a click, and thensomething new. A second voice layered beneath the static, rougher, male.

“Ford, if this goes wrong”

The audio cut, Celeste froze.

She rewound it, isolating the last second. There it was again: “Ford.” Not her father’s voice, another man, younger, urgent. She stared at the waveform on the screen, her reflection ghosted over it. The name was the same, ford.

She whispered, “Dickson.”

The elevator pinged again. Her head snapped up, no one had called it. Footsteps echoed across the marble.

“Ms. Vonn?” her assistant’s voice called faintly from the hallway. “There’s someone

A dull thud cut her off, then silence. Celeste’s pulse leapt. She reached for the drawer, found the small pistol her father had kept hidden there, another sound: the elevator doors sliding open fully this time.

“Don’t shoot,” a voice said.

Dickson stepped into the doorway, slower this time, eyes scanning the shadows. His shirt was wet with rain, his expression unreadable.

“You came back,” she said, gun still raised.

“I didn’t leave for long.”

“Tell me why my father recorded your name.”

He exhaled, rain dripping from his cuffs. “Because I wasn’t supposed to survive him.”

“What does that mean?”

He took one step closer. “It means your father and I made a deal once. He broke it. People died.”

Her finger twitched on the trigger. “You’re lying.”

“Check the sub-folder inside that archive, section delta-nine.” He glanced toward the desk. “If it’s still there.”

She kept the weapon trained on him but moved to the console, typing fast. A hidden index flashed open. DELTA-9 / PROJECT SHIELDLINE.

Files poured across the screen, names, coordinates, financial transfers. One name repeated, Captain D. Ford.

She looked up at him, disbelief breaking through the anger. “You were part of my father’s private security program.”

“Until he sold us out,” Dickson said quietly. “Until my unit died because of him.”

Her grip faltered. “No”

“Your father wasn’t the hero you remember, Celeste.”

The words cut deeper than the thunder outside.

“Get out,” she whispered.

“I can’t. They’ll come for you next.”

“I said”

Her voice broke, the word lost in the crash of lightning, for a heartbeat the power flickered, plunging the penthouse into half-darkness.

When the lights steadied, Dickson was gone, only the computer screen remained, one file still open. A single document titled OPERATION VOW.

The first line read:

Authorized by, C. Vonn.

Her own name. She stumbled back, pulse hammering. The gun slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a dull clatter.

The skyline outside flared white with another bolt of lightning, and in that split second of glare, the reflection on the window showed something that made her blood freeze, someone else’s silhouette standing behind her for just an instant before vanishing into the dark.

Then the storm swallowed the sound, and the screen went black.