VOWS OF DECEPTIONS

CHAPTER 2 — Shadows at the Gate

The rain hadn’t eased. It came down harder, heavy enough to turn the Vaughn estate’s courtyard into mirrors of black glass.

Christopher’s coat was already soaked through by the time he reached the outer gates. He didn’t run. He never ran.

The woman under the umbrella watched him approach. The lamp above the gate caught her face, pale, rain-specked, lips painted a careful red. He knew her before she spoke.

“Hello, Mr. Ford,” she said. Her voice carried a hint of amusement and warning. “Or should I say, Christopher Alden-Ford?”

The name hit him like a bullet through water, muted, but fatal. He stopped just short of her. “You shouldn’t use that name.”

“Oh, I think I should,” she replied. “It’s the one you were born with.”

Her umbrella tilted, revealing eyes the color of steel. “Six years, Christopher. Six years pretending to be a driver. Don’t you think it’s getting old?”

He glanced toward the security booth. The guard pretended to look busy, but his radio light blinked red, recording. Christopher stepped closer, his tone low. “Say what you came to say, Lila.”

She smiled. “Still direct. I missed that.”

The rain whispered between them. She took a breath, leaning slightly forward. “They’re moving against your father’s trust. You have less than forty-eight hours before the board votes to dissolve it.”

“I told you,” he said evenly, “that life is gone.”

She laughed softly. “Gone? You’re hiding in plain sight, working for the Vaughns of all people, the same family your father was negotiating with before he died? That’s not coincidence, that’s strategy.”

His gaze flicked to the mansion beyond the gate, its lights, its quiet arrogance. “You think I’m here for revenge?”

“I think you’re here because you can’t help yourself.”

He looked back at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, but I should. Because the man leading the charge against the trust is sitting inside that mansion, drinking your employer’s whisky.”

Christopher’s hand twitched at his side. “Who?”

She stepped closer, her voice barely above the rain. “Nathan Vaughn.”

He didn’t blink, but the silence after her words was sharp enough to hear. Lila watched him carefully. “He’s selling his family’s remaining shares to Mason Crowe’s firm tomorrow.

Once it happens, every document linking your father’s company to the Vaughns will vanish. Along with your chance to clear your name.”

He turned away, jaw tight. “That name doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It mattered enough for you to bury it,” she said.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the storm did. Finally, she sighed. “Look, you can keep playing the quiet servant, but the clock’s ticking. If you want to stop them, you’ll need to walk back into that world, as yourself.”

Christopher’s voice was cold now. “And what would you get out of that?”

Lila’s smile faltered. “The same thing I always wanted, justice. You’re not the only one who lost everything when your father ‘fell’ from that balcony.”

He studied her for a long second, the kind of stare that measured intent, not words. “Go home, Lila.”

“I can’t. I’m being watched.”

His eyes narrowed. “By who?”

She hesitated. “Crowe’s people. They know I found you.”

Lightning cracked overhead. He reached for her arm, pulling her closer beneath the gate light. “You brought them here?”

“No!” she snapped. “I came alone. I swear it.”

The security guard’s radio hissed, a voice breaking through: “Gate cam offline… repeat, we’ve got interference”

Christopher’s blood ran cold. “Move.”

He pushed her toward the shadowed wall as headlights flickered through the rain, a black sedan rolling up the narrow lane, windows tinted, engine too quiet for a normal visitor.

Lila’s breath hitched. “That’s them.”

“Stay behind me,” Christopher said.

The car stopped just beyond the gate. Two men stepped out, coats dark and faces hidden by the rain. They moved with the precision of people paid to make things disappear.

One of them called out, voice muffled. “Mr. Ford. You’ve been hard to find.”

Christopher’s mind ran through a dozen options, none good. Lila whispered, “They’re here for the files. The ones your father left in Zurich. They think you have them.”

He didn’t answer. The man outside the gate smiled faintly. “Why don’t you open up? We just want to talk.”

Christopher’s tone stayed level. “You’ll have to make an appointment.”

The second man lifted something from his coat, not a gun, but a small jammer. The estate’s lights flickered once, twice, then died. The gates groaned.

Christopher turned sharply. “Lila”

She was already running, shoes splashing through puddles. “Get back inside!”

He caught her arm before she could bolt toward the mansion. “No. They’ll follow. This way.”

He pulled her toward the service path behind the wall, the one only staff used. His keycard buzzed red, then green. They slipped inside the garden maze.

Behind them, the gate gave way with a metallic shriek. Voices followed, calm, efficient, wrong. Lila’s breathing quickened. “You said this life was gone, Christopher.”

“It was.”

“Then why do they still want you dead?”

He didn’t answer. He moved through the garden like he’d memorized every path, which he had. “Where are we going?” she whispered.

“Somewhere they won’t look.”

“Where’s that?”

He stopped, turning toward the mansion’s side wing, Ariella’s private library, its tall windows glowing faintly through the storm.

Her silhouette moved inside, pacing, unaware of the danger outside her gates. Lila caught his stare. “You can’t involve her. She doesn’t even know who you are.”

His jaw set. “No. But she’s about to find out.”

A gunshot cracked the air. Stone splintered near his head. Lila screamed. Christopher grabbed her wrist, dragging her behind a column. The men were closer now, one of them shouting into a radio.

He checked the line of sight, then pulled a small, sleek device from his pocket, not a weapon, but a black card chip etched with the Ford crest. Lila’s eyes widened. “You kept one?”

He pressed it into her palm. “If I don’t make it out, take this to Crowe’s office. Tell him the heir’s awake.”

She shook her head violently. “I’m not leaving you again.”

He didn’t reply. His gaze flicked toward the mansion one last time, the woman who hated him now standing at the window, unaware she was looking at the man who might die for her name.

The next lightning flash turned the gardens white. When the light faded, Christopher was gone.

The last thing Lila heard was a single whisper in the rain , her name, and the unmistakable click of someone stepping out of the darkness behind her. Then silence.