Chapter 166 The Mirror Bride

Chapter 166 The Mirror Bride
"Take this and go into the private vault behind my bed," Gideon said, pressing a brass key into Isabella's palm.

Isabella pulled her fingers back, staring down at the metal. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Lock the steel door from the inside," Gideon ordered, his voice flat. "Don't open it for anyone."

"Is this about the loan contract?" Isabella asked, stepping toward him. "Bring the folder down here right now. I told you I'll sign the papers, so we don't need to fight an armed convoy."

A sharp gunshot cracked outside the front courtyard, echoing off the dining room walls.

A second gunshot boomed near the front gate, the sharp crack tearing through the morning air.

Gideon grabbed her shoulder, pushing her toward the rear hall. "Move right now, Isabella. I know what I'm doing."

Isabella gripped the key and ran through the archway.

She reached the foot of the stairs, but her boots came to a halt on the runner rug. Her family was facing an armed raid, and hiding in a steel box while her brother stood alone felt wrong.

She turned on her heel, slipping behind the tall wooden screen near the dining room entrance.

Gideon pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and tapped a speed dial number.

"Is she on the property?" Gideon asked into the receiver.

"She arrived two minutes ago, Young Master," his assistant answered through the speaker. "I have her in the rear courtyard."

"Bring her through the back entrance immediately," Gideon commanded. "The Morris convoy just breached the main drive."

He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the mahogany table.

The heavy front doors of the mansion blasted open with a loud thud.

The head house guard flew backward through the foyer, his back slamming hard against the stone floor. His rifle skidded across the tiles, stopping near the base of the dining archway.

Heavy combat boots marched through the entryway.

A man in a gray wool coat strode into the dining room, surrounded by six armed men in black tactical gear.

Six heavy combat rifles pointed directly into the dining hall, their laser sights sweeping across the walls and furniture.

Lord Morris stopped at the edge of the long table, resting his gloved hands on the back of an empty chair. His face showed no warmth.

"Where is my bride, Gideon?" Morris demanded, his voice rough.

Gideon did not stand up. He picked up his cup, taking a slow sip of coffee before setting it back on the saucer.

"She's upstairs getting ready," Gideon replied, keeping his voice level. "I sent the signed contract to your offices yesterday morning, Lord Morris. There was no need to bring six trucks of hired guns to my house."

Behind the wooden screen, Isabella's breath caught in her throat.

Her fingers dug into the carved wood. Her mind spun in total confusion. She had never touched that contract, and she had spent the entire night arguing against the marriage.

Why did Gideon claim the paperwork was already delivered? And why was he telling Morris she was getting ready when he had just ordered her into a vault?

"I don't trust pieces of paper from a bankrupt family," Morris said, pulling his leather gloves off his fingers. "I came to collect what I bought."

"Have a seat," Gideon offered, gesturing toward the breakfast bowls. "Join me for food while she finishes her preparations."

"I'm not here to eat breakfast with you," Morris spat, tossing his gloves onto the tablecloth.

One of the armed guards stepped up to Morris's shoulder, raising his rifle. "Let me take three men upstairs, boss. We'll drag her down by her hair."

Gideon's jaw tightened, but he remained seated.

Morris raised his hand, halting the guard in his tracks.

"Hold your position," Morris commanded.

He turned his cold gaze back to Gideon, tapping his gold watch with a single finger.

"I'll give you five minutes, Gideon," Morris said, his voice dropping into a harsh rasp. "If she doesn't walk through that doorway before the second hand hits the twelve, my men will tear this house apart room by room."

"She'll be down," Gideon said, staring straight into his eyes.

Gideon didn't flinch under the threat. He set his porcelain cup down, his dark eyes meeting the older man's stare without blinking.

The dining room fell into suffocating silence.

Morris stood by the table, his eyes fixed on his watch. The armed guards kept their rifles aimed at the doorways, their fingers resting on the triggers.

Isabella pressed her back flat against the wall behind the screen. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She looked down at the brass vault key in her hand, wondering if she should run for the stairs before the time ran out.

The seconds dragged on.

One minute passed.

Two minutes.

Gideon sat motionless in his chair, his hands resting flat on the mahogany wood.

Three minutes.

Four minutes.

The tension in the room grew thicker with every breath.

The lead guard shifted his boots, his finger tightening over the trigger guard. "Time's almost up, boss."

Morris lowered his wrist. A dark, vicious sneer spread across his face.

"Five minutes are done," Morris declared, raising his right hand to signal his men. "Search the house. Kill anyone who stands in your way."

The side door near the kitchen clicked open.

The heavy wood swung inward with a soft scrape against the floor.

A woman stepped into the bright light of the dining room.

She wore a dark silk dress that fell straight to her ankles, her hair pulled back into a neat knot at the base of her neck.

Behind the screen, Isabella leaned forward to look through the narrow slats of the wood.

Her breath seized entirely. Her knees shook so violently that she nearly dropped the brass key onto the floor.

The woman standing beside the table had the exact same face.

The same sharp jawline. The same dark eyes. The same height, the same build, and the exact same skin tone.

Every tiny detail matched her own reflection, from the shape of her eyebrows down to the way her fingers rested against the silk fabric.

It was like looking into a polished mirror.

The woman stepped toward Lord Morris, offering a polite, practiced bow.

"I apologize for the delay, Lord Morris," the woman said.

Isabella clutched her own throat in pure shock.

The voice coming from the woman's lips was an exact, flawless match to her own.