THE WRONG VOW: My Perfect Husband

Edward McLauren stood still for a heartbeat. The father vanished, but the man remained who had spent countless years making the same choices before emotions blurred his rationality. "When did you get it?" he asked. Elizabeth unlocked her phone and handed it across. "This morning." He read it twice. His thumb paused over the sender's name before his gaze met hers. “Did she reply after this” Elizabeth shook her head. “I called.” ‘No answer.’ “Straight to voicemail.” Jonathan took the phone from his father and saw the message. “Come alone.” “This is not good.” “You think I like this? “But you’re going anyway.” It was a statement. Elizabeth didn’t break from his gaze. “If Isabelle asked me to come alone, then there was a reason.” Jonathan exhaled through his nose. “Or someone wanted you alone.” When the silence settled in the morning room, it was thoughtful, not uncomfortable. Edward took his phone. “I’m calling her again.” The line went to voicemail after three frustrating rings and he ended the call. Margaret appeared quietly in the doorway. “Mr. McLauren?” Edward looked up. “Yes?” “The florist would like your opinion on the arrangements in the west drawing room.” Jonathan laughed once. “They’re asking the wrong man.” “They insist.” Edward closed his eyes briefly. “I'll survive.” Margaret didn’t move. “There is... one other matter.” Something in her tone caused all three McLaurens to look at her. "The security office has been trying to reach Miss Isabelle since seven this morning." Elizabeth frowned. "Security?" Margaret nodded. "They wished to confirm tomorrow's arrival schedule." "And?" "No answer." Jonathan waved a dismissive hand. "Her phone's probably buried under fifty garment bags." Margaret inclined her head. "Perhaps." But she didn't sound convinced. Edward noticed. "So did Elizabeth. He folded Isabelle's message into the back of his thoughts, where every unanswered question had begun gathering that morning. Too many small things. None significant by themselves. Together... They refused to sit comfortably. Edward looked at Elizabeth again. "I'll have Daniel drive you." She smiled apologetically. "Dad..." "I'm serious." "So am I." "You shouldn't be travelling alone." Elizabeth stepped closer until she could rest a hand lightly on his arm. "I'll be there and back before anyone notices." "I've already noticed." She smiled. "I know." His expression softened. For a moment he saw not the woman standing before him but the little girl who had once insisted on rescuing an injured robin by reading veterinary textbooks far beyond her age. She had always believed problems could be solved if someone simply cared enough. He admired that about her. He also feared it. Finally he nodded. "Thirty minutes." She blinked. "What?" "If I haven't heard from you in thirty minutes..." "I'll call." "No." His voice remained gentle. "If I haven't heard from you in thirty minutes..." He slipped his car keys into his pocket. "...I'm coming." Elizabeth hesitated. Then nodded. "Deal." Jonathan pointed a warning finger. "And if Isabelle has dragged you into another ridiculous surprise party..." "I'll blame you." "Good." "I usually do." He grinned. "There she is." Elizabeth hugged her father one last time before crossing the entrance hall. The Founder's Clock stood waiting where it always had. Its pendulum continued its endless journey. Tick. Tick. Tick. Without thinking, Elizabeth touched the polished walnut casing. Just as every McLauren had done before stepping into uncertainty. The clock answered with another measured beat. Tick. She turned toward the front doors. Outside, the first proper rain of the morning had begun. The drive from Ashcroft Hall to Bramble Cross usually took twenty minutes. Today the countryside seemed strangely empty. Rain softened the distant hills until they blurred into shades of blue-grey beneath heavy clouds. The wipers moved steadily across the windscreen. Elizabeth kept one eye on the road and the other on the dashboard clock. 10:42. She reached for the radio. Then changed her mind. Silence suited her better. It gave her room to think. Why the Old Lantern? Why not Ashcroft? Why not the museum? Why tell her to come alone? None of it sounded like Isabelle. Yet the number belonged to her. The photograph belonged to her. Everything except the words. Her phone buzzed. Elizabeth snatched it up so quickly she almost dropped it. Her heart sank. Email. Not Isabelle. She placed it back on the passenger seat. Ahead, the road curved gently around a stand of ancient oaks. Beyond them lay Bramble Cross. Five minutes more. She never noticed the black sedan emerging from a side road nearly half a mile behind her. Inside the sedan, no one spoke. The driver kept both hands on the wheel. The passenger watched Elizabeth's car through a pair of compact binoculars before lowering them. "Confirmation?" A voice crackled through the speaker. "Visual confirmation." "The target?" "The vehicle matches." A pause. Then "No mistakes." "There won't be." The radio clicked silent. The passenger folded a photograph before slipping it back inside a leather folder. Only one corner remained visible. A woman smiling at the camera. Dark hair. Grey eyes. Across the bottom, a single word had been typed. ISABELLE. The passenger looked up again. Rain blurred the number plate ahead. "Close enough." Elizabeth slowed as orange warning signs appeared around the next bend. ROAD WORKS She frowned. There hadn't been roadworks here two days ago. Temporary barriers narrowed the road to a single lane. A portable traffic light glowed red. She eased to a stop. No workers. No machinery. No fresh tarmac. Only silence. Rain drummed softly against the roof. Elizabeth checked her mirrors. Nothing. Then The black sedan rolled into view behind her. She barely gave it a second thought. Country roads rarely offered alternatives. A man wearing a fluorescent waterproof jacket emerged from behind the barriers carrying a clipboard. He smiled politely as he approached her window. She lowered it halfway. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss." His accent was local. Comfortingly ordinary. "We've had a drainage collapse beneath the road." Elizabeth glanced past him. "I don't see anyone working." "They've stepped away while we make the area safe." He smiled again. "Should only be another minute." "Thank you." He tipped his hard hat politely. Then stepped aside. Elizabeth watched him disappear behind the barriers. Something felt... Not wrong. Incomplete. She looked again. The temporary traffic light remained red. Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. Still nothing. She checked the mirror again. The sedan behind her hadn't moved. Its headlights glowed through the rain like patient eyes. The traffic light flickered. Red. Amber. Green. Elizabeth shifted into first gear. At that exact instant A deafening crack exploded beside her head. The driver's window disintegrated inward in a spray of safety glass. Elizabeth cried out, instinctively throwing her arms over her face. Before she could understand what had happened The driver's door was wrenched open. Cold rain flooded the car. Strong hands seized her arm. "What" She fought on instinct. Twisting. Kicking. Trying to pull free. A cloth clamped over her mouth. A sharp chemical smell filled her lungs, no...no She drove an elbow backward, connecting with someone's ribs. A grunt. Another pair of hands caught her shoulders. "Move!" "She's fighting!" Her vision blurred and suddenly she couldn't process the rain, the voices and the smell. Everything began folding into darkness. Her phone slipped from the passenger seat onto the road. Its screen lit up one final time. Dad Calling... The call rang unanswered. Then the screen went black as a boot crushed it beneath the rain. Elizabeth's last memory was of the Founder's Clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. Then, nothing.