No one moved.
No one breathed.
The photograph lay between them like a weapon no one knew how to touch.
Catherine stared at it, her pulse thundering in her ears.
Jack.
Younger.
Harder.
Standing inside a cold metal room.
And beside him—
Richard.
Not the gentle uncle who attended family dinners.
Not the calm elder who spoke with measured wisdom.
This Richard looked different.
Sharper.
Colder.
Like a man who didn't ask for obedience—
He expected it.
Jack's eyes never left him.
"Answer me."
His voice was low.
Controlled.
Far more dangerous than shouting.
Richard glanced at the photograph, then back at Jack.
For a moment, no expression crossed his face.
Then he sighed.
Slowly.
Almost disappointed.
"You were never supposed to find that."
Catherine's stomach dropped.
"What does that mean?" she demanded.
Richard turned to her, his voice softening instantly.
"Catherine, you don't understand what you're seeing."
"Then explain it!" she snapped.
The sharpness in her own voice surprised her.
But not as much as the fear in her chest.
Because somewhere deep inside—
She already knew this was bad.
Richard looked at Jack again.
"I warned them this could happen," he said quietly.
Jack's jaw tightened.
"Them?"
No answer.
Instead, Richard stepped closer to the table.
"That man in the photo," he said, pointing at the younger version of Jack, "is not the husband you knew."
Catherine felt the room tilt.
Jack's hand clenched into a fist.
"Careful," he said.
But Richard continued.
"That man was unstable. Violent. Brilliant, but impossible to control."
"I said careful."
Richard smiled faintly.
"And now look at you."
Before anyone could react, Jack surged forward and slammed Richard against the wall.
Gasps filled the kitchen.
Catherine stumbled back.
Jack's forearm pinned Richard's chest as fury burned in his eyes.
"Say one more word," Jack said coldly, "and I'll make you regret remembering my name."
Richard should have looked afraid.
He didn't.
Instead—
He looked satisfied.
"There you are," he murmured.
Jack froze.
Something in those three words struck deep.
A flash.
A room.
Metal walls.
Blood on his knuckles.
Richard's voice:
There you are.
Jack staggered back, releasing him instantly.
He grabbed the counter for support, breathing hard.
Catherine rushed forward instinctively.
"Jack!"
He flinched at her touch—
Then softened when he saw it was her.
"I'm fine," he said.
But he wasn't.
His eyes were wild.
Haunted.
Richard straightened his jacket calmly.
"You see?" he said to Catherine. "It's starting."
"What is starting?" she asked.
"The return."
The room went still.
Jack lifted his head slowly.
"What did you do to me?"
This time—
Richard didn't dodge.
He looked directly at him.
"We saved you."
Jack laughed once.
Harsh.
Empty.
"From what?"
"From yourself."
Catherine shook her head.
"No more riddles."
She stepped between them now, trembling but resolute.
"You tell us the truth right now."
Richard's gaze shifted to her.
And for the first time—
He looked almost sympathetic.
"Years ago," he said quietly, "Jack became involved with people he should never have met."
Jack frowned.
"No."
"You were useful," Richard continued. "Too useful. They trained you. Used you. Sent you where clean men never go."
Images exploded in Jack's mind.
Running rooftops.
Gunfire.
A passport with a false name.
A man begging.
He dropped to one knee.
Catherine knelt beside him instantly.
"Jack—look at me."
His breathing was ragged.
"I remember…" he whispered.
Richard's eyes narrowed.
Too fast.
He was remembering too fast.
"When it became clear you wanted out," Richard continued quickly, "they planned to eliminate you."
Jack looked up slowly.
"And you?"
"I intervened."
The lie was smooth.
Too smooth.
But Catherine was no longer blind.
"You're leaving something out," she said.
Richard said nothing.
She stepped closer.
"You were in that room."
Still silence.
"You knew them."
Nothing.
Then Jack spoke.
Voice low.
Deadly.
"You led them."
Richard's eyes flickered.
That tiny movement was enough.
Catherine's breath caught.
"No…"
Jack rose slowly to his feet.
Every trace of confusion had vanished.
He moved with chilling certainty now.
"You didn't save me," he said.
"You erased me."
Richard took one step back.
First sign of caution.
"You were dangerous."
"I was useful," Jack corrected.
His eyes were ice.
"And when I refused… you buried who I was."
The front door suddenly burst open.
Two men in dark clothes entered.
Armed.
Silent.
Catherine screamed.
Richard didn't even turn.
He had expected them.
"I hoped we could do this peacefully," he said.
Jack stepped in front of Catherine automatically.
Protective.
Instinctive.
Real.
But his voice carried something new now.
Memory.
"Take Catherine upstairs," he said quietly.
She stared at him.
"No."
"Now."
It wasn't harsh.
It was urgent.
She saw it then—
Not a stranger.
Not a ghost.
Not a monster.
A man fighting to come back to himself.
The armed men raised their weapons.
Richard adjusted his cuffs.
"You should have stayed buried."
Jack's lips curved into a cold smile.
"No," he said.
"You should have finished the job."
End of Chapter 10