The thirteenth week, the war began in earnest.
Not with a battle.
With a betrayal.
And the person who betrayed them was closer than they ever imagined.
---
It started with a phone call.
Christabel was in her office. The sun was setting over the city. She was reviewing the final documents for the Kline acquisition. Everything was in place. The votes were secured. The money was ready. Victory was hours away.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She almost didn't answer.
"Christabel Vance."
"Ms. Vance." The voice was familiar. Warm. The voice of someone she had trusted. "We need to talk."
"Who is this?"
"Someone who knows the truth about your husband."
---
Her blood went cold.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." The voice was calm. Patient. "The bodies. The basement. The people who disappeared. I know about all of it."
"Who are you?"
"Someone who helped him. Someone who cleaned up the messes. Someone who has evidence that would put him away for the rest of his life."
Christabel stood.
Walked to the window.
"What do you want?"
"I want to meet."
"Where?"
"The old warehouse. The one on the east side. Midnight. Come alone."
The line went dead.
---
She didn't tell Damien.
Not because she didn't trust him.
Because she needed to know the truth for herself.
She drove to the warehouse alone.
No guards. No weapons. No backup.
The building was dark. Abandoned. The kind of place where people went to disappear.
She walked through the door.
And found Marco waiting.
---
"Marco."
"Christabel."
"You're the one who called?"
"I'm the one who knows the truth."
She walked toward him.
Stopped a few feet away.
"What truth?"
"The truth about Damien. About the things he's done. About the people he's killed."
"I know what he's done."
"Do you?" Marco stepped closer. "Do you know about the man who asked too many questions? The one whose fingers Damien broke one by one?"
"I was there."
"Do you know about the woman who tried to blackmail him? The one who disappeared?"
"I assumed."
"Do you know about the child?"
---
Christabel went still.
"What child?"
Marco's face was pale.
"Before you. Before Lena. There was someone else. A woman. A child."
"What are you talking about?"
"Damien had a son. A boy. He was three years old when he died."
Christabel's heart stopped.
"How?"
"An enemy. Someone who wanted to hurt Damien. They killed the boy. Killed the mother. Left Damien with nothing."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because he never told you. Because he's been lying to you since the day you met. Because the man you married is not the man you think he is."
---
Christabel was quiet for a long moment.
The warehouse was cold. The walls were damp. Somewhere in the distance, a train rumbled.
"Why now?" she asked.
"Why now what?"
"Why are you telling me this now? After everything? After the wedding? After Lena?"
Marco looked at her.
"Because I'm tired of cleaning up his messes. Because I'm tired of protecting him. Because I'm tired of watching him pretend to be something he's not."
"He's not pretending."
"He is." Marco stepped closer. "He's pretending to be a husband. A father. A good man. But he's not any of those things. He's a killer. A monster. And sooner or later, he's going to hurt you too."
---
She should have been angry.
Should have yelled. Should have stormed out. Should have driven home and told Damien everything.
Instead, she asked a question.
"What do you want, Marco?"
"I want out."
"Out of what?"
"The life. The lies. The bodies. I want to disappear. I want to start over. I want to never see Damien Moreau again."
"Then why are you here? Why didn't you just leave?"
"Because I need your help."
"My help?"
"Money. Resources. A new identity. Things you can give me that he won't."
---
She looked at him.
The man who had been at her wedding. The man who had held her daughter. The man who had smiled and said all the right things.
"You're betraying him."
"I'm saving myself."
"You're betraying us."
"I'm sorry."
"No." She shook her head. "You're not sorry. You're scared. There's a difference."
"Then help me."
"Why would I help someone who's trying to destroy my family?"
"Because if you don't, I'll go to the press. I'll tell them everything. The bodies. The basement. The son he couldn't protect."
"You'll destroy yourself too."
"I don't care."
---
She stared at him.
"You would do that? You would tear apart our family? You would put Lena at risk?"
Marco's face softened.
"I don't want to."
"Then don't."
"I don't have a choice."
"Everyone has a choice."
"Not me."
"Why not?"
"Because he'll kill me."
"Who?"
"Damien." Marco's voice cracked. "The moment he finds out I talked to you, he'll kill me. And he'll make sure I suffer first."
---
Christabel was quiet.
The warehouse was silent.
"Then leave," she said.
"What?"
"Leave. Tonight. Disappear. Don't tell anyone where you're going. Don't ask for my help. Just go."
"And if he comes after me?"
"He won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because I won't let him."
---
Marco looked at her.
"You would protect me? After everything I just told you?"
"I would protect my family." She stepped closer. "And you're not part of my family anymore."
"I never was."
"No." She walked to the door. "You weren't."
---
She drove home in silence.
The city was dark. The streets were empty.
Damien was waiting in the living room.
"You're late," he said.
"I know."
"Where were you?"
She sat beside him.
Took his hand.
"I need to ask you something."
"Anything."
"Did you have a son?"
---
The color drained from his face.
"How do you know about that?"
"Marco told me."
"Marco?"
"He called me. Asked me to meet him. Told me everything."
Damien stood.
Walked to the window.
"I'm going to kill him."
"No." She stood. Walked to him. "You're not."
"He betrayed us."
"He's scared."
"He's a liability."
"He's human."
Damien turned to face her.
"He told you about my son."
"Yes."
"He told you about how he died."
"Yes."
"He told you that I couldn't protect him."
"Yes."
Damien's voice cracked.
"And you still came home?"
She touched his face.
"I came home because you're my husband. Because you're the father of my daughter. Because you're the man I love."
"Even after everything Marco told you?"
"Especially after everything Marco told you."
---
He pulled her into his arms.
Held her tight.
"I should have told you."
"Yes."
"I should have told you a long time ago."
"Yes."
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of losing you."
She pulled back.
Looked at him.
"You're not going to lose me."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm still here."
---
They sat on the couch.
The city was dark. The room was quiet.
Damien told her about his son.
About the boy's name. About the boy's mother. About the way they had died.
"I wasn't there," he said. "I was working. Building the empire. I thought they were safe."
"They weren't."
"No." His voice was hollow. "They weren't."
"And now?"
"Now I have you. Now I have Lena. Now I have something to lose."
"That's why you're so afraid."
"Yes."
"That's why you hold on so tight."
"Yes."
She took his hand.
"You don't have to hold on so tight anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not going anywhere."
---
That night, they didn't sleep.
They talked.
About the past. About the future. About the son he had lost and the daughter he was terrified of losing.
"I don't want to be like this," Damien said. "Afraid all the time. Waiting for something bad to happen."
"Then stop waiting."
"How?"
"By living." She touched his face. "By being here. By trusting that we're going to be okay."
"What if we're not?"
"Then we'll figure it out. Together."
---
The next morning, Marco was gone.
No note. No message. No trace.
He had disappeared.
Just like he had wanted.
Damien stood in the empty office that used to be Marco's.
"He's gone," Christabel said.
"He's smart."
"He's scared."
"He's alive."
She walked to him.
"Are you going to go after him?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he didn't take anything that mattered."
"What about the evidence? The things he said he had?"
Damien smiled.
"There is no evidence."
"What?"
"I lied to him. Years ago. Told him I kept records. Told him I had files. I didn't."
"You lied to your own people?"
"I lied to everyone." He looked at her. "Except you."