The twentieth week, the past came calling again.
Not Marcus.
Someone else.
Someone who knew Damien before Christabel.
Someone who wanted to tear them apart.
---
Her name was Isabella.
She was beautiful. Tall. Blonde. The kind of beautiful that made people turn their heads on the street.
She had been Damien's lover. Before Christabel. Before Lena. Before the empire had a heart.
She had been his partner in the darkness. The woman who stood beside him when he was nothing but a monster.
And now she was back.
---
She appeared at a business event.
Not invited. Not welcome. Just there.
Christabel saw her first.
Across the room. Standing by the bar. Watching Damien with eyes that knew him in ways Christabel didn't want to think about.
"Who is that?" Christabel asked.
Damien followed her gaze.
His face went pale.
"Isabella."
"Your Isabella?"
"She's not mine."
"She was."
"That was a long time ago."
---
Isabella walked toward them.
Her heels clicked on the marble floor. Her dress was red. Her smile was sharp.
"Damien," she said.
"Isabella."
"It's been a long time."
"Not long enough."
She laughed.
The sound was cold.
"You haven't changed."
"Neither have you."
She turned to Christabel.
"You must be the wife."
"I must be."
"I've heard so much about you."
"All good things, I hope."
Isabella smiled.
"All interesting things."
---
The evening was tense.
Isabella stayed close. Too close. She found reasons to touch Damien's arm. To laugh at his jokes. To remind him of nights Christabel knew nothing about.
Christabel watched.
She didn't interfere.
She didn't need to.
Damien's eyes never left his wife.
But something was wrong.
Something had shifted.
---
On the drive home, Christabel asked the question she had been avoiding.
"What was she to you?"
Damien was quiet for a moment.
"Someone I used when I didn't know how to love."
"Did you love her?"
"No."
"Did she love you?"
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
"Because I never asked."
---
They sat in silence.
The city lights flickered past the windows.
"Why is she back?" Christabel asked.
"I don't know."
"You must have some idea."
"She wants something."
"What?"
"Me. Money. Revenge. I don't know."
"Are you afraid of her?"
He looked at her.
"I'm afraid of what she might do."
"To you?"
"To us."
---
The next morning, Isabella called.
Not Damien. Christabel.
"We need to talk," Isabella said.
"About what?"
"About Damien. About the past. About the things he hasn't told you."
"There's nothing he hasn't told me."
Isabella laughed.
The sound was cold.
"You really believe that?"
"I know my husband."
"You know the man he wants you to see. Not the man he really is."
"And you know the real him?"
"I knew him before you. I knew him when he was nothing but darkness. I knew him when he didn't pretend to be good."
"What do you want, Isabella?"
"To meet. Just the two of us. No Damien. No lies. Just the truth."
---
Christabel didn't tell Damien.
Not because she was hiding something. Because she needed to know the truth for herself.
She met Isabella at a hotel bar.
Neutral ground. Public. Safe.
Isabella was already there. Drinking something pink. Watching the door.
"You came," Isabella said.
"I came."
"Sit."
Christabel sat.
"What do you want?"
"To warn you."
"About what?"
"About him." Isabella set down her glass. "About the man you married. About the things he's capable of."
"I know what he's capable of."
"Do you?" Isabella leaned forward. "Do you know about the woman before me? The one he killed?"
---
Christabel's blood went cold.
"What?"
"There was someone. Before me. He loved her. Or thought he did. When she tried to leave, he wouldn't let her."
"What happened?"
"She disappeared." Isabella smiled. "Just like everyone who crosses him."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" Isabella sat back. "Ask him. See what he says. See if he tells you the truth."
"He'll tell me the truth."
"Will he? He's been lying to you since the day you met. About the bodies. About the basement. About the son he couldn't protect."
"How do you know about his son?"
"Because I was there." Isabella's voice was cold. "I was there when he got the news. I was there when he fell apart. I was there when he put himself back together without anyone's help."
---
Christabel stood.
"I'm leaving."
"Sit down."
"I'm not going to sit here and listen to you lie about my husband."
"I'm not lying." Isabella's voice was quiet. "I'm telling you the truth. The truth you've been afraid to hear. The truth that's been hiding in the shadows of your perfect life."
"There are no shadows."
"Every life has shadows. Even yours. Especially yours."
---
Christabel sat back down.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to know who you married."
"I already know."
"You know the man he is now. Not the man he was."
"The man he was is dead."
"No." Isabella shook her head. "He's just hiding. Waiting. And sooner or later, he's going to come out. And when he does, he's going to destroy everything you've built."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because someone should."
"Who sent you?"
"No one sent me. I came on my own. Because I couldn't stand by and watch another woman be destroyed by him."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
---
Christabel stood again.
This time, she didn't sit back down.
"If you contact me again, I will tell Damien."
"Tell him. See what happens."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be." Isabella smiled. "I'm not the one you should be afraid of."
---
Christabel drove home in silence.
Her hands were shaking.
Her heart was pounding.
Damien was waiting in the living room.
"How was your meeting?" he asked.
"How did you know I had a meeting?"
"I know everything."
"Then you know I met with Isabella."
He was quiet for a moment.
"Yes."
"And you didn't try to stop me?"
"I knew you needed to hear what she had to say."
"She said you killed someone. A woman. Before her."
Damien's face didn't change.
"I didn't kill her."
"What happened to her?"
"She left. Disappeared. I don't know where she went."
"Do you believe that?"
"I believe that she's alive. Somewhere. Living a life that doesn't include me."
---
Christabel walked to him.
Took his hands.
"Isabella is lying."
"About some things."
"About what?"
"About me. About who I am. About what I'm capable of."
"And what are you capable of?"
He looked at her.
"Anything. To protect you. To protect Lena. To protect our family."
"Even killing?"
"Even killing."
---
She pulled him into her arms.
Held him tight.
"I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be."
"I'm not."
"Why not?"
"Because you're mine. And I'm yours. And nothing Isabella says can change that."
---
That night, they didn't sleep.
They talked.
About Isabella. About the past. About the woman who claimed to know Damien better than Christabel did.
"She doesn't know you," Christabel said.
"She knows parts of me."
"What parts?"
"The parts I'm not proud of."
"The parts I know about."
"Not all of them."
"Then tell me."
---
He told her.
About the woman who disappeared. About the son who died. About the man he used to be.
"When you're done," Christabel said, "I'll still be here."
"How do you know?"
"Because I love you."
"Even after everything?"
"Especially after everything."
---
The next morning, Isabella was gone.
No message. No call. No trace.
She had disappeared.
Just like she had said.
But her words lingered.
The man he was is just hiding. Waiting. And sooner or later, he's going to come out.
Christabel stood in the nursery.
Lena was sleeping.
"Your father has a past," Christabel whispered. "A dark one. Darker than I knew."
Lena didn't stir.
"But I'm not afraid. Because I have a past too. And we're both trying to be better."
She touched Lena's cheek.
"For you."