The twenty-first week, Isabella's words began to come true.
Not because she was right.
Because Damien's past couldn't stay buried forever.
---
It started with a photograph.
An envelope slid under the door of the penthouse. No return address. No note. Just a photograph.
A woman.
Beautiful. Dark hair. Dark eyes. A smile that looked familiar.
On the back, in handwriting Christabel didn't recognize: Ask him about her.
---
She showed Damien at breakfast.
His face went pale.
"Who is she?" Christabel asked.
"No one."
"That's not no one's face."
"She was someone. A long time ago."
"What happened to her?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"She died."
"How?"
"Because of me."
---
The photograph was just the beginning.
More followed.
Letters. Documents. Records of things Damien had done before Christabel knew him. Before he had tried to be a better man.
Each new piece of information was a small cut.
Each cut made Christabel bleed.
---
"Who is sending these?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"You must have some idea."
"Someone who wants to hurt us."
"Someone who knows about your past."
"Someone who was there."
"Who?"
He looked at her.
"I don't know."
---
That night, she couldn't sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the woman in the photograph.
She died because of me.
What did that mean?
Had he killed her?
Had he let her die?
Had he simply failed to save her?
She needed to know.
But she was afraid to ask.
---
Lena woke at midnight.
Crying. Hungry.
Christabel went to her.
Lifted her from the crib.
"Hi, baby," she said.
Lena cried.
"I know," Christabel said. "You're hungry. You're wet. You're cold. I'm sorry. Mommy's thinking."
Lena stopped crying.
Looked up at her mother.
"Someone is trying to tear our family apart," Christabel said. "Someone who knows your father's past."
Lena cooed.
"I don't know who it is. But I'm going to find out."
---
Damien appeared in the doorway.
"She's up," he said.
"She's hungry."
"I'll make a bottle."
"She wants to nurse."
He walked to her.
Sat on the floor beside the rocking chair.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"For the past. For the woman. For the secrets."
"You didn't know they would come back."
"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 looked at him.
"You're not going to lose me."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm still here."
---
Lena finished nursing.
Fell asleep against Christabel's chest.
"She's out," Christabel said.
"She's perfect."
"She's ours."
Damien stood.
Took Lena from her arms.
Laid her in the crib.
Then he walked back to Christabel.
Took her hand.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"The study."
---
He showed her the files.
Not the ones from the past. The ones from the present.
The investigation he had been running since the first photograph arrived.
"I've been trying to find out who's behind this," he said.
"And?"
"And I think it's someone from inside."
"Inside where?"
"Inside the empire. Someone who knows how we operate. Someone who has access to our lives."
"Someone we trust."
"Yes."
---
She looked at the files.
Names. Photographs. Background checks.
People who had been with them for years. People who had been at their wedding. People who had held their daughter.
"Who?" she asked.
"I don't know yet."
"But you have suspects."
"I have suspects."
"Tell me."
He pointed to a photograph.
A man. Mid-forties. Kind face. Familiar.
"Him?"
"He's been acting strange. Nervous. Avoiding me."
"He's been with you for a decade."
"Longer."
"Why would he betray us?"
"I don't know."
---
The next morning, another envelope.
This time, it was delivered to Christabel's office.
Inside was a letter.
You think you know him. But you don't. No one does. Not really. The man you married is a monster. And monsters always reveal themselves eventually.
She read the letter three times.
Then she called Damien.
"We need to talk."
---
He came to her office.
She showed him the letter.
His face was calm. Too calm.
"He's getting closer," Damien said.
"Who?"
"I don't know. But he's getting closer."
"What does he want?"
"To destroy us."
"Why?"
"Because some people can't stand to see others happy."
---
That afternoon, Christabel went to see Sarah.
Not at the office. At her apartment.
"I need your help," Christabel said.
"With what?"
"Someone is trying to tear my family apart."
"Who?"
"I don't know. But I need you to help me find out."
Sarah took her hand.
"Whatever you need."
---
They spent the afternoon going through the files.
Looking for connections. Looking for patterns. Looking for anyone who might have a reason to hurt Damien and Christabel.
"I don't understand," Sarah said. "Why would anyone want to destroy you? You've been through so much already."
"Some people don't care about what you've been through. They only care about what you have."
"And what do you have?"
Christabel was quiet for a moment.
"Everything."
---
That night, Damien put Lena to bed.
Not Christabel. Him.
He read her a story. Not a baby book. A real story. One of his favorites.
"There was a man who had everything," he read. "Money. Power. A family who loved him. But he couldn't enjoy any of it, because he was always afraid of losing it."
Lena stared at him.
"Bah," she said.
"That's right," he said. "Bah."
---
Christabel was in the doorway.
"She said it again."
"She said it to me."
"She said it to both of us."
He closed the book.
Set it on the nightstand.
"She's going to be a fighter."
"She's going to be just like you."
"God help the world."
"God help anyone who tries to hurt her."
---
They stood over the crib together.
Lena was asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
"I'm scared," Christabel said.
"Of what?"
"Of who's doing this. Of what they might do next. Of what they might take from us."
"No one is going to take anything from us."
"How do you know?"
"Because we won't let them."
---
The next morning, another envelope.
This time, it was delivered to the penthouse while they were eating breakfast.
Christabel opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Damien.
From before.
Standing over a body.
His hands were bloody. His face was cold. His eyes were empty.
On the back: This is the man you married. This is the man who will destroy you.
---
Christabel stared at the photograph.
Damien stood.
Walked to her.
Took the photograph from her hands.
"I remember that night," he said.
"What happened?"
"I killed a man who deserved to die."
"Did he?"
"Yes."
"Who was he?"
"Someone who tried to hurt someone I loved."
"Who?"
He looked at her.
"You.