The twenty-second week, the truth began to surface.
Not all of it.
Just enough to make them question everything they thought they knew.
---
The photograph of Damien standing over the body was just the beginning.
More followed.
Documents. Recordings. Witness statements.
Each new piece of information was a hammer striking the foundation of their marriage.
And the foundation was starting to crack.
---
"The man in that photograph," Christabel said. "You said he tried to hurt someone I loved."
"Yes."
"Who?"
Damien was quiet for a moment.
"Your sister."
Christabel's blood went cold.
"Sarah?"
"He was following her. Watching her. Planning to take her."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you to be afraid."
"She's my sister."
"I know."
"You should have told me."
"I know."
---
She walked to the window.
Looked out at the city.
"Who else have you killed? For me? Without telling me?"
"A lot of people."
"How many?"
"I stopped counting."
"Damien—"
"I stopped counting because it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was keeping you safe."
"And now?"
"Now I'm afraid that knowing the truth will destroy what I've been trying to protect."
---
The next day, another envelope.
This one contained a recording.
Christabel played it in her office.
Damien's voice. Years ago. Younger. Harder.
"If anyone touches her, I will kill them. I will kill their family. I will kill everyone they've ever loved."
"You can't kill everyone."
"Watch me."
She turned off the recording.
Sat in silence.
The man on that recording was not the man she had married.
But he was the same person.
---
She called Damien.
"Come to my office."
"I'm in a meeting."
"Come to my office."
He was there in twenty minutes.
She played the recording.
His face didn't change.
"That was me," he said.
"I know."
"Before you. Before Lena. Before I knew how to love."
"You sound like a monster."
"I was a monster."
"And now?"
"Now I'm trying to be something else."
---
She walked to him.
Took his hands.
"I need to know everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything. No more secrets. No more protecting me from the truth."
"The truth will hurt you."
"The lies hurt more."
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then he began to talk.
---
He told her about the men he had killed. The women he had destroyed. The empire he had built on blood and fear.
He told her about the night he had met her. About the way she had changed him. About the way he had tried to be someone else.
He told her about the secrets he had kept. The ones he had been afraid to share. The ones that made him wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, convinced that she would leave him if she knew.
"I'm not going to leave you," she said.
"How do you know?"
"Because I've known who you were from the beginning."
"You knew what I did. Not who I was."
"What's the difference?"
"What I did was survival. Who I was is someone who didn't care about anything."
"And now?"
"Now I care about everything. About you. About Lena. About the family we've built."
"That's not a monster."
"It's not."
"That's a man who learned how to love."
---
That night, she put Lena to bed.
Not Damien. Her.
She read her daughter a story. Not a baby book. A real story. One of her favorites.
"There was a woman who was afraid of the truth," she read. "Until she realized that the truth couldn't hurt her. Only lies could."
Lena stared at her.
"Bah," she said.
"That's right," Christabel said. "Bah."
---
Damien was in the doorway.
"She said it again."
"She said it to me."
"She said it to both of us."
She closed the book.
Set it on the nightstand.
"She's going to be honest."
"She's going to be just like you."
"God help the world."
"God help anyone who tries to lie to her."
---
They stood over the crib together.
Lena was asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
"I'm sorry," Damien said.
"For what?"
"For the secrets. For the lies. For not trusting you with the truth."
"I forgive you."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Why?"
"Because you're my husband. Because you're the father of my daughter. Because you're trying to be better."
"I am trying."
"I know."
---
The next morning, another envelope.
This one was different.
Not addressed to Christabel.
To Damien.
Inside was a single sentence.
You can't protect her from the past. The past is already here.
Damien read the words.
Then he burned the letter.
Watched the flames consume the paper.
"What did it say?" Christabel asked.
"Nothing important."
"You're lying."
"I'm protecting."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
She walked to him.
Took his hands.
"We said no more secrets."
"This isn't a secret. This is a threat."
"From who?"
"I don't know."
"Then we find out. Together."
---
They spent the morning on the phone.
Calling contacts. Calling allies. Calling people who owed them favors.
No one knew anything.
No one had seen anything.
No one was willing to help.
"Someone is protecting them," Christabel said.
"Someone inside."
"Someone we trust."
"Yes."
---
That afternoon, Sarah came over.
She brought lunch. And news.
"I found something," Sarah said.
"What?"
"A name. On one of the documents. Someone who shouldn't be there."
"Who?"
Sarah handed her a photograph.
Christabel stared.
"It's Marcus."
"Your Marcus?"
"My Marcus."
"Why would he be involved?"
"I don't know."
---
Damien took the photograph.
His face was calm. Too calm.
"Marcus," he said.
"He's the one sending the letters?"
"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."