The thirty-third week, Christabel's mother kept her promise.
She came back.
Not with an army.
With a weapon Christabel never saw coming.
The truth about her father's death.
---
The letter arrived on a Monday.
Handwritten. On paper that smelled like expensive perfume.
Christabel recognized the handwriting immediately.
Her mother's.
She opened it in the nursery, while Lena slept in her crib.
My dearest daughter,
You think you know the truth about your father's death. You think he died of a broken heart. You think he couldn't live without me.
You're wrong.
He didn't die of a broken heart. He died because I killed him.
---
Christabel read the words three times.
Her hands were shaking.
Her heart was pounding.
I killed him.
I killed him because he was going to leave me. Because he was going to take you. Because he was going to destroy everything I had built.
I killed him, and I watched him die, and I felt nothing.
That's the kind of person I am.
That's the kind of person you come from.
That's the kind of person you will become.
---
Damien found her in the nursery.
Staring at the letter.
Her face was pale.
"What is it?"
She handed him the letter.
He read it in silence.
His face didn't change.
But his hands tightened around the paper.
"I'm going to kill her," he said.
"No."
"Christabel—"
"No." Her voice was quiet. "She wants us to react. She wants us to be angry. She wants us to make mistakes."
"Then what do we do?"
"We wait."
---
She sat on the floor.
Her back against the crib.
Lena slept above her.
Damien sat beside her.
"Talk to me."
"I don't know what to say."
"Then just sit with me."
They sat in silence.
The city hummed below them.
Lena's breath was soft and steady.
---
"I always wondered," Christabel said finally. "About his death. It didn't make sense. He wasn't sick. He wasn't old. He just... died."
"Now you know."
"Now I know."
"What are you going to do?"
She looked at him.
"I'm going to make her pay."
---
That afternoon, Christabel called Sarah.
"Come to the penthouse."
"What's wrong?"
"Just come."
---
Sarah arrived within the hour.
Christabel handed her the letter.
Sarah read it.
Her face went pale.
"Oh my God."
"She killed him. Our father. She killed him."
"Why?"
"Because he was going to leave her. Because he was going to take us. Because she's a monster."
"What are we going to do?"
Christabel took her sister's hands.
"We're going to stop her."
---
The next few days were a blur.
Christabel didn't sleep.
Didn't eat.
Didn't leave the penthouse.
She just stared at the letter.
Read the words over and over.
I killed him, and I watched him die, and I felt nothing.
That's the kind of person I am.
That's the kind of person you come from.
That's the kind of person you will become.
---
Damien found her in the nursery.
Lena was asleep.
Christabel was sitting on the floor.
"You need to sleep," he said.
"I can't."
"You need to eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"You need to stop reading that letter."
"I can't."
He knelt in front of her.
Took the letter from her hands.
"She's trying to break you."
"It's working."
"No." He touched her face. "She's trying to make you feel alone. But you're not alone. You have me. You have Lena. You have Sarah. You have a family."
"She's my family."
"She's a stranger who shares your blood."
---
Christabel looked at him.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
"It doesn't feel true."
"What does it feel like?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"It feels like I'm drowning."
He pulled her into his arms.
Held her tight.
"Then let me be your air."
---
That night, Christabel 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 becoming a monster," she read. "Until she realized that monsters weren't born. They were made. And she refused to be made."
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 good."
"She's going to be just like you."
"God help the world."
"God help anyone who tries to make her into something she's not."
---
They stood over the crib together.
Lena was asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
"I'm going to stop her," Christabel said.
"I know."
"I'm going to make her pay for what she did."
"I know."
"I'm going to be the one to end this."
He put his arm around her.
"I know."
---
The next morning, Christabel called her mother.
Not through Katerina. Not through intermediaries.
Directly.
"We need to meet."
"I've been waiting for this call."
"Where?"
"The cemetery. Father's grave. Noon."
"Why there?"
"So you can see what you did."
---
Her mother was silent for a moment.
"I'll be there."
---
Christabel hung up.
Damien was standing in the doorway.
"I'm coming with you."
"No."
"Christabel—"
"She needs to see me alone. She needs to see that I'm not afraid."
"Are you?"
She looked at him.
"Terrified."
"Then let me come with you."
"No. This is something I have to do myself."