The thirty-fourth week, Christabel stood at her father's grave.
Beside the woman who killed him.
And she made a choice that would echo through the rest of their lives.
---
The cemetery was quiet.
The trees were bare. The sky was gray.
Her father's headstone was small. Simple. The kind of marker that spoke of a life lived without fanfare.
Jonathan Vance. Beloved Father. Rest in Peace.
Christabel knelt.
Touched the stone.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't know. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry I believed her."
---
Her mother stood behind her.
"You always believed me."
"Because you were my mother."
"And now?"
"Now you're nothing."
Her mother laughed.
The sound was cold.
"I'm the woman who gave you life."
"You're the woman who took his."
---
Christabel stood.
Turned to face her mother.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you kill him?"
Her mother was quiet for a moment.
"Because he was going to take you from me."
"He was going to take us because you were destroying our family."
"I was building something."
"You were destroying everything."
---
Her mother stepped closer.
"I loved him."
"You killed him."
"I loved him more than anything."
"You killed him."
"I loved him so much I couldn't let him go."
"So you murdered him."
"So I kept him."
---
Christabel's hands clenched into fists.
"He's dead."
"He's with me. Always. In my heart. In my memory. In everything I do."
"He's dead because of you."
"He's dead because I loved him."
"That's not love."
"It's the only love I know."
---
They stood in silence.
The wind blew through the trees.
Somewhere in the distance, a bird called.
"What do you want?" Christabel asked.
"I want you to understand."
"Understand what?"
"Why I did what I did."
"I understand."
"Do you?"
"You're a monster."
"I'm a survivor."
"You're a monster."
"We're the same, you and I."
---
Christabel stepped closer.
"We're nothing alike."
"We're exactly alike."
"I have a family. A husband. A daughter. People who love me."
"I had those things."
"You destroyed them."
"I protected myself."
"You destroyed yourself."
---
Her mother's face hardened.
"I'm not destroyed."
"You're standing at the grave of the man you murdered. Alone. With no one to mourn you when you die."
"I have you."
"You have nothing."
"I have you."
"You have nothing."
---
Her mother reached out.
Touched Christabel's face.
"You look like him."
"Don't touch me."
"You have his eyes."
"Don't touch me."
"You have his stubbornness."
Christabel stepped back.
"I'm not him."
"No." Her mother dropped her hand. "You're not. You're weaker."
"I'm stronger."
"You're weaker. You let love control you. You let emotion guide you. You let your husband and your daughter dictate your choices."
"They don't dictate. They inspire."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
Her mother laughed.
"You sound like him."
"I am nothing like him."
"You're exactly like him. That's why I'm going to win."
"How?"
"Because I know you. Because I know your weaknesses. Because I know what you're going to do before you do it."
"You don't know me."
"I know you better than you know yourself."
---
Christabel was quiet for a moment.
The wind blew.
The trees swayed.
"You're wrong," Christabel said finally.
"About what?"
"About me. About who I am. About what I'm capable of."
"I've watched you your whole life."
"You've watched from a distance. You don't know me."
"I know you."
"You know the idea of me. The version of me that lives in your head. The one you created to justify your choices."
---
Her mother's face flickered.
"I created you."
"You gave birth to me. You didn't create me. I created myself."
"With my money."
"With my hands."
"With my connections."
"With my vision."
---
Her mother stepped closer.
"I can destroy you."
"You can try."
"I can take everything from you."
"You can try."
"I can make you suffer."
Christabel looked at her mother.
"You already have."
---
Her mother's eyes widened.
Just for a moment.
Then the mask returned.
"This isn't over."
"Yes, it is."
"I'll be back."
"No." Christabel's voice was quiet. "You won't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not going to let you."
---
Her mother laughed.
"You think you can stop me?"
"I know I can."
"How?"
"Because I'm not afraid of you anymore."
---
Her mother stared at her.
For a moment-just a moment-Christabel saw something flicker in her eyes.
Fear.
Then it was gone.
"You're making a mistake."
"I'm making a choice."
"You'll regret this."
"I'll regret letting you live."
---
Christabel turned.
Walked away from the grave.
Away from her mother.
Away from the past.
---
"Christabel."
She stopped.
Didn't turn around.
"I loved you," her mother said. "I loved you more than anything."
"You loved yourself more."
"I loved you."
"You loved what I could give you."
---
Christabel walked to the car.
Damien was waiting.
"It's done," she said.
"Is it?"
"She's gone."
"For now."
"She won't be back."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm not going to let her."
---
They drove home in silence.
The city was gray.
The streets were empty.
Lena was awake. The nanny was holding her.
Christabel took her daughter.
Pressed her face to Lena's soft hair.
"It's over," she whispered.
Lena cooed.
"I saw her. At his grave. I told her I wasn't afraid anymore."
Lena grabbed her finger.
Held on tight.
"I'm not afraid of anything. Because I have you."
---
Damien appeared in the doorway.
"She's awake," 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.
"Are you okay?"
"I will be."
"She's gone?"
"She's gone."
"For good?"
"I don't know."
---
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 garden."
---
They sat on the bench beneath the tree.
The city was dark. The stars were bright.
"It's over," Christabel said.
"The war?"
"The destruction."
"What comes next?"
She looked at him.
"Rebuilding."