Christabel proved she was just as dangerous as Damien.
Not with words.
With actions.
And the world finally understood why they were meant for each other.
---
It started with a photograph.
Not of Lena. Not of Damien. Of Christabel.
A photograph from her past. The one she had buried. The one she had hoped would never surface.
She was young. Nineteen. Fresh out of college. Standing over a body.
The body of a man who had tried to hurt her.
The body of a man who had failed.
The photograph arrived in an envelope. No return address. No note. Just the image.
Christabel stared at it.
Her hands were steady.
Her face was calm.
Inside, her heart was pounding.
---
Damien found her in the study.
"What is it?"
She handed him the photograph.
His face didn't change.
But his eyes went dark.
"Who sent this?"
"I don't know."
"Someone who wants to hurt you."
"Someone who wants to control me."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
He sat beside her.
"Tell me about the man."
"His name was Viktor. Not Volkov. Someone else. He followed me home from work. For weeks. I didn't notice at first."
"But then?"
"Then he tried to take me."
"What happened?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"I happened."
---
He took her hand.
"Did you kill him?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"The same way I killed the man in the garden. With my bare hands."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I was ashamed."
"Of what?"
"Of being capable of that. Before you. Before Lena. Before I knew who I was."
He pulled her into his arms.
"You're not ashamed. You're human."
"I'm a killer."
"You're a survivor."
---
The next morning, another photograph arrived.
This time, it was of Damien.
Younger. Harder. Standing over a body Christabel didn't recognize.
The envelope contained a note.
You think you know each other. But you don't. No one does. Not really. The people you married are monsters. And monsters always reveal themselves eventually.
Christabel read the note three times.
Then she called Damien.
"We have a problem."
---
He came home within the hour.
She showed him the photograph.
His face was calm. Too calm.
"That was years ago."
"Who is he?"
"Someone who deserved to die."
"Who sent this?"
"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."
"How?"
"The same way we find everyone. By following the money."
---
The investigation took a week.
Cole's team traced the photographs to a shell company. The shell company traced to a holding company. The holding company traced to a name.
Adrian.
Christabel stared at the screen.
"Adrian?"
"Your Adrian?"
"He's not mine."
"He was."
"He's no one."
"He's someone who wants to destroy you."
---
She called him.
No answer.
She called again.
No answer.
She called a third time.
"Christabel."
"Adrian."
"I was wondering when you'd call."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because you rejected me."
"I rejected you years ago."
"And now I'm reminding you what happens when you say no to me."
"You're threatening me?"
"I'm warning you."
---
She hung up.
Her hands were shaking.
Damien was beside her.
"What did he say?"
"He's angry. He's threatened. He's going to try to destroy us."
"Then we destroy him first."
"How?"
"We find his weakness."
"And if he doesn't have one?"
"Everyone has a weakness."
---
The next few days were a blur.
Research. Surveillance. Interviews.
Cole's team worked around the clock.
They found something.
"Adrian has a daughter," Cole said. "From his second marriage. She's fifteen. She lives with her mother in Europe."
"Where?"
"A small town in Switzerland. The same town where Anna used to live."
Christabel's blood went cold.
"Coincidence?"
"No."
"Then we find her."
---
It took three days.
Nyra tracked the girl to a boarding school outside Geneva.
Her name was Sophie. She was fifteen. She had no idea who her father really was.
Christabel called Adrian.
"I know about Sophie."
"What about her?"
"She's beautiful. Innocent. Unaware."
"Don't touch her."
"I won't. But I need you to understand something."
"What?"
"If you come after my family again, I will tell her everything. About you. About your past. About the people you've hurt."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
---
The line went silent.
Then, "This isn't over."
"Yes, it is."
"I'll be back."
"No." Christabel's voice was cold. "You won't."
"Why not?"
"Because if you come back, I'll destroy you. Not your reputation. Not your business. You. I'll destroy you."
"You're bluffing."
"I don't bluff."
---
She hung up.
Damien was in the doorway.
"It's done?"
"It's done."
"He's not going to go away."
"I know."
"He's going to find another way in."
"Then we'll be ready."
---
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 threatened by a ghost from her past," she read. "But she wasn't afraid. Because she had faced worse. Because she had survived worse. Because she had love."
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 fierce."
"She's going to be just like you."
"God help the world."
"God help anyone who tries to threaten her."
---
They stood over the crib together.
Lena was asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
"We won today," Christabel said.
"We survived today."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
"What happens tomorrow?"
"We prepare."
"For what?"
"For the next threat."