The silence in Dieter’s lab was thick enough to feel like a physical weight. Klaus was slumped in a chair, finally passed out. Anja stood by the door, her arms crossed so tightly it was a wonder her ribs didn’t crack. She looked smaller, stripped of the armor of her confidence. Charles was on his phone, his voice a low, steady murmur as he directed his security team, arranging for Klaus to be discreetly moved to a private rehabilitation facility. He was cleaning up the mess, his movements efficient and absolute.

I stood by the workbench, my phone clutched in my hand. The screen was dark, but I could still see the words as if they were burned onto the glass. Nice save. But the game isn’t over. It’s just getting interesting. Anja, Lacroix, and the board. They were all players I could see, opponents on a board I was beginning to understand. But this... this was something else. This was a ghost in the machine, a voice from the shadows who was watching us, evaluating us, and enjoying the show.

I felt a pair of eyes on me and looked up. Charles had ended his call. He was standing across the room, watching me. He wasn’t looking at my phone, but at my face. He saw the tension there, the way my shoulders were knotted. He knew something had landed and the game had changed.

He walked over to Anja, his expression unreadable. "You’re in charge now," he said, his voice flat. "You’ll report to me directly. Every morning. No more secrets, Anja. No more solo runs. You do this my way, or you don’t do it at all."

She just nodded, her gaze fixed on the floor. There was no fight left in her.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper that I could barely hear from across the room. "And let me be perfectly clear. If I get even a hint that you’re hiding something again, that you’re working your own agenda, I won’t just fire you. I will liquidate this entire operation. I’ll take the prototype, transfer it to my main R&D division back home, and watch this factory you love so much get torn down and sold for scrap. Do you understand me?"

Anja flinched as if he’d struck her. She nodded again, a quick, jerky motion, her face pale.

Finally, Charles came to stand beside me. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just looked at me, as if he were weighing something, measuring my reaction to the night’s chaos.

"We’re leaving," he said, his voice quiet.

"Home?" I asked, correcting myself before he could.

"Yes," he said. "Home."

He pulled out his phone again and made another call. "Lisa. Cancel the jet. Book us two tickets on the first commercial flight home. Business class. Under the name Smith." He paused. "Yes, Smith. It’s time we were a little less conspicuous."

The next thing I knew, we were standing in the arrivals hall of our home airport. The familiar scent of recycled air and floor cleaner filled my lungs. We were just two more faces in the crowd, two businessmen in suits returning from a trip. No one gave us a second look. It was both a relief and a strange kind of letdown.

We collected our bags from the carousel, the mundane task feeling strangely surreal after everything that had happened. We were waiting for the last of our luggage to appear when Charles’s driver, a stoic man named Thomas, approached us.

"Mr. Damien," he said, his voice neutral. "The car is ready."

Charles nodded. "Good."

Thomas hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to me. "There was... a delivery for you, sir. At the house. It arrived while you were away."

Charles frowned. "From who?"

"From a law firm," Thomas said. "They said it was important. It’s in the study."

We followed Thomas out to the car. The ride to the house was quiet, the city lights blurring past the windows. I could feel the tension radiating from Charles, a low, constant hum of energy. He was already thinking, already planning, already trying to figure out what this new development meant.

We pulled up to the house, and the moment we stepped inside, I could feel it. The air was different. It was thicker, charged with a kind of anticipation that made the hair on my arms stand up.

Charles walked straight to his study. I followed him, my heart pounding in my chest. The room was exactly as he’d left it, but there was a large, manila envelope sitting in the center of his desk. It was plain, unmarked, and official-looking.

Charles picked it up. He didn’t open it right away. He just held it, weighing it in his hand.

Then he ripped open the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. It was a legal document. I stepped closer, standing just behind his shoulder, my eyes scanning the page. It was a marriage certificate. Charles’s name was there. And next to it, a woman’s name I didn’t recognize. And at the bottom, a line of text that made my blood run cold.

CERTIFICATE OF DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE

But next to it, another document. A note from the law firm. Mr. Damien, our office was unable to process the final dissolution. As per the clause in your original prenuptial agreement regarding separation, the marriage is still legally binding until both parties are present for the final hearing. Your wife has been trying to contact you.

Charles stood perfectly still. I watched his shoulders, waiting for a reaction, a flinch, anything. There was nothing. He just stared at the paper, his face unreadable, a statue carved from ice. He absorbed the information, processed it, and filed it away with the same chilling efficiency he applied to everything else.

My own world, however, was shattering. The air rushed from my lungs. My entire mission, my entire reason for being here, was built on getting close to him, on understanding him, on finding a crack in his armor. But this... this was a foundation I never knew existed. A wife. A legally binding marriage. It changed everything. It was a secret so big it redefined the man standing in front of me.

The name of the woman on the certificate blurred in my vision. All I could see was the word next to his name. Wife.

The question tore out of me before I could stop it, my voice a choked, disbelieving whisper.

"Charles... you’re married?"