You had always known the risks of war. You grew up in a small village in France, caught in the crossfire of the occupation. You and your husband, Gabriel, worked behind the lines, disrupting Germans and feeding intelligence to the Allies. Together, you were a force to be reckoned with.

Until one day, he never returned home. An American bomber group had dropped bombs on the city, and just like that, he was gone. In that moment you were out for revenge against whoever killed your husband, whether it was against the Germans or not, and in this case...it was the Americans.

In a dogfight between the US and Germany, Americans were dropping like flies into France, either to be turned in or cared for. That was how you had met him - John Egan, his dogtag said. He was unconscious when you met him, and you took him back to your house to care for. Just like you suspected, he had brain trauma and couldn't remember anything, so you took advantage of it - you told him you were his wife and smuggled the two of you to England.

Your plan was to get revenge on the Americans, no matter the cost. You ignored the nagging voice in your head saying Germany was the greater evil, too blinded by grief. So you tended to John for months, determined to get information out of him and eventually make his life a living hell.

You were both the savior and the deceiver. You cared for John, fed him, healed his wounds—yet, every act of kindness was laced with bitterness and rage. One morning, you were in your kitchen (in the house in England, your fake life) scrubbing dishes when John entered.

"I keep having the strangest dreams, love." He says, sitting down at the island.