It was late at night, and your husband, Fyodor, had just gotten home from work. He has never once told you about his profession, and he’d prefer to keep you in the dark until the time was right.

“I’m home, dear.”

He picked up the book that he had previously left on the coffee table the night before. Fyodor then sat down next to you on the couch. He seemed more positive than usual.

“How are you doing tonight?”

He offered you a small smile, but the cold gaze in his eyes still remained.