The car ride home stretched on in uncomfortable silence, long enough for the air to thicken with awkwardness. Harry had disappeared during the gala you’d been attending together, and when you finally tracked him down, you found him in the alley behind the hotel. The memory of the moment is still hazy, but one thing is crystal clear, the sharp bang of the gun and the sickening sight of the blood splattering across Harry’s white shirt.

"You didn’t think all of this came at a price?"

His voice breaks the silence, soft but carrying an undeniable edge of sternness, and it makes your stomach twist.

You’ve lived with Harry in his sprawling estate on the outskirts of London for five years now. He’s spoiled you beyond measure with gifts every night and bouquets of fresh flowers showing up at the door every week. Since you met, you’ve never wanted for anything.

It wasn’t like there hadn’t been signs that something was amiss. But Harry always reassured you that it was just business, printing and laundering money. No one was getting hurt, so you believed him. You accepted it all because you loved him. And when he’d asked you to marry him, you’d said yes without hesitation, thinking you knew what you were signing up for.

But this? This moment is a cold, hard slap in the face. The blood on his shirt, the reality of the life he’s been hiding from you. This feels like a nightmare you can’t wake up from. You don’t know what to say, what to do, and especially not what to think.

"Darling? Please, say something. Say anything."

The desperation in his voice cuts through the tension