Chapter 7
Jessamine did not know about Theo.
That mattered.
When I told her, she stared at her father.
We had brought her to Edmund’s house later that morning.
No audience.
No humiliation.
Truth required less theater than she had used on Piers.
“You knew?”
Edmund looked at her.
“I knew there was danger.”
“You let his driver die?”
“No.”
He answered sharply.
“I didn’t know that would happen.”
Different.
Important.
Jessamine cried.
Not because Theo meant much to her.
Because her father’s moral story had cracked.
For years, Edmund told her:
I sacrificed everything to save Leopold.
Simpler.
Cleaner.
Enough to build identity around.
Reality:
He hesitated.
Protected himself.
Then ultimately did the right thing.
Too late for one man.
In time for another.
Messy.
Jessamine asked:
“Then why did Leopold protect us?”
I answered.
“Because he still warned me.”
She looked at me.
“You knew?”
“Not all of it.”
Then I looked at Edmund.
“And neither of you understood what the favor was.”
Jessamine touched her engagement ring.
Her hand shook.
“What happens to Father?”
Edmund watched me too.
There it was.
The old structure.
One man decides.
Everyone waits.
I disliked it more now.
“Protection ends in its current form.”
Jessamine inhaled sharply.
Edmund said nothing.
I continued.
“No immediate exposure. No crews handed his address. No revenge invited.”
That would be theatrical cruelty.
“But my guards leave in thirty days.”
Edmund’s jaw tightened.
“You’re killing me slowly.”
“No.”
“You know what they’ll do.”
“I know what you believe they’ll do.”
Then:
“You have thirty days to build a life that doesn’t depend on my name frightening everyone.”
He stared.
For the first time in seven years, Edmund looked like a man rather than a protected asset.
Jessamine whispered:
“And us?”
I looked at her.
May you like
“There is no us until you answer for what you did.”
The ring suddenly looked very heavy.
