Chapter 29 29
Damon's POV
I sat at my desk in the dim light of my study. Axel stood in front of me. He held a thick file in his hands. His jaw was tight. His shoulders were stiff.
I could feel his tension from across the desk. Something was wrong.
"Report," I said. My voice came out flat. Cold.
Axel shifted his weight. He looked uncomfortable. That alone told me something big was coming.
In all the years Axel had worked for me, I'd rarely seen him nervous. He'd delivered news about assassinations, betrayals, federal investigations. He never flinched.
But right now? Right now he looked like he was standing in front of a firing squad.
"Sir," Axel said. He cleared his throat. "Your wife isn't just some ordinary girl from the foster system."
My hand froze halfway to my coffee cup. Ice flooded through my chest.
So I was right. Scarlett was hiding something.
I leaned back in my chair slowly. Kept my face blank. My mind was already running through scenarios. Was she a spy? An assassin? Someone sent to get close to me?
"Continue," I said. My voice dropped even colder.
Axel swallowed hard. I watched his Adam's apple bob. Watched the sweat forming at his hairline.
"The background check came back," he said. "Everything she told you checks out. The foster care system in Montana. The YMCA self-defense classes. The retired military instructor. All of it."
I stared at him. The words didn't make sense at first.
"What?" I said.
"She's clean, sir. Completely clean. Her story is true."
Axel stepped forward. Set the file on my desk. "I had my team verify everything twice. Three times actually. We contacted people in Montana. Talked to staff at the YMCA. Found the instructor who taught those classes. He remembers her."
I didn't move. Didn't reach for the file. Just kept looking at Axel.
"You're telling me she learned to break a titanium door handle in a free self-defense class at the YMCA."
"Yes sir."
"And the perfect choke hold. The combat reflexes. All of that came from free community classes."
"Yes sir. The instructor was a former Army Ranger. He didn't mess around with his teaching methods. According to him, Scarlett was his best student. Natural talent combined with dedication."
I was silent for a long moment.
Then I reached for the file. Opened it.
The first page was a photo. Scarlett at maybe seventeen years old. She was in a gym. Wearing workout clothes. Her hair was pulled back. Sweat dripped down her face. Her eyes were focused and determined.
She looked young. Fierce. I turned the page. More photos. More documentation.
YMCA enrollment records. Class schedules. Attendance sheets with her signature. Letters of recommendation from the instructor praising her dedication and skill.
"The program was specifically for at-risk youth," Axel said. His voice was calmer now. More professional. "Kids in foster care. Kids from dangerous homes. The YMCA partnered with local law enforcement to provide free self-defense training."
I kept reading. The words started to blur together.
"Scarlett attended classes three times a week for two years," Axel continued. "The instructor wanted to recommend her for a career in personal security. He thought she had real potential."
I stopped on another photo. Scarlett demonstrating a defensive move. Her form was perfect. Her instructor stood behind her, nodding in approval.
"What happened?" I asked. My voice was quiet now. "Why didn't she pursue it?"
"Her foster parents died in a car accident. She was eighteen. The system aged her out. She had to support herself. She took whatever jobs she could find."
Axel paused. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "She could have been a professional bodyguard, sir. If things had been different. If she'd had the resources. The support. But she didn't."
I closed the file slowly. Set it down on my desk.
My mind felt strange. Empty and full at the same time.
For days, I'd been building a case against her. Collecting evidence of deception. Preparing myself for betrayal.
I'd been so sure. The door handle. The choke hold. The way she moved sometimes when she thought no one was watching.
All of it pointed to something darker. Something dangerous.
But I was wrong.
I looked at the closed file on my desk. At the photo of young Scarlett visible through the translucent cover page.
She'd told me the truth. That night in my bedroom. When I'd asked where she learned to fight. She'd looked me straight in the eye and told me about the YMCA classes.
And I hadn't believed her.
I raised my eyes to Axel. "You're certain? All of this is verified?"
"Yes sir. We checked with multiple sources. Cross-referenced everything. The YMCA still has her records. The instructor is retired now but he remembered her immediately when we contacted him. Said she was one of the most dedicated students he ever taught."
I nodded slowly. The absurdity of it all hit me suddenly.
I thought about Scarlett. Her small frame. Her soft hands. The way she curled up on the couch with her phone.
The idea of her as a professional bodyguard seemed ridiculous.
But the evidence was right in front of me. I leaned back in my chair. The leather creaked softly.
"We even confirmed her coffee shop employment," Axel added. "She's been working there for three months. Shows up on time every shift. Never calls in sick. Her manager had nothing but good things to say about her."
The tight knot in my chest started to loosen. The cold suspicion that had been eating at me for days began to melt away.
She wasn't lying. She wasn't hiding anything.
She was exactly who she said she was.
"Enough," I said. My voice came out quieter than I intended. "Stop the investigation."
"Sir?"
"I said stop. Close the file. Archive everything. We're done looking into my wife's background."
Axel nodded. "Yes sir."
I picked up the file. Opened the bottom drawer of my desk. The deepest one. Dropped the file inside.
"And Axel?"
"Yes sir?"
"Destroy all the copies. I don't want any record of this investigation existing anywhere."
"Understood sir." He left. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
I sat alone in my study. The lamp light seemed dimmer now. The shadows deeper.
She'd been telling the truth the whole time.
I thought about all the dark scenarios I'd imagined. The conspiracy theories I'd constructed. The worst-case plans I'd made.
I felt like an idiot. More than that. I felt guilty.
"This time, I was wrong," I said out loud to the empty room.
I'd spent too many years in this world. Too many years surrounded by lies and betrayal. Too many years where everyone had an angle. Where trust was a weakness. Where suspicion kept you alive.
But Scarlett wasn't part of that world.
She was just a girl who'd learned to protect herself because no one else would.
She was my wife.
I took a deep breath. Let it out slowly.
From now on, I needed to give her what she deserved.
Trust.
No more investigations. No more suspicions. No more treating her like she was hiding something.
She'd been honest with me from the beginning.
It was time I returned the favor.