He takes his leave, and I call some of my other men, instructing them to scour the city for Chambers. Once that is arranged, I stir my computer back to life and resume the video from the night of the gala, playing it from the beginning, trying to catch any other glimpse of the woman who attended that night. The woman who kissed me.

I think of my wife in her room. How many times she must have tried to tell me, and I would not hear it. How close she could have come to facing execution if it weren't for this revelation.

I am not familiar with these churning emotions deep in my gut. They are feelings I don't recognize, but I think perhaps it is guilt.

It appears that nothing is as simple as it seems, and if I was so wrong about this, it leaves me to question my resolve on other matters. The matter of Ivy's family. Her father was poisoned, but by who? At some point, I will need to go to the hospital.

He's been asking to see me since he awoke. A fact not even Ivy or Abel is aware of. The moment the doctor informed me, I had him placed on restricted lockdown while he recovers. The only visitor he is allowed right now is me, and so far, it hasn't proven to be an issue, considering his own family hasn't been to see him in some time. As far as they know, he is still in the same unyielding condition. They are all oblivious to his progress, and he is painfully aware that they are not at his bedside while he fights to regain his strength.

I am still determined to take his life and exact my revenge. It's the only logical conclusion to this scenario. The only way I can ever know peace. But there is no pleasure in snuffing out a sick, weak man. I need him at his best, whatever capacity that may be when he’s fully recovered. I need him to feel the immense deal of pain he will face and remember every agonizing detail.

Except, I can't help considering how that might sour Ivy against me. Right now, she is... different. Instead of running away, she is leaning into me. Stealing opportunities to touch me. In place of her hatred, there is something... more. Something sweeter. Softer.

I feel it. And I don't want to admit that I will be at a loss without it when she realizes what my plans are for her father. Once I carry them out.

But what about her? Can I follow through on my threats to her?

My eyes are bleary as I watch her on the screen. A goddess in black and gold silk. A butterfly with only one wing. How fitting it is.

With painstaking clarity, a realization hits me without warning.

I can't kill her.

Because I don't want to.