stranger before slowly becoming something else.
And a man who spent his entire life collecting secrets, only to discover that the truth was the only thing capable of setting his family free.
People still occasionally ask whether I regret marrying Russell.
I always give them the same answer.
“Which version of him?”
The rich man?
Yes.
The manipulator?
Absolutely.
The frightened old man trying to repair what he had destroyed?
No.
I loved that man.
And he loved me.
Imperfectly.
Complicatedly.
Too late in some ways.
But truly.
Sometimes that is all a life gives you.
Not a perfect beginning.
Not a painless middle.
But the chance to choose a better ending.
And ours, against every reasonable expectation, became one.
**THE END**
