The cathedral doors groan shut behind me like a vault sealing. My trembling fingers crush the bouquet - white roses now stained red where thorns pierced my palms. At the altar, Damien Blackwood stands motionless, his profile sharp enough to draw blood. The rumors said he'd have claws and yellow eyes, but when he turns, I see only a man - beautiful in the way guillotines are beautiful. His first words as my husband aren't threats but an apology for my stained gloves. That's when I notice the tremor in his hand as he offers his arm. Later, in our chambers, I find his medicine cabinet stocked not with the expected poisons but with migraine tinctures and... a child's stuffed rabbit hidden behind them. The date embroidered on its ear matches my sister's birthday. Do I confront him now or investigate silently?