Chapter 74 – Photos from Another Life
Georgia Laurent did not cry.
Not when empires fell.
Not when alliances broke.
Not when she had to choose survival over sentiment.
But when Lana sent the second set of photos, her hands trembled.
The message arrived at 3:17 a.m.
No greeting.
No explanation.
Just images.
Georgia was in her Lisbon hotel suite, lights off, city quiet beyond the window. She had told herself she would wait. That she would confront David calmly. That she would gather facts first.
Then the photos opened.
A beachfront ceremony.
Wind lifting white linen curtains.
David - no, Daniel - standing barefoot in sand.
Lana beside him.
Laughing.
Happy.
Intimate in a way that could not be staged.
Georgia zoomed in.
The watch on his wrist.
Her anniversary gift from last year.
The cufflinks.
Engraved with their initials.
DL & GL.
Her throat tightened.
The timestamp embedded in the image metadata glared at her.
April 14.
Her wedding anniversary.
He had told her he was in Dubai finalizing a merger.
She had sent him a voice note that night.
She remembered it vividly.
"I'm proud of the man you are," she had said softly.
In the photo, he was kissing another bride.
Georgia exhaled slowly.
Still no tears.
She called Lana.
The woman answered immediately.
"You saw them."
"Yes."
Silence stretched between them.
"He didn't just marry me," Lana said carefully. "He built a life. Friends. Neighbors. Business partners who know him as Daniel Costa."
Georgia walked to the mirror.
Her own reflection stared back - composed, sharp, dangerous.
"Does he love you?" Georgia asked.
There was a long pause.
"I thought he did."
That honesty pierced deeper than jealousy ever could.
Lana arrived at Georgia's hotel an hour later.
No hostility.
No dramatics.
Just two wives sitting across from each other in a dim suite lit by city glow.
Georgia studied her.
Lana wasn't reckless.
She wasn't naïve.
She was strategic.
"He funded a cybersecurity firm in Lisbon," Lana explained, sliding documents across the table. "Small. Quiet. Government contracts, but not public ones."
Georgia read quickly.
The signatures were David's handwriting.
But signed as D. Costa.
"He has a second passport," Lana added.
Georgia's eyes snapped up.
"Under the name Daniel Costa. Issued seven years ago."
Seven years.
Two years before he met Georgia.
"So he was already living two lives when he married me."
"Yes."
Lana swallowed.
"I didn't call you because I'm jealous."
"Why then?"
"Because something changed three months ago."
Georgia's instincts sharpened.
"What?"
"He started asking questions about you."
The room felt smaller.
"What kind of questions?"
"Your business history. Your political connections. Your past scandals."
Georgia went still.
"He already knows those."
"Not like this," Lana said quietly. "He was mapping you."
The word landed heavily.
Mapping.
Like a target.
Georgia stood abruptly and walked to the window.
Below, Lisbon moved peacefully, unaware that something colder was unfolding in hotel rooms above it.
"He told me last week," Lana continued, voice unsteady now, "that sometimes marriage is strategic."
Georgia closed her eyes.
That wasn't David's tone.
That was the tone of someone trained to compartmentalize.
To attach when necessary.
Detach when required.
"Show me everything," Georgia said finally.
Lana opened her laptop.
Emails.
Encrypted exchanges.
Calendar overlaps.
One file stood out.
Operation Janus.
Georgia's heart skipped.
Janus.
The Roman god of duality.
Two faces.
Two lives.
Two truths.
The file required a password.
Lana didn't have it.
But Georgia had a feeling she knew someone who might.
Georgia returned to her suite alone near dawn.
Her phone buzzed before she even reached the door.
David.
She answered.
"Where are you?" he asked.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"In Paris," she replied evenly.
A pause.
"I know you're not."
Her pulse slowed instead of racing.
"How?"
"I track what matters."
There it was.
The slip.
"You're tracking me?"
"I'm protecting you."
"From what?"
Silence.
Then:
"From the consequences of asking the wrong questions."
Georgia stepped inside her suite.
Locked the door.
"Are you Daniel Costa?" she asked quietly.
A long exhale on the other end.
"Yes."
The admission did not sound ashamed.
It sounded tired.
"Is Lana your wife?"
"Yes."
Georgia swallowed.
"And me?"
A pause.
Then:
"You were never supposed to get this close."
The words cracked something inside her.
"So I was what?" she demanded. "A cover?"
"No."
"Then what?"
His voice softened.
"An asset I didn't expect to love."
Georgia's breath caught.
Before she could respond, her laptop pinged.
Incoming file.
Unknown sender.
She opened it.
A live security feed.
Her Lagos home.
Men moving inside.
Not thieves.
Professionals.
Searching.
Her heart slammed.
"David," she whispered.
He was already speaking.
"They've accelerated."
"Who?"
"You shouldn't have met her."
"Who is inside my house?"
"The people who want to know which of my wives I'd choose."
Her blood ran cold.
"Choose for what?"
"For leverage."
The line crackled.
"Listen to me carefully," he said. "If they take you, don't tell them about Janus."
Her door handle rattled.
Georgia froze.
Someone tried it again.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The phone slipped slightly in her grip.
"David," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "I can see them."
The door burst open.
Two men in dark clothing stepped inside.
Professional.
Efficient.
One spoke calmly.
"Mrs. Luther, you need to come with us."
Georgia's gaze stayed on her phone.
"Which identity sent you?" she asked quietly.
The man's expression shifted.
Interesting.
Before he could answer, a gunshot echoed from the hallway.
One of the men dropped.
The second turned sharply-
And a third figure entered.
Face partially shadowed.
Familiar posture.
Same build.
Same eyes.
David.
Or Daniel.
Or someone else entirely.
He looked at Georgia once.
Intense.
Focused.
"Time's up," he said.
To her.
Or to the men.
She couldn't tell.
Then he grabbed her hand.
And pulled her toward the emergency exit as sirens wailed below.
Behind them, one of the fallen men groaned.
Into a radio.
"Both wives confirmed active."
Georgia stumbled slightly as they ran.
"Both?" she breathed.
David didn't slow.
"Yes."
Her stomach dropped.
"What does that mean?"
He didn't answer immediately.
They burst into the stairwell.
Footsteps echoed from above.
From below.
They were surrounded.
David finally looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And said the words that changed everything:
"It means they never intended for either of you to survive this."
Gunfire exploded through the stairwell door.
And the lights went out.
Georgia is no longer deciding whether to expose her husband.
She is now inside the war he was trying to keep her out of.
And someone has officially marked both wives expendable.
