“The world knows me only as a professor. But before that, I served in silence. At Bletchley Park, we cracked ciphers that helped turn the tide of war. Later, I carried those skills into Europe, traveling under false names, bearing passports you now hold. They are from a time you may not fully understand.”
“Your aunt was my light. We met among codes and secrecy, yet built something beautiful. Her death was an accident, cruel and senseless. Rumors painted me darker, but truth never mattered to tongues eager for scandal. I buried my grief and, with it, and much of who I was.”