Epilogue Evie
One month later
The beeping monitors stop as the nurse disconnects the tangle of wires from my mother’s hand.
I’ve stayed away, not sure what I would say to her.
Or if I even wanted to talk to her after everything that’s happened.
The investigation involving my stepfather and Jonathan’s deaths closed last week—a murder-suicide between guilty members of the church involved in money laundering and sex trafficking.
The FBI arrested dozens of people, closing the church and the Blue Lagoon until further notice.
This past week has felt like a dream. One filled with justice and relief, knowing sick assholes like them are off the streets.
The judge only granted them a handful of years, but Silas assures me none of the perverts will be leaving prison alive.
With Roy and Jonathan officially having a cause of death, it also means it’s time to settle the financial aspects of their wills, not that I want anything from either of them. Still, I need all ties connecting me to my old family cut. So, I’m here, sitting in Mother’s hospital room.
“By all means, take your time,” Mother snaps, glaring at the nurse as she unplugs the leads over her heart.
My spine stiffens, Silas’s hand gripping mine for support. “The nurse has it under control,” he says, pressing his lips to my cheek.
Sure enough, the nurse gives my mother a sanguine smile before ripping off the last adhesive with more force than necessary. Mother flinches, cursing, but the nurse gives me a wink on the way out, not bothering to conceal her smirk.
“I’ll let the lawyer know you’re ready.”
“Trisha, darling,” a familiar voice calls, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“Breathe,” Silas murmurs, thumb rubbing across the back of my hand as Dean Whitehouser—my biological father—precedes the lawyer into the room.
“I tried to come in sooner, but they wouldn’t let me,” he says, taking my mother’s hand. “I’m here now, my sweet.”
“Gross,” I mutter, earning a curious glance from the lawyer.
She’s young for someone in her profession, maybe mid-thirties, with dark blonde hair and kind, clever blue eyes.
“I’m Morgan and will be handling the distribution of assets today.
Let’s get started, shall we?” she says, handing my mother and me identical folders.
“Inheritance can be a touchy subject for the recently deceased’s family, especially when the contents of the will were altered so close to an untimely passing. ”
My brows furrow as I glance up to find my mother glaring at me with suspicion.
“A delay was needed to verify said documents,” Morgan continues. “But now that cause of death, fault of death, and all legal matters are settled, we can proceed.”
Mother sits straighter in the hospital bed, plastering on the expression that’s earned her a running tab of condolences.
“Either way,” Silas whispers to me as the lawyer continues to speak, his fingers gently tilting my chin until I meet his gaze, “I’ve got you covered. School, housing, if you want to drop out and travel. Anything. You’re set.”
The green of his eyes simmers with warmth, something I’ve come to learn is just for me.
We’ve discussed our future at length. I appreciate that Silas wants to care for me in every way he can.
It’d be foolish not to take him up on his offer.
I know it’s genuine. No catch. No hidden ties that would come back to strangle me.
But a part of me is still holding on to the hope that I’ll be able to take my place beside him. As an equal.
“Henceforth,” Morgan says, seeming to wait for us to tune back in, “the funds will be dispersed as such—to my wife, I leave our main residence, the San Diego estate, with a monthly stipend to maintain staff and other expenses.”
Morgan hands a paper attached to a clipboard and pen to Mother. “Sign on the highlighted line.”
She does. Morgan tucks the document into a folder before turning to me.
“To my daughter—”
“Wait,” Mother cuts in. “That’s it? What about the villa in Italy? The vacation home in Florida, Spain, or the one in Brazil? They’re rightfully mine.”
“I’m aware this can be difficult,” Morgan says, not sounding sorry in the least. “Feel free to take a moment to process, but I must continue.
“To my daughter, I entrust your husband to care for and protect you in the case of my passing. As such, he shall take ownership over your allotment.”
I blink, a weight sinking in my stomach. “He cut me out of the will?”
“It would seem that was his intent,” Morgan says, true sympathy shining through as she passes me a document to sign.
“Serves you right.” Mother’s bark of a laugh is like a slap in the face. Dean Whitehouser shoots her a reproachful look but doesn’t say anything. I banish the tears threatening to spill as I sign, grateful for Silas’s strong hand on my thigh.
“Congratulations on your wedding,” Morgan presses on, flipping through her folder to withdraw a thick stack of papers.
Silas inhales sharply as my brows furrow, looking to him for answers. His jaw flexes, a harsh shake of his head telling me he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.
“And condolences,” Morgan continues, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Your father took it upon himself to have a copy of your marriage certificate to a Mr. Jameson Barns added to his will. As you know, Mr. Barns also tragically died on the same day, which means you inherit his portion of your father’s wealth in its entirety. ”
My mouth falls open, staring at the large sum of funds listed on the front page of the stack Morgan slides my way.
“Details can be found on subsequent pages as noted by the color-coded tabs. The key is listed on the bottom of page one. This is your copy to keep.”
“This is preposterous,” Mother seethes, nostrils flaring as she cranes her neck to see. “Evie never married Jameson.”
“Trisha, please,” Dean Whitehouser chides, looking at the monitor and inflating cuff circling her arm. “Your blood pressure, dear.”
“A legal marriage certificate was documented and signed. With you listed as a witness,” Morgan says, seeming to enjoy the way Mother has to bite her tongue before she turns to me.
“If you sign on this line, the inheritance is yours. Your legal marriage to Mr. Barns has already been signed by a judge and the required witnesses. And subsequently ended due to his death.”
I glance at Silas, watching his fists clench, and knowing the idea of me being bound to another is torture.
“Sign it, little fox.” He sighs. “As Morgan said, Mr. Barns is dead.”
The extra emphasis on the last word has my lips quirking. I scrawl my name on the dotted line, realizing I’ll be able to finish the school year without aid from Dean Whitehouser. Or Silas. Who knows, we might even be able to transfer to my dream college in Spain once Morana and Serena are settled.
They’re processing as well as they can. Serena feels safest with Morana, but Tempest and I are growing on her. She’s looking into school and careers and recently found a therapist she feels comfortable with.
Likewise, Morana is slowly opening up, sharing rare glimpses of her past when she feels up to it.
Each person’s trauma is their own, and while I don’t expect Morana to tell us everything, I can’t help but feel there’s something she’s hiding.
It’s in the way I catch her looking toward the horizon at sunrise, staring out across the desert as if envisioning someone coming for her.
As if wishing to be found. Like she has a secret she’s kept even from Serena.
Time will tell. Isn’t that what they say? There’s no use running from a past that’s already happened or racing toward a future that has yet to unfold. Life is happening right now—all around us.
I set the pen down, relieved to find only love swirling in Silas’s gaze. “Is that it?”
“One more thing,” Morgan says. Even Mother stops her cursing long enough to watch as Morgan withdraws a second, equally thick stack. “Jonathan died without a will, meaning all his assets revert to his next of kin.”
“Me,” Mother declares, her grin as warm as an icy shard.
“Actually, no.” Morgan’s smile is triumphant. “Being that you’re not his biological mother, according to the state’s succession law, Evie’s status as half-sister affords her his claim. Sign here, please.”
Mother opens her mouth, no doubt ready to tell the world that I’m not related to Jonathan, but Dean Whitehouser stops her.
With the investigation and nearly everyone from the church ending up in jail, Mother has had to be careful what she admits to.
Wanting to cover up an affair is motivation enough, but if she tests me on this, I’ll tell the entire world how she supported Roy.
How she offered to sell her own daughter.
I don’t blink, holding her gaze as I wait to see what she’ll do. With effort she swallows and turns away.
Laughing, I scrawl my name across the bottom as fast as I can. Silas and I push to stand, accepting a copy of the paperwork before rushing from the room.
“I’ll be in contact shortly to help with dispersal of funds,” Morgan calls, waving farewell as she heads for the elevator.
“Damn, baby.” Silas chuckles as we step outside the hospital. Light clouds drift lazily across the blue sky, palm trees swaying in a cool breeze. Hints of salt coat the air, the gentle caw of seagulls humming in the distance. “Looks like you’re taking me out to lunch. Where should we go?”
Anywhere, I think as a smile splits my face. We can go anywhere. Do anything. Spain doesn’t have to stay a dream. Silas dedicating himself to his art and me, free to study at leisure, becoming a professor so I never have to stop learning. We can do it all.
Weaving my fingers through his, I press up on my toes, capturing his lips in a crushing kiss. Silas groans, fingers tangling in my hair, tugging hard enough to have my thighs clenching in anticipation.
“Fuck, Evie,” Silas pants, his cock twitching as I press my body against his.
“What do you say about eating in?”
His palms trail down my back, brushing over the curves of my ass as he licks his lips, the sight alone sending a pulse of heat straight to my core. I bite my lip, craving the feel of his hands on my body, of his mouth and lips and tongue worshiping me.
As if reading my thoughts, his hand cups my pussy through the fabric of my dress.
“Are you asking me to eat this sweet pussy of yours, little fox?”
“Yes,” I breathe, nipples pebbling as his pupils dilate. It’s only been hours since he was last between my thighs, but I want more. God, I hope this never ends—this incessant yearning for him. For the serpent who’s stolen my heart and made it his own. “Once we get back.”
Silas groans, throwing his head back as if the thought of having to wait is torture.
“You’re going to feel my cock pressing into your back the whole ride home,” he purrs, practically dragging me toward his bike.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I grin, arching my back and leaning forward as he starts the engine.
“Christ,” Silas curses, gripping my waist and dragging my ass against his hard length. “Keep doing that and I’m going to fuck you here, Evie. Fill this tight hole up with my cum as you scream my name.”
“Promise?” I ask, my voice breathy.
A rumbling growl is his only response as Silas guides us through the streets, heading for the winding canyon road that will take us home.
Home.
For the first time in my life, I’ve found a home. Not the house Silas and I live in, or the sheets we sleep on, but us. Him. We may be a little fucked up, but the splintered pieces of our lives match, clicking together like a twisted puzzle.
“I hope you’re ready, baby.” Silas angles his bike left, heading down the driveway toward his studio, to our place of comfort. “Because now that I have you, now that your last excuse for not being mine is gone, I’m never letting you go.”
An elated laugh escapes me as Silas throws me over his shoulder, slapping my ass as he races through the door. He’s right. A part of me was still holding back, so scared of being dependent on another person, even if that person was Silas. But now…
Silas tosses me onto the bed, the silk sheets dipping as I sit up.
“So many promises today,” I murmur, sliding over to the edge. He lifts a brow at my ministrations, eyes growing hooded as I let my knees fall open. “I hope you plan on keeping them.”
The look he gives me is feral, all want and hunger and something softer.
Deeper. Silas kneels, hiking the hem of my dress up as he spreads my thighs.
A low growl hums against my panties as he presses an intimate kiss over the soaked fabric.
My head falls back, eyes closing—only for him to pull away.
I blink, finding Silas on one knee between my legs, holding a small box. My eyes widen as he swallows, the dark flecks of his emerald eyes brimming with love and nervous anticipation.
“I love you, Evie,” Silas says, as if him loving me is a fact—a requirement for life. “You are the light in the darkness. The brilliant splash of color illuminating a grey canvas. I vow to worship every inch of your body. To keep your heart safe. To learn and cherish your beautiful fucking mind.”
Tears stream around my smile as he flashes that devilish grin of his.
“You’re mine already, little fox. But I still want my ring on your finger. My name attached to yours.” He opens the black velvet box, revealing a large teardrop diamond surrounded by glimmering emeralds. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” I cry, launching into his waiting arms. He slides the ring onto my finger, securing our promise, and I think my heart might explode from happiness.
All of the torment, the pain and suffering, the bleakest moments when I couldn’t see a future—I’d do it all again to find him.
His lips crash into mine, licking and nipping between smiles.
I squeal as his hands trail up my thighs, his mouth grazing the edge of my collarbone as he sets me back on the bed.
“Lay back, my Evie,” Silas purrs, gazing at me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world. “I want to enjoy my first meal as an engaged man. And I’m starving.”