Epilogue
One Year Later
“You know I can sense you there, right, Chamberlain?” Maddox says.
“I’m being patient. I don’t want to interrupt your writing.”
He spins the chair away from the desk and puts out his arms, pulling me in. “You never interrupt. I was just brooding over this damn scene anyway.”
We sit there, kissing and cuddling and talking. It’s Friday evening, and any moment now Theo will walk through the door and our weekend will begin.
I’m going to Stanford, as planned. Maddox and I have a condo there.
Theo goes to the University of Southern California, also as planned.
Maddox spent a month in a private hospital, and he’s still seeing a physical therapist and neuropsychologist, which means he has every reason to take a gap year, though he has been roped into writing a screenplay for Theo.
“Roped into” is Maddox’s way of putting it, but he’s honestly having a blast.
Going to USC means Theo has a condo in L.A.
It’s a long train ride, but we still spend most weekends together, Theo coming here or us going there.
Sometimes Maddox stays the week to work with Theo, and sometimes I go down by myself to give Maddox space to write.
It’s all very fluid and very “whatever works,” and what matters is that it does work.
We work, and to hell with anyone who has a problem with it.
Trinity definitely does not have a problem with it. She’s kind of adorable in her excited acceptance, as if we’re doing something new and cool. She’s back on the dating scene herself, having finally left Bernard after everything about Westdale came out.
As Charles Dubois said, the Janus Society disbanded years ago, when finding members became difficult and the administration—the Dimitriou family—decided the Brandts could handle it by themselves.
They manipulated the race to ensure the most useful candidate got in when they feared the Optimas might vote a different way.
As for the attacks on me, those were indeed about my inheritance. My grandparents might have intended the donation to go to Westdale Academy, but Westdale is Ms. Dimitriou and her family. Nothing in the bequeathment said the money had to go to the school.
Years of poor investments meant their fortunes had been declining steadily.
They’d tried to recoup it through the school—I remember Theo saying his dad had complained about tuition going up as perks disappeared.
But that wasn’t enough and then Ms. Dimitriou was dealing with a son needing very expensive rehab.
The Dimitrious had been counting on that nest egg, and when my grandparents sent me to Westdale, they had their chance to guarantee their inheritance.
Kill me before anyone cared—and before I turned eighteen and could change the will—and then, with no other possible heirs, they’d just need to wait for my elderly grandfather and sick grandmother to die.
They set the Brandts on the job, promising them a big chunk of the eventual profits.
Westdale is shut down, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
It definitely couldn’t continue under the Dimitrious.
Ms. Dimitriou still swears she had nothing to do with it, and the extended family has resorted to pointing fingers at each other, with the Brandts pointing them at everyone.
As much as Ms. Dimitriou rolled her eyes at the societies, I’m sure she knew, and I’m sure she made note of how many times I went into the archives.
Just as I’m sure my mother’s yearbook didn’t vanish by accident.
Now that I’m eighteen, I have my trust fund, and a mind-boggling amount of money. Mostly, I’m playing a really fun game of seeing how much I can give away, with Polly’s help.
Polly and Allegra are both in New York. We visit, and once this term ends, we’re all spending the summer on location—scouting for Theo’s next film, which really just means luxury globe-trotting with friends.
I might be giving away as much money as I can, but Allegra is the first to remind me that I don’t need to feel guilty about enjoying what I have.
And what I have now is nothing compared to what I’ll inherit when my grandparents pass.
I try not to think about that. As for my grandparents, I’d love to say that I finally met them and discovered they were amazing people who’d only held me at arm’s length because they were grieving for my mother but…
If they were those people, Mom never would have left in the first place.
I did reach out, thinking maybe I should take the initiative.
They replied—via Cecilia—that they would “love” to have me visit, but it just wasn’t a good time.
A month later, I showed up for a Chamberlain board meeting and my grandfather was there on video, and once he overcame his shock at seeing me, he acted like I was some new intern, beneath his notice.
Maddox had raised suspicions over my grandparents never reaching out, but it hadn’t been suspicious at all.
Cecilia hadn’t kept anything from me. She’d been doing backflips smoothing things over and making excuses to keep me from feeling the full weight of their rejection, and I owe her so much for that.
I cried for two days after that video call with my grandfather.
And then I got a call from a stranger who turned out to be my grandmother’s sister—my great-aunt.
She’d been estranged from my grandmother since her marriage, but she’d read about me and gotten my contact information after Cecilia did her research and decided Aunt Sophie was legit and wealthy enough that she wasn’t looking for money, which is always a concern now.
We’ve met twice, and I’ll be having dinner with her children and grandchildren next month.
So I do have family, which is important to me, but even more important is the family I’m creating, with Theo and Maddox and our friends.
When a key sounds in the lock, I scramble up and run, as Maddox chuckles behind me. The front door opens, and I throw myself into Theo’s arms. He spins me around and kisses me before setting me down and walking to where Maddox waits.
Theo walks up behind him, puts his arms around his neck, and gives him a hug.
I slip back into the front hall to take Theo’s bag, giving them a moment, because, yep, that has progressed the way I suspected it might, and I am thrilled for both of them.
Also thrilled for me, because balance is a wonderful thing.
“What’s the plan?” Theo calls from the other room, and I take that as my cue to enter. He’s collapsed on the sofa as Maddox shuts down his screenwriting app.
“Up to you,” I say as I sit beside Theo. “How exhausting was the train ride?”
“I got homework done, which is always good. But if it’s up to me, I’d like to stay in. It’s been a long week, and I’m really tired of being Theo Dubois.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry.” I hug him. “Delivery for dinner?”
“Please. Anything you want. I just care that I don’t need to go out for it.”
I glance at Maddox. “You choose? I’m a little decision-fried, too.”
“On it,” Maddox says, taking out his phone.
“So a quiet night in?” I say to Theo.
“Please,” Theo says. “I just want to chill. Eat some food, maybe play some board games, get my energy back so we can play more games.” He waggles his brows.
I laugh as I kiss him. “Sounds like the perfect night.”
The perfect night. The perfect life. Perfect for me, that is.
I won’t pretend we’ve healed from everything that has happened. My parents are still gone. Jenna is still gone. Isolde is still gone.
All of us have felt abandoned by people who were supposed to keep us safe—my grandparents, Theo’s dad, Maddox’s mom.
But we keep each other safe, and we have others to help, and we’re healing.
On the mantel over the fireplace are three kintsugi teacups that we bought last year.
Three broken vessels repaired with gold, all the more beautiful for the cracks.
That’s what we want to be, and we’ll get there someday. Together.