Epilogue - Bianca
Three Months Later
The morning light filters through lace curtains, soft and golden.
I stand before the full-length mirror in the bedroom that has become ours, staring at my reflection. The woman looking back at me is someone I barely recognize—not because she's wearing an elegant champagne-colored dress that flows over her six-month belly, but because of what's in her eyes.
Peace. Hope. A fierce, quiet joy.
Three months ago, I was a captive. A victim. A woman whose future had been stolen by her own family and bartered away like property.
Today, I'm getting married.
The irony isn't lost on me. The man who bought me at an auction is about to become my husband. But the path from that moment to this one has transformed everything—him, me, what we are to each other. This isn't a transaction. It's a choice. My choice.
"Stop fidgeting," Mrs. Novak says, adjusting the delicate beading along my neckline. "You'll wrinkle the fabric."
"I'm not fidgeting. I'm... settling."
"You're fidgeting." But her voice is warm, her eyes suspiciously bright. She's been with the Kashkin family for thirty years, watched Misha grow from a boy into the man he is today. I think she'd given up hope of ever seeing him marry.
"There." She steps back, surveying her work. "Perfect. Maria would be proud."
The mention of Misha's mother sends a pang through my chest. I never met her, but I feel like I know her—through the greenhouse she built, the journal I found hidden among her things, the son she raised. I'm wearing her ring on my finger. In a few hours, I'll carry her name.
I hope I'm worthy of it.
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. Anna sweeps in without waiting for an answer, a blur of dark hair and designer perfume and barely contained excitement.
"Oh my God," she breathes, stopping short when she sees me. "Bianca. You look..."
"Pregnant?"
"Radiant." She crosses the room and takes my hands, her eyes glistening. "Absolutely radiant. My brother is going to lose his mind."
"I hope that's a good thing."
"It's the best thing." She squeezes my fingers. "I've never seen him like this, you know. Happy. Actually happy, not just... functioning. You did that. You and the little one."
I press my free hand to my belly, feeling the familiar flutter of movement beneath my palm. The baby has been active all morning, as if sensing the significance of the day.
"I'm nervous," I admit.
"Of course you are. That's normal." Anna starts fussing with my hair, adjusting pins, smoothing strands into place. "But you have nothing to worry about. He adores you. Anyone with eyes can see that."
"It's not Misha I'm nervous about. It's... everything else. The life we're building. The dangers that come with it. Bringing a child into this world."
Anna's hands still. When she speaks again, her voice is softer.
"I grew up in this world. So did Misha, so did Dmitri.
You know what it's like from your family.
It's not easy. There are things we've seen, things we've lost, that no child should have to experience.
" She meets my eyes in the mirror. "But there's also love.
Fierce, protective, all-consuming love. The kind that builds empires and tears down enemies.
The kind that would burn the world to keep you safe. "
"That sounds exhausting."
She laughs. "It is. But it's also worth it. Every single day, it's worth it."
***
The greenhouse has been transformed.
When I step through the doors an hour later, I have to stop and catch my breath.
Flowers everywhere—roses and lilies and the azaleas I coaxed back to life, their colors vibrant against the restored glass walls.
Candles flicker on every surface, their light warm and golden in the afternoon sun.
White chairs line a central aisle, occupied by the small group of people we've chosen to witness this moment.
Dmitri sits in the front row, his expression as stoic as ever, though I catch a hint of something softer when our eyes meet.
Beside him, Kira holds baby Alexander on her lap, the infant gurgling happily, oblivious to the solemnity of the occasion.
Kira catches my eye and smiles—warm, genuine, the smile of a woman who understands exactly what this moment means.
She was a stranger to this world once too, before Dmitri claimed her. Now she's family.
Alexei sits on Dmitri's other side, looking uncomfortable in a suit but present nonetheless. Mrs. Novak dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief. A handful of others—trusted members of the household, people who have become family in their own way—fill the remaining seats.
No Benedettis. Not my father, who sold me.
Not my brothers, who delivered me to the auction like cargo.
They're not here, and they never will be.
That family is dead to me now—as dead as if they'd never existed.
I used to grieve that loss, used to wonder if there was some way to salvage the relationships that should have meant something.
But I've stopped wondering. Some wounds don't heal. Some betrayals can't be forgiven.
My father and my brothers are in hiding somewhere, Misha tells me.
Running from the consequences of the auction, from the enemies my father made by selling his daughter to the wrong people.
Part of me hopes he spends the rest of his life looking over his shoulder.
Part of me hopes I never think of him again.
Today, I have a new family. A family I chose.
And at the end of the aisle, waiting for me, is the man who will make it official.
Misha.
He stands beneath an arch of white roses, wearing a dark suit that fits him like it was made for this moment—which it probably was. His hands are clasped in front of him, his posture military-straight, his expression carefully controlled.
Then he sees me.
The control cracks. His eyes widen, his lips part, and I watch him swallow hard as emotion floods his features. He's looked at me a thousand ways over the months we've been together—with desire, with tenderness, with protective fury. But I've never seen him look at me like this.
Like I'm everything. Like I'm his whole world.
Anna squeezes my arm and steps away to take her place as my attendant. I barely notice. My entire focus has narrowed to the man at the end of the aisle, the man who killed for me, bled for me, rebuilt his entire life around me.
The man I love.
I start walking.
The ceremony is simple.
We wrote our own vows—Misha's idea, surprisingly. I expected him to want something traditional, something formal. Instead, he insisted on words that meant something. Words that were ours.
He goes first, his voice low and steady, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Bianca. I spent seventeen years building walls.
Convincing myself that I didn't need anyone, that caring for someone was weakness, that I was better off alone.
" He pauses, his jaw tightening. "You proved me wrong.
You broke through every barrier I built, saw through every mask I wore.
You showed me that strength isn't about shutting people out—it's about letting them in. "
His hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with my own.
"I can't promise you a perfect life. I can't promise you safety or peace or any of the things you deserve.
But I can promise you this: I will love you with everything I am.
I will protect you with everything I have.
And I will spend the rest of my days trying to be the man you see when you look at me. "
My eyes are burning. I blink rapidly, trying to hold back the tears.
"I love you," he says simply. "Today. Tomorrow. Always."
The officiant—a judge who owes Dmitri a favor—nods to me. My turn.
I take a breath.
"Misha. Six months ago, I stood on an auction stage, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder.
I thought my life was over. I thought I would never be free again.
" I squeeze his hand. "I was wrong. You didn't just buy me that night—you saved me.
And then you did something even harder. You let me save myself. "
His grip tightens.
"You gave me space to grieve the life I lost. You gave me tools to build a new one.
You treated me like a partner, not a possession.
You loved me even when I didn't know how to love you back.
" The tears spill over now, but I don't try to stop them.
"I never expected to find happiness in your world.
I never expected to find home in the arms of a man everyone else calls a monster. But here I am. Here we are."
I lift our joined hands, pressing them to my heart.
"I love you. Not despite what you are, but because of who you are.
The man who kills for his family. The man who rebuilt a greenhouse because I asked him to.
The man who held my hand while we listened to our baby's heartbeat for the first time.
" I smile through my tears. "That's the man I'm marrying today.
That's the man I'll love for the rest of my life. "
The officiant says something—the traditional words, the legal formalities. I barely hear them. All I can see is Misha's face, the emotion he's no longer trying to hide, the love that transforms his features from cold to breathtaking.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
He kisses me before the officiant finishes speaking.
The greenhouse erupts in applause—restrained, tasteful applause, befitting a gathering of criminals and their associates.
But I can hear Anna's whoop of joy above it all, can see Dmitri's rare smile from the corner of my eye.
Baby Alexander lets out a delighted shriek, and Kira laughs, bouncing him gently on her hip.
When Misha pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine.
"Wife," he murmurs.
"Husband," I reply.
The words feel strange on my tongue. Strange and wonderful and absolutely right.
***
The reception is warm and intimate.