Epilogue - Eunice
THE AFTERNOON SUN was thin and silvery, spilling across the oak floors while outside, white-capped pines disappeared under the blankets of fresh snow.
It’s a place very different from anywhere else in the world.
Maybe because this place held something sacred for both of us.
This life we’d built together. Oftentimes, I had to pinch myself—it still didn’t feel real.
Five years married. Three years since Dom launched his cybersecurity company, proving to everyone that he didn’t need his surname to make it big. We were still small—only five clients—but they were all high-profile, high-ticket accounts.
And then there was me, tucked into our holiday home in Hope Peak, working remotely. I especially loved this setup around the holidays because the snow made everything feel hushed and sacred.
My finger hovered over the “send” button for our monthly newsletter.
My official title was Head of Client Relations, but unofficially, I was the admin assistant, Dom’s part-time secretary when he needed me, and the person who reminded everyone that there’s always a human being behind every business.
The office we’d carved out from one of the four bedrooms was my sanctuary—bookshelves lined at the sides, a small desk positioned to catch the afternoon light, and fairy lights strung around the big window that Dom had insisted looked “too festive” but never took down.
The fireplace crackling in the corner made everything cozy.
I heard no footsteps, but I knew Dom had entered the room because a pocket of arctic air still followed him everywhere he went.
I looked up and noticed him standing in the doorway, his jaw tight, running a hand through his dark hair.
That same gesture when stress was eating him alive.
He wasn’t the angry, withdrawn man I’d met five years ago, but I could see it in the tight line of his jaw—the weight of the company was crushing him today.
“Hey,” I said softly, my hand leaving the keyboard. “Everything okay?”
He started pacing in front of my desk. “Thayer is pulling the account.”
His answer landed like stones sinking into my gut.
The Thayer Group. A company of generational wealth, dynastic in proportion, built over a hundred and fifty years, and our biggest client.
The eight-figure enterprise contract that had put us on the map.
A proof that Dom’s genius was worth a king’s ransom.
I closed my laptop slowly, my own heart beginning a heavy, anxious beat. “What happened?” I asked, my voice calm, even as my stomach knotted.
“We had a breach attempt last night,” he said, shrugging out of his coat and throwing it over a chair.
“Phantom Siege. The attackers threw a smokescreen of thousands of bots at their portal. Our system successfully identified the pattern, isolated the one successful but illegitimate login, terminated the session, and vaporized the entire swarm in under seven minutes. It was flawless.”
He rubbed his face with his big hand, his energy coming off sharp and frustrated.
“Then the engineers got on the debrief call and explained the problem. They walked Thayer through the attack vector and explained the credential-stuffing methodology. They identified the compromised credentials. Ten minutes later, we got a call terminating the contract. He said we were arrogant and condescending.”
He stopped in front of me. “Arrogant? For being right? For doing our job perfectly? It makes no damn sense.”
I leaned back, closing my eyes. I could picture it perfectly. A team of geniuses, hand-picked by Dom for their brilliance, blindsiding a 65-year-old CEO with technicalities. I could almost guarantee they made him feel like a dinosaur because he didn’t understand the jargon.
“He told you himself?” I asked.
“He told Francis he was terminating the contract effective immediately and said he ‘won’t be condescended to by kids.’” Dom stopped pacing and leaned on my desk, his blue eyes stormy. “Our biggest account, Eunice.”
I reached out and placed my hand over his. “Breathe. You built an impenetrable fortress.” I gave him a small smile and tapped the headset. “Patch me through to Thayer’s direct line.”
Dom’s expression shifted from frustration to a flicker of hope. I knew he trusted me. He nodded, tapping his phone to give his assistant the instruction. A moment later, the line was ringing.
“Thayer,” a gruff voice answered, clipped, sounding impatient.
“Mr. Thayer, this is Eunice Rutherford from Rutherford Security. How are you?”
“I’ve already spoken to your people,” he snapped. “I’m done.”
“I know, sir. And I’m not calling to talk about that,” I said, my voice deliberately soft and steady. “I’m calling to apologize. You were made to feel disrespected, and there is absolutely no excuse for that.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. I had his attention.
“You’re right,” I continued. “They’re brilliant, but they live in a world of code. They forget that for our clients, this isn’t about code. It’s about peace of mind. And we failed to give you that today.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “They made me feel like an idiot. Like our whole company was a joke.”
“I understand completely,” I said. “And I promise you, that will not happen again. Can I try to explain what happened without a single word of jargon?”
He grunted. “Proceed.”
“Last night, an impostor approached your company.
Not a common barbarian trying to smash down gates, but a master of disguise so clever he could have fooled almost anyone.
He approached one of your men and presented himself as a trusted family friend.
For a second, your man believed the disguise, but before he could even act, the system in place recognized his fraudulent colors and shut him out.
The silence on the other end of the line was fathomless. I watched Dom’s throat work as he swallowed. He was listening to me.
“You’re the first person over there who’s made a lick of sense,” he finally said. “Fine. I will not terminate the contract, but on one condition.”
“Yes, Mr. Thayer?”
“You’re the only one I’m talking to from now on.”
“I’d be honored, sir,” I said. The tightness in my chest eased as I ended the call.
I took off my headset and met Dom’s gaze. He was standing by the door, one hand up, bracing himself, observing me with so much love and admiration, it pulled the air from my lungs. It was the same pose from that night at the inn, outside my room, when he’d told me he wanted to date me.
He approached, and once he reached my side, he sat on the edge of my desk, his large hands coming to rest on my belly, cupping the swell of our second child. His fingers traced gentle circles before leaning down and pressing a kiss to my hair, then another to my lips.
“Guys like me,” he whispered against my mouth, the words rough as if torn from the deepest part of him, “don’t end up with girls like you. He was right. We don’t deserve to.”
I smiled, turning my face to kiss him. “Good thing there is no such thing as ‘just’ an admin assistant.”
He pulled back, and my heart burst just looking at him.
“No, Eunice,” he whispered, his thumb caressing my cheek. “You’re my heart.”
*****
Days later, the weight of Dom’s words still settled over like the softest blanket. I sat in my office, but the work on my screen was forgotten. I kept replaying the look in Dom’s eyes. A look that said I was his anchor, his North Star.
A soft murmur of voices from the kitchen pulled me from my thoughts, and I stood, drawn to the sound of my two favorite people.
I padded toward the kitchen, one hand resting on my belly. The cabin felt especially cozy today, with snow falling steadily outside the windows.
When I got to the door, Leo was perched on a stool, arms crossed, staring stubbornly out the window. I could only see the side of his face, while Dom stood on the opposite side of the island.
“I don’t wanna.” Leo’s voice carried sharp frustration, and I stopped just outside the kitchen door.
Leo’s dark hair was tousled, and his blue eyes—so much like his father’s—were swimming with unshed tears.
“You can’t be upset with me like that all day,” Dom said quietly, sliding a mug across the counter. “Extra marshmallows.”
I pressed closer to the doorframe, my heart squeezing. Dom had been working late again, stress from the company keeping him distracted even here. Leo, sensitive like both of us, felt everything.
Leo didn’t move to take the mug. His lower lip quivered. “You’ll not listen.”
Dom leaned slightly, arms crossed. “Try me.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Tell me anyway.”
After a minute, Leo’s voice broke on a whisper. “I want to live with Grandma.”
I caught the way Dom’s shoulders went rigid, and my own lungs stalled.
This was the moment I’d been bracing for—the one I’d known was coming ever since Leo started clinging tighter, shadowing me from room to room like he wanted to anchor himself to my side.
His fear had been circling closer every day.
Dom crouched down until they were eye level. “Leo. Look at me.”
When Leo finally met his gaze, Dom’s voice was soft, vulnerable in a way that still surprised me after all these years. “You think that because you’ll have a brother, we won’t love you anymore?”
The stubborn mop of head did not move, but his chin trembled.
I watched Dom reach out, brushing Leo’s wild hair back from his forehead, hand so big but also so full of tenderness.
“I felt like that once, too, when I had a new brother. Like I wasn’t important anymore. It’s a lonely feeling.”
My throat tightened. Dom rarely talked about his childhood, but seeing him open that door for Leo made my chest ache.
“Listen to me, Leo. Love isn’t like pizza. You think if I give a slice to the baby, you’ll starve? Love doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t get smaller when you share it. It gets bigger.”
Leo scrunched his nose. “Why will it get bigger?”