Epilogue
WILLOW
Today is the day.
Today, the last piece of Olivia Stanton’s legacy will fall.
It’s been three months since our final showdown with her, and I’ve finally stopped having nightmares about her and Troy—for the most part, at least. It’s getting easier and easier to put that part of my life in the past, with so much good to focus on in the future.
It helps that Olivia is six feet under, and the Copelands are in jail for her murder. That makes it a lot easier for me to sleep at night.
The cops came poking around during their investigation of the Copelands, wanting to ask me questions as their daughter-in-law. We were prepared for that, and the guys coached me through what to say and what not to say, so by the time I had to answer their questions, I was ready.
It was actually pretty simple. I told a curated version of the truth, admitting that I had been married to Troy but also making it clear that my grandmother forced me into it.
I told the cops that the Copelands and Olivia disliked each other and competed with each other, feeding into the narrative my men had already created of two nefarious families turning against each other.
My story contained just enough truth to make it believable and verifiable, and the evidence that Vic had planted factored heavily against the Copelands, implicating them strongly in Olivia’s death.
And in her absence, her weakened estate finally collapsed.
Creditors came calling, and there was no one to negotiate with them or manipulate them into backing off.
Her businesses were already struggling, and with her gone, they went under entirely.
Especially because they were preyed on by Olivia’s so called ‘friends’ who immediately gathered like vultures to pick apart her business interests once it became pretty clear she wasn’t coming back.
Her mansion was repossessed to cover the estate’s debts, and now it’s being torn down.
My men and I all decided to come watch the destruction of the sprawling mansion, and there’s something cathartic about seeing it happen. It feels like putting something to rest.
As I stand between the three of them at the edge of the property, I can’t help but think of all the hopes and dreams I had in that house.
How good it felt to finally have a connection to my ‘real’ family, and how I could see a good future ahead of me with Olivia’s help.
It felt like I had found my place after so long spent struggling on the outside.
Now I know it was never meant to be my place.
This was never where I belonged.
“Tear the motherfucker down!” Ransom whoops, startling me out of my thoughts. He’s definitely enjoying himself, treating the destruction of the Stanton manor like some kind of spectator sport.
The wrecking ball swings, knocking out one side of the house, and he laughs. “Fuck, yes. Look at that! Clean shot.”
I laugh at his antics, shaking my head at his enthusiasm. I’m glad he’s here with me. Glad they all are. It’s a reminder of the future that’s waiting for me after I put this last ghost of my past to rest.
Another swing, and there’s the sound of glass shattering as the bright sunroom is taken apart.
“Oh, to be a wrecking ball operator.” Ransom sighs longingly. “I think I missed my calling. I would’ve been great at that shit. And on a day like today, my job satisfaction would be off the fucking charts.”
“Yeah, right.” Malice snorts. “No one in their right mind would trust you with a wrecking ball.”
“That’s not true. People trust me with dangerous shit all the time.”
“We let you handle dangerous shit,” Vic comments dryly. “That doesn’t mean we trust you with it.”
The men keep bantering among themselves as more swings of the huge ball bring walls tumbling down.
We stay until the mansion is nothing more than a pile of rubble on the ground in the middle of the lawn.
Without Olivia around to pay them, the gardeners must have stopped coming, so the whole thing is overgrown and full of weeds, no trace of the immaculate landscaping left.
After a while, Victor checks the time and then puts a hand on the small of my back.
“We should get going, or we’ll be late,” he murmurs.
I nod, and we head back to the car, leaving the mess of what was once my grandmother’s seat of power behind.
I think of Misty as we drive, and how her house wasn’t where I belonged either.
I think about the strip club I worked at, the school I fought so hard to get into.
The whorehouse where I almost lost my virginity.
There were so many wrong places that I ended up in over the course of my life, but they were all to get me to the right place. Here.
We pull up outside the doctor’s office a few minutes later, and all of us troop in.
We got a few odd looks the first time we came in for an appointment, but now people are mostly used to it.
I know it’s not uncommon for fathers to come with the mothers to ob-gyn appointments, but it’s not usually so many of them at once.
After I get checked in, we’re shown to the back. We settle into one of the exam rooms, and after I change into a gown, Doctor Simpson comes in.
“Ms. Hayes,” she greets me. “And, uh, everyone.”
I nod, grinning a little at the way she addresses my men.
It’s clear she’s still not quite sure what to make of us, but I don’t even give half a shit.
I’m so completely over second-guessing myself or feeling ashamed of who I am.
And at least this woman is professional enough to brush past it, focusing on the matter at hand.
“Alright, then. Let’s get you up on the table, and we’ll get started,” she says.
She runs through a few standard questions, asking me if I’ve been eating well and about my morning sickness, which has improved a lot since the first couple weeks after I discovered I was pregnant. She also checks if I’ve had any pain or unexplained cramps or anything.
I answer all of her questions, then wince when she starts spreading the cold ultrasound gel on my stomach. She moves the wand around, and a sort of echoey sound fills the room.
It takes me a second to realize what it is.
“Is that—”
She smiles. “Yup. That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
A sort of wild awe fills me, a lump growing in my throat.
Logically, I understood that I was growing a person inside me, but hearing the heartbeat really drives it home.
After I first realized I was pregnant, I had such conflicted feelings about it.
I wasn’t sure I could raise Troy’s baby without constantly being reminded of that hell.
But it helped that my men made it clear from the very beginning that they would support me no matter what choice I made, and that they didn’t consider sharing DNA with a Copeland to be a mark against the baby.
The guys look just as struck by the sound of the heartbeat as I do. Even Malice is standing with his jaw slack, a look almost like wonder on his face.
“And this…” Doctor Simpson taps a few keys on the keyboard attached to her equipment. “Is what the baby looks like right now.”
She turns the screen so we can see it, pointing out the shape on the sonogram. My baby. Our baby.
Victor smiles, tilting his head a little as he studies the screen.
“Beautiful chaos,” he murmurs. “Just like its mother.”
Something squeezes in my chest, and tears prick at my eyes.
The exam finishes up, and Doctor Simpson assures me that everything is looking good and progressing normally. She leaves the ultrasound machine frozen on an image of the sonogram, and I keep glancing at it as she tells me I can get dressed.
“I’ll see you in a month,” she says, then leaves the room.
The space seems to shrink now that it’s just me and my men. I can’t quite seem to catch my breath. My heart is racing, emotions crowding in my chest, tumbling over each other. They rise up higher and higher, filling me up to the brim until finally, they explode out as words.
“Marry me,” I blurt. “I mean… will you? Please?”
The men all react to that, surprise flickering across their expressions. They share a look, and then Ransom chuckles, glancing back at me. “Which one of us are you talking to, angel?”
“All of you,” I reply, shifting my gaze to each one of them in turn. “Of course it’s all of you. I know we can’t do it that way officially, but I want to be married to all of you.”
“Fuck,” Ransom mutters. “I like the sound of that.”
They all swoop in at the same time, taking turns kissing the breath out of me. Their hands and mouths are everywhere, and I figure I can take that as a yes.
“We need to get out of here,” Malice growls, breathing harder. “Or I’m gonna fuck you right here in this room.”
“Wait, wait, let me get dressed.” I laugh, pushing him back. “We’ve already given Doctor Simpson enough to handle today.”
I throw my clothes on in record time, hampered more than helped by the men, who keep trying to lend a hand.
Clearly, they’re better at undressing me than dressing me.
It helps that I’ve started wearing pants with a stretchy waistband, so there are fewer buttons and zippers to deal with.
Malice practically grabs the receptionists computer off her desk when she takes too long pulling up the software to schedule my next appointment, and finally, we hustle out of the building.
All of us crowd into the car, urgency building with every passing second. Malice shoves the key into the ignition and cranks it, making the engine roar to life.
Ransom, meanwhile, slides across the back seat toward me, cupping my face in his hands for a deep, hungry kiss.
Our lips stay connected as his hands slowly start to wander, trailing over my extra sensitive breasts and the curve of my belly.
One large hand works its way past the elastic of my pants, delving between my legs and making me whimper.
“Fuck you,” Malice growls, glancing in the rearview mirror as he white knuckles the steering wheel. “I’m driving, you asshole.”