Epilogue
F ive Years Later
Cole
S HE’S GLOWING. NOT in the cliché way people say about pregnant women, Rowan actually glows. Golden light spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches in her hair as she laughs, crouched awkwardly beside the twins, her belly round and full between them.
Xavier’s crouched nearby, pretending not to be in competition with our four-year-olds as they race toy hovercars across the polished floors. Laurent lounges on the couch behind them, coaching with unhelpful advice and dramatic commentary. Sébastien is at the table, arranging tiny plates for snack time like it’s a tasting menu at Le Bernardin.
And Mass? He’s in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, apron dusted in flour, humming off-key while baking what I’m sure is his third attempt at “nutritious muffins.”
Chaos. Beauty. My entire world in one sun-drenched room.
I lean in the doorway for a minute longer, watching Rowan scoop up our daughter just before she face-plants into a chair leg. Her free hand rests protectively on her stomach, her whole body instinctively curled around the little life we haven’t met yet.
Three kids. Two perfect Omegas. Four Alphas. One family that holds my entire damn heart. I never imagined it would feel like this. So full. So right.
I love her more than I did that day in Chicago when everything changed. I love all of them more now than I ever thought I could. We’ve built something real. Fierce. Unshakable.
The bond between us doesn’t just pulse, it thrums . It’s the way we move together. The way we protect each other. The way Rowan still grabs my hand in the dark, even when she’s sound asleep.
Business is steady and strategic. The Kingston name was already global, but now it’s untouchable. We didn’t just hold our ground, we expanded it. Diversified. Reinforced every corner of the empire. Xavier handles acquisitions like he’s playing chess three moves ahead. Mass and Seb turned the signature collection into an empire of its own, seasonal, luxury, timeless. And Laurent... well, no one handles high-profile drama and viral fame like he does.
Me? I’m still the one steering the ship. Building empires is in my blood. But this family, this bond, this life with them, is what I built everything else for.
Rowan looks up just then and catches me watching. She smiles, soft and warm and glowing in that way only she can. My chest tightens. She’s mine.
Xavier
I T FEELS LIKE A BLINK , and a lifetime. I’m stretched out on the floor beside the nest, propped on one elbow, pretending to supervise hover car chaos while keeping one eye on Rowan. She's laughing, soft and breathless, her belly heavy with our third. Seb’s watching her too, quiet from the kitchen table, his smile just as warm as the tea cooling beside him.
I never knew peace like this existed. Not for me. I used to think I'd never bond. That no one would ever feel safe enough, soft enough, mine enough to break through. The Ultra Alpha in me was too much for most. Too sharp, too instinctive. I'd accepted that. Wore it like armor.
Until Rowan. She crashed into my life with soft eyes, fierce independence, and that damn stubborn heart. She didn’t run from me; she walked straight into the storm. And Seb? He’d already seen every shadow inside me and never once flinched. Now I have both of them.
My scent lives on Rowan’s skin. Seb’s too. Every breath I take confirms it. Every soft moan in the night when the bonds hum too loud. Every touch that settles something in me I didn’t even know was restless.
I watch our children, our twins, all curls and wild giggles, weaving around Laurent’s legs and dodging Massimo’s attempts to feed them “just one more bite.” I should’ve known this would be the kind of chaos I’d end up craving.
Cole and I spent years building an empire that could withstand anything. Business hasn’t slowed, not even after all the attention. If anything, we’ve sharpened the edge. We don’t just dominate; we define the market now. The Kingston name doesn’t need defending. But our family? That, I’ll protect until my last breath.
I glance back at Rowan as she eases onto the couch with a soft groan. I’m already moving, lifting her feet into my lap without a word. Her smile is sleepy and grateful, and I swear I feel it in my chest.
“Five years,” she murmurs.
I press a kiss on her ankle. “Best five of my life.”
And I mean it. Because I’ve been a lot of things in this world. Feared. Respected. Dangerous. But this?
Massimo
T HE KITCHEN SMELLS like cinnamon, honey, and too many opinions. Laurent is arguing with a four-year-old over the rules of a race that has no rules. Cole’s pretending to read the paper, but he hasn’t turned a page in twenty minutes. Seb’s trying to coax a few slices of fruit into the twins between sips of tea, and Xavier’s doing that quiet, deadly still thing where he looks relaxed, but he’s actually tracking everyone’s movement in the room, especially Rowan’s.
Laurent is arguing with Cassian, our four-year-old son and full-time rule negotiator, over the rules of a race that clearly has none. Seb’s trying to coax a few slices of fruit into Lyra, who’s more interested in feeding them to her stuffed gryphon.
And me? I’m burning another tray of muffins. I could blame the recipe, but it’s not that. I’m distracted. Watching her. Rowan has sunk into the corner of the couch, hand resting over the curve of her belly, eyes closed, head tilted toward the sun pouring through the windows. She’s not asleep, just drifting. Letting herself be . That’s something we had to teach her, back then. That she was allowed to rest.
I turn off the oven and toss the ruined tray in the sink, then move to the counter to slice more apples. Something about the rhythm of it keeps me steady. Five years ago, I didn’t think I’d end up here. Not in a nest. Not part of a pack. Not deeply, irrevocably in love with a woman who wrecked every plan I ever made, with a laugh that stops time and eyes that know too much.
But she is my home. So is he. Sébastien, who stirs honey into tea like it’s sacred. Who knew every part of me without asking for more. Who held space for Rowan before she even understood what that meant.
And the others, our others. Cole, with the weight of the world on his shoulders and his hand always steady at our backs. Laurent, who pretends he doesn’t care but would kill for any of us without blinking. Xavier, who says little but means everything.
We’ve made something beautiful. Raw. Real. House of Aphrodite’s still thriving, more than thriving. We just launched our next seasonal capsule, and the waitlist crashed the site. Our scent-matched systems are the gold standard now. But I’ve stopped chasing perfection in the products. I already have it in this room.
Rowan stirs, her lashes fluttering open as she catches me staring. She smiles. Not for anyone else. Just me. Yeah. This is everything I didn’t know I needed.