Epilogue #2
“I am,” Adrian said smoothly. “I’m just imagining you walking down the aisle to me again. Wearing less.”
“Adrian,” she warned under her breath.
He smirked, tilting his head toward the altar.
Just beside them, Dante lounged in the chair. His white suit was tailored to perfection, each crease sharp. His dark eyes scanned the crowd with an air of detached boredom—until they landed on Anya.
She was seated beside him, wrapped in a champagne-colored gown that hugged every curve. The soft glow of the setting sun kissed her flawless complexion, making her look almost ethereal.
His gaze darkened, tracing the elegant line of her neck, the subtle swell of her collarbone. He lowered his voice, almost a growl. “You didn’t tell me you were planning to wear this tonight.”
Anya’s perfectly arched eyebrow lifted in challenge. “You were too busy drowning in meetings and deals to take me dress shopping. Now you’re not allowed to be jealous when others look at me.”
“Jealous?” He shook his head, the lie effortless. “I’m not jealous. But if one more fool tries to flirt with you during the reception, I’ll have them thrown out.”
Anya snorted, nudging him lightly with her shoulder.
Then, suddenly, the music shifted.
Every head turned.
There, at the end of the aisle, stood Krystal.
The world slowed.
Her wedding gown shimmered in the golden light, soft layers cascading like a waterfall of silk. The veil framed her glowing face as her bouquet of blush roses and peonies trembled slightly in her hands.
Lorenzo forgot how to breathe.
His heart slammed against his ribs. He had seen her in every light, every emotion, every version of herself—and still, nothing could’ve prepared him for this.
She looked like a dream.
His dream.
Their eyes locked across the garden. A sea of people disappeared. The laughter faded. All he saw was her.
She reached him slowly, each step careful. And when she finally stood before him, he whispered, voice barely holding steady, “Hi.”
Krystal smiled, cheeks flushing. “Hi, baby.”
***
After the I-dos and the kiss that made Stella fan herself dramatically, and had Kara, Ellie, and Anya whooping like they were at a concert instead of a wedding, the reception kicked off in full force—with loud music, endless champagne, and food stations that looked like they were stolen straight out of a royal palace.
Krystal was laughing near the fairy-light arch with Ivy, Sienna, and Jane when she suddenly paused mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Wait... where’s Lorenzo?”
Cue chaos.
Across the room, Lorenzo was pacing by the chocolate fountain like a man on a mission, frowning at a very nervous-looking waiter.
“She’s pregnant,” he said firmly, gesturing like he was pointing out a fire hazard. “She can’t have soft cheese. That tray shouldn’t even be near her.”
The waiter blinked. “Sir… it’s ten feet away.”
“Exactly. That’s too close. What if a breeze blows it near her plate? What if someone gets confused and offers her brie?” He turned sharply, eyes scanning the crowd like a bodyguard on high alert. “Is anyone holding wine near her? No? Good.”
From behind, Krystal approached, utterly confused. “Lorenzo, what on earth are you doing?”
He spun around, visibly startled. “This entire place is a hazard! Someone even gave you a drink with caffeine! You didn’t drink it, right? Please tell me you didn’t.”
Krystal blinked, holding up her glass. “It’s lemonade, Lorenzo.”
He let out a breath like he’d just defused a bomb. “Oh, thank God. I’ll still have the chef change it. Just in case the lemons were… too strong.”
She stared at him, deadpan. “Why do you still treat me like I’m a delicate woman?”
Without hesitation, he blinked. “Because you are?”
Krystal rolled her eyes and spun on her heel, moving away quickly—cradling her lemonade like it was state-protected evidence—before he could snatch it out of her hand too.
Back near the bar, Lorenzo still hadn’t moved. His jaw tightened every time Krystal laughed—he couldn’t even see the damn mocktail from this distance. What if someone passed her the wrong glass? What if she didn’t know the difference between a mojito and a martini?
“Do you need binoculars?” Mason asked dryly, lifting a brow.
“I need her to sit down and not exist within a 10-foot radius of fermented liquids,” Lorenzo muttered, narrowing his eyes again. “Do you think someone might mistake her drink? What if she grabs the wrong glass—”
Mason stared at him blankly. “Brother. She’s talking to three women who would burn the world down if anyone even breathed wrong near her.”
Lorenzo didn’t look convinced. “She’s just… I don’t even think she knows what rum is. I once saw her hold a wine glass upside down. She probably thinks vodka is a perfume brand.”
Just then, Ellie happened to walk by, catching the tail end of his muttering. She snorted, covering her mouth to hide the laugh. “You do realize Krystal once pretended she was sleeping with Damion just to make you jealous, right?”
Lorenzo didn’t even flinch. “She was framed,” he replied flatly, in the tone of a man who had already decided on his version of reality and would die on that hill.
“She didn’t know what she was doing. Damion—” he grit his teeth, jaw ticking, “—definitely filled her head with that nonsense just to get under my skin. She’s innocent. End of discussion.”
Ellie let out a full-on snicker as she walked away, shaking her head. “Delusional. But cute.”
Krystal and her friends had heard every word.
Ivy doubled over laughing. “What the hell is going on? Why does he still think you’re the most innocent person to ever walk this earth?”
“I don’t know!” Krystal cried out between fits of giggles.
“It’s been over a year since we got back together, and I haven’t even pretended for a second!
I don’t know why he still thinks I faint at the sight of alcohol and think condoms are breath mints.
” Krystal took a deep breath, pausing to breathe.
“It’s like he’s in love with a Disney princess version of me that only exists in his head. ”
“He legit said she thinks vodka is perfume,” Ellie gasped, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes.
Jane cackled. “He thinks you’re made of clouds and fairy dust.”
They were all laughing now, full and unfiltered.
“I do,” Lorenzo’s voice suddenly cut in from behind her. The group stilled as he appeared like a shadow.
He pulled her gently by the waist, eyes flicking over her face like he was checking for any signs of danger, fatigue, dehydration—hell, possibly a sneeze.
“You shouldn’t be standing this long,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Krystal raised a brow, mock-annoyed. “I’m pregnant, Lorenzo. Not sick.”
“All the same,” he said, like that was the only explanation needed.
At the nearby table, Adrian, Dante, and Christian leaned in like spectators at a live comedy show.
“Okay,” Adrian said, nudging Christian. “New game—how long before Lorenzo takes that lemonade out of her hand and replaces it with water?”
“I give it ten minutes,” Christian said.
“Five,” Dante smirked.
“I say one,” Darren chimed in from the side, lazily sipping his whiskey with a grin. “He’s leaning closer again.”
As if perfectly choreographed, Lorenzo narrowed his eyes at Krystal’s drink.
Krystal caught the movement. Her hand immediately wrapped tighter around the glass. “Touch my lemonade,” she warned in a deadpan voice, “and I will bite you.”
A ripple of laughter spread through the group.
“Now, who’s getting married next?” Ellie asked brightly, glancing around as she leaned into Sawyer’s side.
“Triston,” Raiden drawled, appearing beside Jane with perfect timing.
He slipped an arm around her waist with the ease of a man who’d done it a thousand times before, his eyes flicking toward the scene near the mic stand.
Triston was now standing in the middle of the dance floor, spinning in place like a tipsy ballerina.
“I’m a free spirit!” Triston declared, arms wide as he twirled, champagne sloshing dangerously in his glass.
“You’re a drunk spirit,” Christian called from behind.
Stella buried her face in her hands. “Why is he like this?”
“Hey, Triston!” Sienna shouted from her seat beside Adrian. “Propose to the microphone next. You two already have chemistry.”
Triston bowed toward the mic stand. “Darling, you’ve always been here for me.”
“I swear to God,” muttered Dante from behind his wine glass, though the twitch in his lips betrayed amusement.
Meanwhile, Lorenzo had stopped hovering and simply settled behind Krystal like an overprotective shadow. His hand rested gently on her shoulder, thumb stroking absentmindedly over her skin. She leaned into the touch with a soft smile, holding her drink hostage like it was sacred.
Around them, laughter flowed. Jokes flew. Glasses clinked. Kisses were stolen mid-sentence. Some danced barefoot on the grass, others swayed slowly under the fairy lights.
People who had once been strangers, now tied together by fate, love, chaos, and a whole lot of unforgettable memories.
And as fireworks lit the sky, the music shifted and fireworks lit the velvet sky outside. Gold and crimson bursts painted the night. Gasps and cheers echoed across the garden.
Krystal tilted her head up, watching the lights reflect in Lorenzo’s eyes. Her hand slipped into his.
“This is the life I always wanted,” she whispered, heart swelling.
Lorenzo bent to kiss her temple, his lips warm and soft against her skin. “It’s only the beginning, baby.”
And with that promise, under a sky of light and surrounded by friends turned family, they all stepped into their forever.
***
Dear Reader,
You’ve just finished the final book in the Obsessed Billionaires, Cherished Brides series.
Thank you for reading, crying, obsessing, and loving alongside my characters.
Their stories may be complete, but the obsession isn’t over...
This world isn’t ending—it’s just evolving.
In my upcoming series, you’ll meet new billionaires with darker desires, deeper scars, and even more dangerous love stories…
And yes, familiar faces will return.
Expect unexpected visits, surprise cameos, and connections that run deeper than ever imagined.
I'm excited to introduce my brand-new series:
Possessive Billionaires, Precious Sweethearts
Go to the next page for an exclusive glimpse!