Epilogue
“Grandpa!”
Anya’s voice rang through the hall as she ran toward James and hugged him from behind. He turned around, his face lighting up as he pulled her into a warm embrace.
“You’re glowing, sweetheart,” James chuckled, kissing the top of her head.
Griffin stepped forward, arms open. Anya slipped out of James’s arms and hurried into Griffin’s, giggling as he enveloped her in a tight hug.
Griffin tilted her head gently, inspecting her with the soft sternness only he could manage. “Where are you coming from?”
“I was at the office with Dante,” she replied.
Griffin’s eyes immediately narrowed. He glanced down at her baby bump, now clearly showing six months along. His jaw tightened, and his grip on his cane became visibly tense. With a sharp thud, he slammed it against the floor.
“He’s still making you go to the office in this condition?” Griffin barked, glaring. “Let him come home. I swear I’ll beat that boy black and blue today. How dare he—”
Anya laughed and quickly shook her head, holding his arm. “No, no! It’s not like that, Grandpa. He doesn’t make me work. I just sit there… like a statue. He says he needs me in front of him or he can’t concentrate.”
She blushed slightly and continued, “He even broke down a wall in his office and made a whole bedroom next door. It’s all decorated. Cozy. He just walks in and checks on me whenever he wants. Or I go sit on the couch and watch him work.”
Griffin looked at her like she had just told him Dante built a shrine. “He made a bedroom inside his office?”
A new voice rang through the room, smooth and familiar. “Because I want to keep watch on my wife. I can’t have her running across the city with my child while I’m stuck worrying in the office.”
Dante’s deep voice echoed as he entered, confidence in every step. His eyes immediately found Anya, and he closed the distance between them in seconds. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her flush to his chest and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.
He turned to face the older men, not loosening his hold on Anya. “You two have been gallivanting around the globe ever since you got together. Is the world tour finally over, or should we expect you to vanish again next week?”
He clapped a hand onto James’s shoulder, teasing, “You’re not twenty-five anymore. Maybe try staying in one place for once?”
James rolled his eyes, laughing, while Griffin lifted his cane again and smacked Dante on the back of the leg.
“Watch your mouth, boy.”
Dante winced and stumbled, rubbing the spot. “Ow! What is it with you and that stick?!”
“Respect your elders,” Griffin muttered, but there was no real heat in his tone.
Anya leaned into Dante, her hand on her belly, glowing with laughter and love.
“Anya is ten years younger than you,” Griffin muttered with a smirk. “Let’s see what you say when you’re my age, and she’s still looking like a young, pretty thing while you turn into an old geezer.”
“When I’m your age,” Dante snapped back without missing a beat, “I’ll lock her up in our room so only I get to see her.”
Griffin let out a bark of laughter, clapping James on the back and pulling him along. “Leave this brat alone,” he said. “You and I can still outwalk most twenty-five-year-olds, brother.”
The two older men walked off, their laughter fading down the hall, leaving Anya and Dante behind.
Dante turned his eyes to her, and the moment their gazes met, his entire expression softened. Without a word, he stepped closer, bent down, and swept her up into his arms.
“Dante,” Anya laughed, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m heavy now. You really don’t have to carry me up and down every single time.”
“What do you think I go to the gym for?” he grinned, watching every step carefully as he carried her up the stairs. “You’re clumsy and distracted half the time. What if you missed a step and tumbled down? My two precious things are safer in my arms.”
She let out a soft snicker, tightening her hold on him. “You know what?” she mumbled, smiling against his neck. “I actually like this. Now you’re stuck carrying me even after I give birth.”
“For as long as you want,” he murmured, “and as long as my back doesn’t give out.”
She giggled, her heart fluttering as he kicked open the bedroom door and walked inside.
He didn’t lay her down immediately. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed first, then gently adjusted her to sit in his lap. Her legs dangled between his as he cradled her close, both arms wrapped securely around her waist, her body resting against his chest.
Then Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
“Here,” he whispered, opening it slowly.
Anya’s eyes lit up as she looked inside. “Oh wow,” she breathed, lifting the delicate piece. It was a golden toe ring attached to a fine chain, which was in turn connected to a longer chain with a small clasp at the end.
“Is it... for the hand?” she asked, confused.
He chuckled and shook his head, then gently helped her sit on the edge of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he removed her slipper with care and slid the ring onto the second toe of her right foot. The finer chain trailed up her foot, the longer one wrapping around her ankle before he clasped it in place. The gold shimmered under the soft bedroom lights.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, eyes lifting to meet hers. She was staring at it in awe.
“This is gorgeous,” she whispered.
He smiled, slow and full of heat, then leaned down—his lips brushing against her skin as he kissed his way up her leg. Each kiss was soft, warm, and maddeningly slow, making her thighs tense with anticipation.
When he reached her inner thigh, she let out a shaky breath. “Hey…” she whispered, but it came out as a moan, breathless and weak.
His eyes flicked up to hers, dark with desire. A wicked smirk curled on his lips.
“You know…” he said, his voice a soft, teasing murmur as his hand slid up her thigh, slipping beneath the thin fabric that barely covered her. “I only buy you these rings so I have an excuse to admire you in my bed... wearing only my gift.”
He leaned in closer, his lips following the same path as his fingers, warm breath brushing over her sensitive skin. “Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
She gasped, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her as his mouth finally reached her center.
His fingers pushed aside the thin fabric of her panties. His tongue slid between her folds, slow and deep, drawing out a moan that echoed through the room. Her body jolted, hips arching toward his mouth on instinct, chasing the pressure that made her toes curl.
He groaned against her, like her taste drove him wild.
His hands pinned her thighs open, keeping her right where he wanted—spread out for him, trembling, helpless. He licked her again, slower this time, dragging the flat of his tongue up her soaked core before flicking her clit with just enough pressure to make her cry out.
“That’s it…” he murmured against her, voice muffled but hungry. “This is the only thing I want from you.”
Her fingers found his hair, tugging tightly as pleasure exploded through her body. She could barely breathe. Every stroke of his tongue sent a jolt of heat racing through her, and her thighs began to shake.
He looked up briefly, his lips glistening, eyes burning with possessive pride.
Then he dipped his head again—and didn’t stop until she was trembling and breathless, falling apart under his mouth like she’d never felt anything that good in her life.
***
He believed she’d come running back—now he’s running after her.
“You love me unconditionally, but I want a divorce. I need to marry someone else.”
When Lorenzo Moretti said those words, he watched the light die in Krystal Vale’s eyes.
For two years, she had been the perfect wife—sweet, obedient, calling him ‘baby,’ delivering his meals three times a day, rain or shine. A woman with no family, no friends, no complaints. Just devotion to a man who never once looked back.
“I’ll give you anything in return. A hundred million,” he offered.
“I don’t want it. Let’s get a divorce,” she replied, and vanished before he even got home.
He thought she would return once she grew tired.
She never did.
Somehow, tracking down his orphaned housewife with no ties has become impossible for the richest billionaire in the country—and it’s driving him mad!
Krystal couldn’t be happier leaving that ‘Human Cactus’ behind. Who even wants to stay married to him?
Now, she asks for a divorce every single day, and for some reason, he’s the one losing his mind.
Isn’t he the one who asked for this?