52. Epilogue
Christopher
Six Months Later
A thick, celebratory blue ribbon stretches across the gleaming, meticulously restored entrance of the Sterling-Hammond building.
Six months.
That’s all it took. A breakneck pace combining Lucy’s deep knowledge of the building’s soul with my ruthless project management efficiency to bring this Art Deco jewel roaring back to life.
The building is fully leased and ready for occupancy. Our first tangible victory under Project Nightingale, silencing many doubters. What was a neglected landmark bleeding cash is now a fully restored, high-tech enabled commercial marvel.
The crowd, composed of prestigious new tenants, relieved investors, and eager press, buzzes with appreciative murmurs under the crisp autumn sky.
Cameras flash. Champagne glasses clink.
Lucy stands beside me, addressing the gathered press and investors. She looks radiant, powerful, every inch the CEO who dragged her family’s company back from the brink and silenced the doubters.
Six months.
Six months since her father’s second heart attack, since Mark’s failed takeover, since Morgan Weiss was unceremoniously ejected from the board amid scandal (with legal proceedings against him ongoing and satisfyingly brutal).
Six months since Lucy officially took the helm, navigating the SPE cleanup with transparency and rebuilding trust brick by painful brick.
“…and this project represents more than just restoring a historic landmark,” Lucy is saying, her voice clear and confident, carrying over the assembled crowd. “It embodies the Hammond & Co. commitment to blending legacy with innovation, creating sustainable value that respects both our city’s history and its future. A vision made possible through our partnership with Blackwell Innovations.” She turns, smiling at me, a private warmth beneath the public professionalism.
I step up to the microphone beside her, adding my own remarks about technological integration and market synergy. Corporate bullshit, mostly, but necessary.
What feels real is standing here beside her, a united front. Observing how her strategic foresight complements my analytical drive, how her passion for heritage balances my focus on the future.
We are, impossibly, better together. A synergy far more potent than any financial projection could capture.
Lucy makes the ceremonial cut, and the blue ribbon splits into two halves that flutter in the wind. The crowd cheers .
After the handshakes and obligatory photos, we ditch the lingering press. Our respective security details coordinate seamlessly, and we head to the hospital first. Richard Hammond had successful bypass surgery last week, a necessary step Dr. Finch recommended once his condition stabilized further.
He’s sitting up in his private room, looking frail but alert, the old stubborn spark back in his eyes. Lucy fusses over him, plumping pillows, checking his water pitcher.
I stand back, observing the easy affection between them.
“The grand re-opening went well?” Richard asks, his voice stronger than the last time I saw him.
“Perfectly, Dad,” Lucy assures him, showing him photos on her tablet. “We’ve got full occupancy already. The investors are super happy.”
Richard nods, satisfied.
He looks over at me. The old animosity is completely gone, replaced by a grudging, almost paternal respect.
“Good work, Christopher,” he says. “Thank you for taking care of my girl. And my company.”
“We’re taking care of each other, Richard,” I reply evenly.
He nods slowly, and winks at Lucy as he says, “I suppose you are.”
Later that afternoon, back in my office at Blackwell Innovations, Dominic Rossi drops by, sprawling comfortably on one of the chairs opposite my desk. He pours himself a drink from my bar without asking.
Some things never change.
“So,” he begins, swirling a glass of bourbon. “Heard the ceremony was a roaring success. The happy power couple, rebuilding New York one historic brick at a time.”
“Something like that,” I grunt, signing off on a final directive regarding board restructuring.
“Big plans now that the dust is settling?” he asks casually. “Thought maybe we could finally hit that new underground poker game…”
“Busy,” I state flatly. Consolidating the new joint venture structures. Overseeing the final stages of my father’s complete extraction from Blackwell Innovations. And… enjoying the fact that Lucy is actually, finally, completely moved into my penthouse. She’d held onto her old apartment up until last week, even though she hadn’t actually lived there in six months.
“Right.” Dominic grins. “Domestic bliss.” He takes a sip. “Actually, speaking of other kinds of bliss, I’m heading to Vegas next weekend myself. Marco’s finally tying the knot, if you can believe it.”
“ Vegas? For a wedding?” I look up. An ironic destination for Marco, given his history.
“Yep,” Dominic replies with a shrug. “Met her there.”
I nod. “I guess that makes sense. Funny. Tatiana mentioned she’s also heading there next weekend. Taking a rare few days off for some ‘Girls’ Trip’, she called it.”
When she’d told me, my first thought was surprise.
After all, this is Tatiana we’re talking about.
In Vegas, letting loose?
It’s hard for me to imagine my ruthlessly efficient executive assistant doing anything involving sequins or impulsive decisions.
I glance at Dominic, and raise an eyebrow, a flicker of the old mischief surfacing. “Maybe you two will run into each other at the roulette wheel. Could be fate.”
Or a fucking catastrophe.
Dominic bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his bourbon. “With your assistant?” He shakes his head. “She’s brilliant, terrifyingly competent, but ‘relaxing spontaneous fun?’ Not the first words that leap to mind.” He drains his glass. “Besides, my truly wild Vegas days are mostly behind me now.”
Mine too.
The thought lands with surprising lack of regret. Vegas used to be the default escape hatch. Me, Dominic, the jet, the penthouse suite at the Aria or Bellagio, a constantly rotating cast of beautiful, interchangeable women ensuring my bed never lacked for temporary company back .
It was a way of filling the silence between deals. Chasing the next empty thrill because lasting fulfillment felt like a fucking myth perpetuated by greeting card companies.
Now? The thought of that entire scene holds zero fucking appeal.
The noise, the superficiality, the endless chase… it seems exhausting, in retrospect. Pointless.
The only company I want is waiting for me back at the penthouse tonight.
Dominic gets up to leave, clapping me on the shoulder. “Anyway, glad to see things working out, Chris. Seriously. You earned it.”
Lucy arrives back at the penthouse that evening. She walks in, kicks off her shoes, and collapses onto the sofa with a contented sigh.
I pour her a glass of wine, settling beside her. The city lights glitter outside, no longer a kingdom to conquer, but simply… a view.
A backdrop to this life I never expected to have.
“Good day, CEO Hammond?” I murmur, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“Exhausting, but good,” she replies, leaning into my touch. “The re-opening felt… right.” She looks up at me, her eyes soft. “Thank you, Christopher. For saving that building. For saving Hammond & Co. For… everything.”
“It was a sound investment,” I deflect automatically, though we both know it was more than that. I look around the room, at her things subtly blending with mine. At her , curled comfortably beside me.
“Lucy,” I begin, wanting to reveal my true feelings, rather than deflecting again. “Working with you, fighting with you, fighting for you… it dismantled everything I thought I knew about myself. About business. About what actually matters.” I take her hand, holding her gaze. “My father built his empire on fear and destruction. But you showed me that was bullshit. That there is strength in integrity, in vulnerability, in building connections instead of burning them.” I bring her hand to my lips. “You say I saved Hammond & Co.? You’re wrong, you know... you saved me .”
Tears well up in her eyes, but she’s smiling.
“We saved each other, Christopher,” she whispers. “Maybe we had to start as enemies to truly understand how to be partners.”
Partners .
The thought settles deep inside me. The ghosts of the past are finally quiet.
Laid to rest.
I pull her close, burying my face in her hair, breathing in her familiar scent.
The ruthless businessman is still part of me, of course, and always will be. But it’s tempered now. Guided by a different compass. Pointed towards a different true north.
Her.
Our future won’t be without challenges. Integrating companies, navigating markets, dealing with the lingering fallout… there will be battles.
But we’ll face them together.
Not as adversaries, not even just as allies.
But true partners, in every sense of the word.
With Lucy beside me, I look out at the endless city lights once more. Yes, I feel no need to conquer anymore.
None at all.
We’ve already built our empire, right here.
And that’s the only victory that matters.
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