Epilogue
Four months later
T he city is shrouded in thick fog this morning, the usual bright sun replaced by a murky, brooding sky. Buildings rise like ghosts through the white haze, and the damp, earthy scent of rain seeps through the window.
Four months ago, West and I exposed the truth. Since then, each month has crawled by with stressful paperwork, confrontational interviews, paparazzi hovering near our homes, and the strain of nonstop planning. But from the rubble of Lucas’s dynasty, we’ve begun to build something different—an honest, transparent empire, free of the blood, lies, and schemes that once hid beneath his foundations.
As soon as Jeremy, our lawyer, enters the room, I shift my focus from the window, my hands instinctively clasping together. He places his bag on the seat next to him, smooths his blazer, and sits down, ready to begin.
Turning his full attention to West, he starts the usual rundown of the investigation process, droning through the basic steps. West grows visibly tense, rubbing his hands together as the details intensify. Instead of cracking his knuckles, he moves one hand to his shoulder, patting it gently. That little gesture never fails to make me smile. It’s his way of wordlessly asking me to hold his hand, one of the cutest things he does to stay grounded.
I move closer, letting my fingers glide over his knuckles before intertwining them with his, forming a steady lock. He exhales a shaky breath, his gaze fixed on Jeremy, and I feel the tension drain from him, like air slowly escaping a balloon.
These past four months have tested us, yet we’ve found a balance I never thought we’d achieve. Neither of us has tamed our impulsiveness, and perhaps we never will, but we’ve learned to support and balance each other. My calculated rationality steadies him when he’s ready to bash someone’s brains in, and his quiet pride and affection ground me whenever I feel like tearing someone apart.
Even when we’re both one step away from losing our minds, we find a way to handle it. The anger-induced headache shifts to one brought on by the sheer number of orgasms we share. Maybe it’s not the healthiest escape, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Your father has already been taken into custody, which means the court has determined there’s enough evidence to detain him before the formal trial begins. This is a significant step. The next stage is the arraignment—the formal reading of the charges against him.”
“Do you think he’ll try to enter a plea and find a way out?” West asks. “I heard he already tried to create a fucking fundraiser website for himself.”
Yeah, Lucas is one of those people who will fight until his last breath, even while covered in shit that can’t be washed away.
Jeremy shrugs. “It’s possible. There are still plenty of people who support him and don’t believe he did what he’s accused of, even with all the evidence against him. It will take a long time for him to accept that nothing can save him now. The chances of him getting a fair hearing are minimal. His defense team already tried to dismiss some of the evidence and limit what can be used against him, and look at how miserably they failed.”
That’s a small victory, but it doesn’t mean we’ve won the war. We’re battling a monster that has been feasting on its prey for years, and we can’t take him down as quickly as we’d like.
Jeremy delves deeper into the legal process, reiterating that it won’t be as easy as it seems. We’ve only just begun, and as we go further, the challenges will grow tougher.
I give West’s hand a slight squeeze, feeling a swell of pride within me. Despite the amount of work ahead, I’m proud of what we have accomplished so far. The decision we made wasn’t easy. Our companies suffered, and as their heirs, we undeniably felt the impact. Many have already turned their backs on us, but thankfully, we have a plan.
Jeremy tilts his head, his brown eyes locking with mine as he clasps his hands together. “Okay, Venetia. The process is the same for your father—he faces the same punishment as Lucas for being his accomplice. Despite that, Adrian has repeatedly said he wants to speak with you. Have you changed your mind yet?”
I exhale heavily, closing my eyes as I mull over his words. Both Lucas and my father suffered the same way—one bright, sunny morning, the FBI barged in and took them straight from their beds. It feels almost poetic to realize the fate they share, given how close these two tyrants were.
Neither West nor I bothered to visit them or give them ‘a chance to explain themselves’.
“No, I haven’t changed my mind,” I reply confidently. “What’s next on the list?”
Jeremy nods in understanding. “We need more evidence to completely rule out your and West’s direct involvement in the shady operations. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again—if you remember anything new or are still hesitant to tell me something, now is the time.”
“Yeah,” I blurt out, keeping my gaze fixed on him as West guides my hand to his lips, planting a gentle kiss. “Everything I told you before is the truth. Neither my husband nor I knew what they were up to behind our backs. And the things we were curious about?” I let out a dramatic sigh, emphasizing my frustration, unable to hide the satisfaction I take in shitting on my father and Lucas. “They’ve threatened to silence us for good if we keep asking questions.”
That’s only partially true, but Jeremy doesn’t need to know the details. I’ve always been cautious at work, triple-checking to ensure my name isn’t tied to any of the shady dealings my father was involved in. West and I made sure our reputations stayed as clean as possible.
Jeremy knows exactly what he needs to know—nothing more, nothing less.
“I believe you,” he replies. “To counter this, we’ll compile financial records, communications, and any other documentation supporting your non-involvement. Our goal is to demonstrate that you had no hand in the decisions or profits related to these schemes.”
His eyes flicker between us, a reassuring smile spreading across his face. “We’re being transparent. There’s nothing to worry about.”
If you had told me a year ago that I would turn my back on my father, I would have laughed in your face. I never thought I could do such a thing, but West gave me the push I needed to recognize my potential.
I’m not a puppet to be manipulated. I’m a woman capable of achieving great things, including running the business I’ve dedicated myself to.
I’ve tried to provide West with the same encouragement. The drug operation Lucas forced him into—managing it under the company’s roof—crumbled and fell apart once Lucas landed behind bars. West is clean now, practically starting his life anew without substances. We went through hell to help him break free from drugs, and we fucking succeeded.
And me? I’m improving too. When the temptation to numb out with a Xanax or a drink hits, I fight it. I make myself speak up, sharing my feelings with my husband instead. He’s helping me break the habit of shutting down and teaching me to trust him with my emotions.
This is the toughest challenge I’ve ever taken on, yet it makes me feel so much better than all those times I drowned myself in drugs or alcohol. Trauma doesn’t just disappear, but I’m pushing forward, refusing to let fear and my demons take control.
While the court deals with our parents, we need to clear our names. Their actions have tarnished the reputation of our companies, but that doesn’t mean we can’t regain trust. As Jeremy said, the process has already begun.
I’ve finally stopped being afraid and paranoid, openly taking credit for my animal rescue center. When West found out about it, it felt like he fell for me all over again. I never would have guessed that a tough man like him could be moved by something like this, but I was wrong. Now, when we’re free from work, we both visit the center to help out the staff.
And his dream has finally come true. We took Delilah out of the nursing home, and now she’s helping us with the rebuild. Well, ‘helping’ is a strong word—mostly, she sits in a chair with a cigarette tucked between her teeth, commanding everyone in the office. She snaps at the poor secretaries whenever they don’t put enough sugar in her coffee, but they never seem to get it right.
Her presence means a lot to us. I’m happier knowing that someone who brought so much light into West’s life is nearby.
Right now, our goal is to demonstrate that we are moving forward with integrity and purpose as we take charge of our companies. There’s a lot of tedious work ahead of us, but we’re ready for it. After all, our lives have revolved around this business. There’s nothing we can’t do. Deep down, we’ve always known we were meant to rule—to build our own empire.
“Give us a moment,” West commands, dismissing Jeremy.
He offers us a quick smile, grabs his bag, and walks out of the room in silence. The door hasn’t even fully shut before West’s hands find my hips, tugging me toward him. His face hovers near the side of my leg, his lips brushing softly against the exposed skin at the cut of my dress. My eyes flutter closed, and I gasp as his warm breath caresses my skin, fingers threading through his hair.
“My wife,” he murmurs, kissing my exposed flesh and sending a rush of pleasure through me. Hearing those two words from him feels profoundly special—like being truly treasured.
Being loved.
When he looks up and his eyes lock with mine, I bite my bottom lip, feeling a surge of tingling joy that wipes away all rational thought. Each time he looks at me, it feels like the first moment all over again.
“Come here,” he says, his hands untangling from my legs as he pulls me into his lap. I laugh as my arms snake around his neck, settling onto his knees.
These are the moments that give me the best kind of bliss—when he’s so desperate, like he can’t stand even a moment without me. He’s a walking, talking addiction—always craving, always needing, always wanting more. It’s a good kind of crazy. The best kind of crazy.
His oceanic eyes hold my gaze before tracing the curve of my cheek as he brushes a stray lock of hair from my face. The air crackles with unspoken desire, and I refuse to wait any longer. I surge forward, my lips meeting his in a collision of need as the world tilts on its axis. My fingers clutch the collar of his shirt, wrinkling the thin fabric as I try to steady myself.
The kiss lingers, a delicious ache that seems to stretch forever. When he pulls away, he chuckles, the sound a warm breeze against my skin. My heart stumbles, a familiar thrill flowing through me—a reminder of the magic we share. The realization settles deep in my stomach, just as it always does—the same undeniable feeling.
I chose to burn in hell beside him, and I’ve never felt more alive.
“Did Chloe try to call you again this morning?” I ask, eager to change the subject before I jump on him right here with people waiting outside. It would be utterly unprofessional on my part. “I heard how frustrated you were. Was she asking for money again?”
His sister has been calling both of us since this all started, demanding that we stop and help Lucas in some way. Not out of love for her father, but because she’s lost her source of money and doesn’t know how to get it. West didn’t take everything from the stash they had, leaving her enough to start her own little business, but she wasted it all on partying, and now she’s whining that she can’t pay her bills.
Despite Lucas wanting her to play a major role in the company, she’s slumped like a puppet with its strings cut since he was put behind bars. She’s too clueless to come up with any plans, and therein lies the irony: Lucas’s lovable angel has practically betrayed him.
“She was,” West replies bluntly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck. My eyes roll as he plants a small kiss there, his gentle touch sending goosebumps across my skin. His hands are on my waist, squeezing possessively. “But I don’t give a shit about Chloe. I don’t give a shit about anything, baby girl, except you.”
“Is that so?” I challenge, and he lifts his head, meeting the glimmer in my eyes. “You know, I don’t think it’s healthy to be so clingy.”
An arrogant smirk curves his lips. “Want me to stop?” he asks, already knowing my answer.
“Never.”
Using every ounce of strength, I pry his hands from my waist and bring them to mine. The heat that spreads through me as I see my small hands nestled in his large, veiny ones is blissful, each time feeling like the first. “I still can’t believe we actually did this,” I whisper. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“It’s all your doing,” he says softly. When I give him a questioning look, he adds, “You’re the reason I’m whole. Without you, I’d fall apart. And none of this would be possible.”
I bite my lip, trying to hold back the wave of emotions threatening to spill over. He’s always been so guarded, so closed off. Lately, he’s been opening up to me more and more, and still, it’s a bit disarming. I find myself completely captivated. “Keep saying things like this, and I might start thinking you’re in love with me.”
“I’m not in love with you, Netia.” Strong hands magnetize back to my waist, a familiar dance of desire. His eyes hold a gleam of passion, a fire that reflects the heat rising within me, the comfort of his touch, and the promise of something extraordinary. “I love you. More than fucking anything.”
I try to breathe, but my lungs feel constricted, filled with a nervous energy that makes my heart pound against my ribs. He presses me closer, reminding me to breathe, but my body is caught in a storm of feelings—one that he, as always, is the center of.
Though it doesn’t take long for me to respond. “I love you too.”
And no matter how hard he tries to maintain his composure, I see through him—the depth of feeling reflected in his eyes, the pulse of emotion in his chest. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, trying to hold back a smile, but I steal it from him, kissing him once again.
I’m so down for him, it’s fucking ridiculous.
Every sunset marks the end of another day, and the one I look forward to most is coming home to him. To the only man in the world who will always be there for me.
Just as I will always be there for him.