Epilogue
Poppy
One Year Later
F ifteen months ago, I stepped off a plane in Nice and battled my way through the ruckus to find a taxi, utterly clueless about what my future would hold.
Now, I’m standing in the grand hall of my university, dressed in a cap and gown, my name about to be called to collect my first-class honours degree in Fashion Design and Business Management.
I take a steadying breath, smoothing down the fabric of the dress I’ve designed for today. It’s a classic and elegant ivory piece, subtly embroidered with flowers.
And one that belongs to my brand .
A brand that didn’t even exist a year ago. A brand that launched just before Christmas and, within weeks, changed everything.
Since then, my life has been manic.
My website crashed twice when my Spanish Grand Prix dress sold out within minutes of launching. My collections consistently sell out within hours. We’ve expanded into two offices - one in London, one in Paris - and we’re already planning further expansion.
Demand is sky-high, business is booming, and I still can’t quite believe it.
But right now, none of that matters.
Because my name is being called.
Because I am walking across the stage in my cap and gown, collecting my degree - my first-class honours degree - while applause erupts through the hall.
And because when I look out into the crowd, he’s there.
Frederic Moreau, sitting beside my parents, grinning at me like he’s never been prouder of anything in his life.
His hands come together in a slow clap, his smirk impossibly fond as he watches me cross the stage. My mother dabs at her eyes with a tissue, my father nods in approval, and Frederic -
Frederic winks at me.
It’s so him.
I bite back a laugh as I descend the steps, my heart pounding, my hands clutching the certificate tightly as I return to my seat.
* * *
After the ceremony, we step outside into the late summer sun, a perfect day for celebration.
I barely have time to process anything before I’m wrapped in strong, familiar arms, my feet lifting off the ground as Frederic spins me once before setting me down gently.
"You did it, mon ange ," he murmurs against my temple, his lips warm against my skin.
I exhale sharply, overwhelmed. "I can't believe it. "
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes dancing with something unreadable.
"I can."
I smile, my chest warm, so full I think I might burst.
"Photo time!" my mother announces, and I roll my eyes as she ushers us together.
Frederic slides his arm around my waist as we pose for picture after picture - some with my parents, some the four of us, and, finally, just the two of us.
“One more!” my father says, camera in hand.
Frederic smirks down at me, his thumb brushing idly against my hip before he kisses me.
The camera clicks, and my mother sighs dramatically.
“That’ll be the one to be framed,” she says.
I laugh, turning to Frederic, shaking my head.
“You just had to do that, didn’t you?”
His grin is unapologetic. “Couldn’t help myself.”
I press my face into his chest, inhaling deeply. His schedule has been insanely busy recently, and yet...
"Thank you for being here."
He tightens his grip around me. "There was never a chance I’d miss this."
* * *
We walk towards the car together, my gown flowing behind me, my heels clicking softly against the pavement.
He leans in close.
“So, now that you're officially a graduate, how do you want to celebrate?”
I arch a brow.
“You mean aside from the very fancy dinner you’ve already planned?”
“Yes. Aside from that.”
I hum, pretending to think. “Well, I suppose I could let you buy me another piece of jewelry…”
He laughs, shaking his head.
“I created a monster.”
“You love it,” I grin, slipping my hand into his, our fingers lacing together with ease.
He squeezes my hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles.
“I do,” he agrees. “I love you .”
My heart stumbles.
He first told me he loved me at Christmas.
He hasn’t stopped saying it since.
And the truth is, I haven’t stopped saying it either.
I look up at him, my perfect, infuriating, arrogant, impossible man.
Fifteen months ago, I never could have imagined this.
I never could have imagined having a career that’s flourishing, a life that is everything I ever dreamed of and more. I never could have imagined that I wouldn’t just find myself.
That I wouldn’t just find Monaco. That I wouldn’t just find success.
That I would find him , too.
And I wouldn’t change a single second of it.
The End