Epilogue
MILLIE
Six months later…
I stand in front of a floor-length mirror, barely recognizing myself.
The woman staring back is elegant, polished, wearing a gown that costs more than most people's cars.
Custom Vera Wang—white silk that catches the Greek sunlight streaming through the windows, fitted bodice with delicate beading that took artisans months to complete, flowing skirt that pools at my feet like liquid moonlight.
One hundred fifty thousand dollars for a dress I'll wear once.
Maxwell insisted. Of course he did.
My hair falls in elegant waves, secured with a vintage diamond hairpin he presented me with last night.
Thirty-five thousand dollars for a hair accessory.
The engagement ring on my finger has been joined by its matching wedding band—more diamonds, platinum, the set probably worth enough to buy a house.
"You look like a princess." Jessica circles me, examining every detail. "No, scratch that—you look like a queen."
Sophie adjusts my veil, her hands gentle. "I still can't believe this is real. You're marrying Maxwell Graves. The billionaire."
"I'm marrying Maxwell," I correct, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "The man I love."
But yes, the billionaire part is still surreal. Even after six months of living in his world, wearing his ring, sharing his bed and his life, I sometimes wake up convinced it's all a dream.
The dressing room around us is chaos of the expensive variety—professional stylists Maxwell hired fussing with makeup palettes, two wedding coordinators checking their tablets, my bridesmaid dresses hanging on a rack near the window.
Everything is white and gold, overlooking the Aegean Sea through massive windows.
The venue itself is breathtaking. Cliffside, overlooking water so blue it looks photoshopped.
Two hundred guests will sit in perfectly arranged white chairs, surrounded by flowers Maxwell had flown in from three different countries.
Peonies, roses, orchids—hundreds of thousands of dollars in floral arrangements alone.
A string orchestra is warming up somewhere below. Live, expensive, perfect.
Everything Maxwell touches turns to gold and excess.
A knock interrupts my thoughts.
One of the coordinators opens the door, tablet pressed to her chest. "Ms. Carter, two guests have just arrived. Your mother and Mr. Frank Graves."
My heart stops.
"What?"
"They're asking to see you before the ceremony. Should I?—"
"Yes." The word comes out strangled. "Send them in."
Jessica and Sophie exchange looks. They know the history—the ultimatum, the estrangement, the months of painful silence.
"We'll give you privacy." Jessica squeezes my hand before ushering everyone out.
The door closes behind them. I'm alone, heart pounding against the beaded bodice, hands shaking.
I haven't seen my mother in six months. Not since that awful day in Maxwell's penthouse when she issued her ultimatum and I chose him. We've exchanged a few texts—stilted, brief, nothing of substance. I sent a wedding invitation two months ago, formal and elegant, but heard nothing back.
I assumed she wasn't coming. That she'd chosen to stay away, to keep her distance from the daughter who fell in love with her stepbrother.
The door opens.
Mom enters first, and I barely recognize her. She looks older, tired, wearing a formal dress I've never seen before. Frank follows, hanging back near the door, giving us space.
Mom's eyes fill with tears the moment she sees me.
"Oh, honey. You look beautiful."
"Mom." My own voice breaks. "You came."
"I almost didn't." She approaches slowly, like I might disappear if she moves too fast. "I've been so angry, so hurt by everything."
She stops a few feet away, wringing her hands. "But Frank talked sense into me. He said I was making a mistake cutting you off."
Frank nods from his position by the door. "Family is family. Even when they make choices we don't understand."
"I'm sorry." Mom's tears spill over. "I'm so sorry for the ultimatum, for cutting you off, for not supporting you when you needed me."
My own tears start, threatening to ruin the professional makeup. "I'm sorry too. I never wanted to hurt you."
She closes the distance, pulls me into her arms. We hold each other, both crying, six months of pain and longing compressed into this moment.
When she pulls back, she wipes her eyes carefully. "Maxwell loves you. I've seen it in how he's handled everything. He's been respectful, sent invitations to both Frank and me, never badmouthed us even when he had every right to."
She cups my face, searching my expression. "And you love him. That's clear too. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you're glowing right now."
"I do." My voice is firm despite the tears. "So much."
"Then I give you my blessing. Officially." She kisses my forehead. "I'm sorry it took me so long to see what was right in front of me."
Frank approaches after Mom steps back, his expression gentle.
"Millie, would you allow me to walk you down the aisle? I know I'm not your father, but I'd be honored."
Surprise floods through me. "Really? After everything?"
"You're family. And Maxwell is my son. This unites us, strange as the circumstances are." He offers a small smile. "Besides, someone needs to give you away properly."
"I'd like that. Thank you."
Frank's expression grows serious. "He's a good man, my son. Stubborn, controlling, arrogant as hell?—"
I laugh through my tears. "I'm aware."
"But he loves completely. When he commits to something, he doesn't waver. You'll never doubt his devotion." Frank's eyes soften. "That's worth more than all his money combined."
Mom dabs at her eyes again. "We should let you finish getting ready. We'll take our seats."
They move toward the door, but Mom pauses. "I love you, sweetheart. I'm proud of you."
"I love you too, Mom."
The door closes behind them. I'm alone again, staring at my reflection, trying to process what just happened.
My mother is here. Frank is here. They're supporting me.
I touch the diamond necklace at my throat—the first gift Maxwell gave me, at Tiffany's six months ago. Twenty-five thousand dollars of Tiffany diamonds that marked me as his.
Everything is falling into place.
Jessica and Sophie return with the stylists, fixing my makeup, adding final touches. Someone hands me my bouquet—white roses and peonies, wrapped in silk ribbon.
The coordinator checks her tablet. "Five minutes, Ms. Carter."
Five minutes until I become Mrs. Maxwell Graves.
Five minutes until I marry my stepbrother in front of two hundred witnesses.
The absurdity of it hits me again, but so does the rightness. This is what I want. Who I want.
Frank appears at the doorway, offering his arm. "Ready?"
I take a breath, gather my skirt. "Ready."
We move through the corridor toward the ceremony space. I can hear the orchestra now, playing something classical and beautiful. Through the windows, I catch glimpses of the Aegean Sea, impossibly blue under the late afternoon sun.
The music changes—the wedding march.
Double doors open, revealing the ceremony.
It's even more beautiful than I imagined. White chairs in perfect rows, all two hundred guests standing, turning to watch. Flowers everywhere, creating an aisle of blooms. The cliffside backdrop, ocean stretching to infinity.
And Maxwell.
He stands at the altar in a custom tuxedo, looking devastating. His black hair is styled perfectly, his beard trimmed, his gray eyes locked on me with such intensity I feel it from fifty feet away.
His best man stands beside him—a business partner whose name I can't remember right now—but Maxwell barely acknowledges his presence.
He only has eyes for me.
We begin walking down the aisle. Each step feels momentous, final, perfect. Guests blur in my peripheral vision—I recognize some faces, business associates of Maxwell's, a few college friends, distant relatives.
But I only see him.
Maxwell's expression shifts as I get closer. His jaw tightens. His eyes glisten.
Maxwell Graves, billionaire CEO, controlling and arrogant and possessive, is tearing up at his own wedding.
We reach the altar. Frank places my hand in Maxwell's, squeezes both our hands before taking his seat beside Mom in the front row.
Maxwell's grip is firm, possessive, perfect.
"Hi," I whisper.
"Hi, beautiful." His voice is rough with emotion.
The officiant begins the ceremony. I barely hear the words—something about love and commitment and joining together. My entire world has narrowed to Maxwell's hand holding mine, his eyes never leaving my face.
When it's time for vows, Maxwell goes first.
He doesn't look at notes. Doesn't hesitate.
"Millie, when I met you seven months ago, I didn't believe in love at first sight. I thought it was fiction, something for romance novels written by romantics who didn't understand how the real world worked."
His thumb traces patterns on my hand. "But then you walked into that charity gala, and everything I thought I knew became irrelevant. You were nineteen, innocent, completely out of place in my world. And I decided right then that you would be mine."
Someone in the audience gasps softly—probably at the possessiveness in his tone.
"You challenged me. You saw me as a man, not a bank account. You gave me something I didn't know I was missing—genuine connection with someone who wanted me, not my wealth."
Maxwell's voice drops lower, intimate despite the crowd. "I promise to love you obsessively, possessively, completely. I promise to spoil you, protect you, give you everything you could ever want."
He pauses, and when he speaks again, there's a hint of defiance. "You're my stepsister, my fiancée, and now my wife. You're mine in every way that matters. And I'm yours, just as completely."
There's not a dry eye among the guests. Even Frank is wiping at his face.
The officiant turns to me. "And now the bride."
My hands shake as I begin, voice trembling with emotion.