Epilogue 2
Kaden
Stopping in front of the kitchen window, I spot my wife and our two daughters, Willow and Lily, inside the greenhouse I built for Hope as my wedding gift to her.
She’s teaching them how to care for each plant with the same patience and devotion she shows them, and they seem to have developed the same passion for it as their mother.
It’s one of the things I’ve always loved watching them do together, and I hope they carry that tradition with them long after they’ve flown the nest. Not that I ever want them to leave.
If it were up to me, I’d keep them close, tucked under my roof, until their hair turns grey and their steps slow with age.
My girls have always been my pride and joy, and I’ve cherished every moment watching them grow into the young women they are today. Willow, with her sandy blonde hair and green eyes, is almost an exact clone of me, yet she takes after her mother the most.
At just fourteen, she already possesses the same fierce fire within her—strong and resilient, unafraid to speak her mind, and confidently doing so with a flower always tucked behind her ear.
“A pretty, smiling assassin”—that’s what her mother once called her, and she wasn’t wrong. Willow has a way of wrapping you around her little finger with nothing more than a sweet smile… and then—bam—she strikes, leaving you completely at her mercy.
And then there’s Lily, my youngest at twelve—she’s the perfect blend of Hope and me.
Beyond her vibrant red hair, she’s a caring and creative soul who loves building and fixing things—a true daddy’s girl at heart and my mini me.
She often tags along to the workshop with me, where we would spend hours crafting new pieces for our family business, Grant & Co Green Living.
I launched the business in the second year of my relationship with Hope, riding the wave of success from my online store.
What began as a modest shop, offering furniture and décor made from reclaimed wood and recycled materials, soon grew into something far more prosperous, embracing plants and an array of products for gardening, celebrating the full beauty of sustainable living.
Of course, none of this would have been possible without the steadfast support of my wife and business partner.
She has been the calm at the eye of every storm, the quiet force behind the decision to open three additional stores across Sydney.
It was her unwavering belief in me that spurred me to push further than I ever thought possible, and today, we are fortunate to have more than forty devoted employees, including a production team, each bringing their own passion and heart to the work we love.
I smile, taking in all that we’ve built together—our beautiful family, our thriving business, our home filled with warmth and love. Life couldn’t be any more perfect.
And then there’s the remarkable young man Zac has become.
At just twenty-four, he has already accomplished so much: topping his senior class in high school, earning immediate acceptance into a combined Honours and Master’s program in Architecture at the University of Sydney, and now, newly graduated with a double degree, carving his path at one of the nation’s most prestigious architecture and design firms.
To say we’re proud of him would be a gross understatement. We are perpetually in awe of the young man he has become, and he is the most devoted big brother to his little sisters, always taking time from his busy schedule to spend it with them.
Though we may not share the same blood, he is my son in every sense of the word.
I have helped raised him for the past fifteen years, watched him grow into the person who he is today, and when his mother and I married thirteen years ago, I was honoured the role of his father officially and legally, a privilege I have cherished ever since.
It still feels surreal, even now, hearing him call me Dad.
A sharp shriek jolts me from my thoughts, and when I flick my gaze back to the greenhouse, I see Lily gleefully spraying her mother and sister with the hose. The two try to scramble for cover, but Lily is hot on their heels, her laughter ringing out, bright, infectious, and a little mischievous.
I can’t help but burst into laughter at the scene unfolding before me.
Willow has wrestled the hose from her sister, drenching Lily, who squeals and wriggles in an attempt to escape, but their mother is there in an instant, wrapping her arms around her youngest and holding her in place.
Both girls are soon soaked, Willow’s relentless spray filling the air with their laughter, a sound that sends a wave of warmth through me.
Not wanting to miss a moment of the fun, I slip off my shoes and head out the back to join them.
I’m just seconds from the door when the loud chime of the doorbell cuts through the air, echoing through the house.
I groan in irritation, begrudging the uninvited guest who has dared to interrupt our family time.
Making my way to the front door, I brace myself, ready to unleash on whoever waits on the other side.
As soon as I swing the door open, my eyes immediately fall on the teenage girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, standing on my front porch.
An unfamiliar car sits in the driveway, and I catch sight of an older woman seated behind the wheel.
When I look back at the girl, she meets my gaze with a nervous expression, her hands fidgeting at her sides, clenching and unclenching as if caught between fear and hesitation.
“Hello,” I say gently, careful not to frighten her further, “can I help you?”
“Um… I… um…” she stammers, clearing her throat. “I… um… does a Zac Turner live here?”
I frown. “No, he doesn’t live here anymore. And he goes by the name Grant now—Zac Grant. May I ask why you’re looking for him?”
She swallows, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she finally speaks.
“I… I know this is completely out of the blue, but I believe he’s my brother—well, my half-brother.
My father was Adrian Turner. He passed away fifteen years ago in a car accident, along with my mother.
I was told he left behind a son named Zac, and I’ve been trying to find him for the past two years. ”
A sudden knot twists in my stomach as I take in the girl standing before me. When I get a closer look at her, I see it—the same unmistakable gaze I remember in her late father’s eyes, in Zac’s. And in that instant, the realisation strikes me like a thunderclap.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I ask softly, a lump rising in my throat.
“My name is Arianna—Arianna Cardillo.”
The gasp that escapes my mouth sounds as though someone has knocked the air clean from my lungs.
Shock doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling in this exact moment.
A storm of emotion crashes through me as the truth settles in—the baby girl I left behind all those years ago is now standing right in front of me.
It’s been seventeen years since I last saw her.
She was so precious and small then, fragile enough to fit against my chest. And now—now she’s here, standing on my front door, the baby girl who has grown into a beautiful, healthy young woman.
Her features bear the unmistakable resemblance of both her parents, but more than that—I see Zac so clearly in her too.
There is no denying it. No mistaking it.
They are bound by blood.
“Arianna? Lucia’s daughter?”
She nods slowly. “Did you know her?”
“Yes, I did,” I say quietly. “A very long time ago. She was a friend… once.”
And that’s all I’ll say about that, careful not to divulge on the details of our flawed relationship.
I don’t know what she’s been told about her mother—what narrative her family constructed to protect her from the truth, and I refuse to be the one to shatter it.
Some histories are better left buried, their bones undisturbed, especially if they only bring nothing but pain and resentment.
“I’m truly sorry about your parents,” I say gently, sincerity resonating in every word.
I may not have been their biggest fan, but no one deserved a fate that cruel.
I still remember that night with vivid clarity—the knock at Hope’s door, the police delivering the news that Adrian had been in a car accident, that he had died instantly. And because Adrian hadn’t changed his next of kin, Hope was the first to receive the news.
What made it even more harrowing was that Lucia had been in the car as well, and she too had perished at the scene.
The truck driver, a sole witness, later described to the police that he had seen them locked in a desperate struggle over the steering wheel, before the car hurtled through the bush and slammed into a tree.
Even now, we still haven’t figured out why they were in the car together or what caused the argument. All we can do is assume that Adrian and Lucia had started seeing each other again.
The days following the accident blurred into a whirlwind of disbelief and grief.
I knew Hope was absolutely devastated, numb with shock, and having to tell Zac only added to the pain.
She stayed close to Adrian’s parents, helping with the funeral arrangements, especially since he had been their only child.
I did my best to support her and Zac, to offer whatever comfort I could. But deep down, I knew what she truly needed was the solace of her family, for them to mourn together through the unrelenting ache of loss.
Arianna shifts uneasily, her frayed nerves still betraying her composure.