Epilogue An Article In The Paper Clearing My Name
MARY KATE
The front doors of the mansion groan open with the kind of authority reserved for tombs and old money.
The air inside is dense with the smell of roses and lemon wax, a familiar mix of Kent’s cologne and the blast of air conditioning that’s always set two degrees too cold for me.
My heels click against the marble, and the echo follows me all the way to the foot of the grand staircase.
I’m still in my graduation outfit because we just got back from the ceremony at Century College.
My cap sits askew on my hair, and the gown is the color of a deep midnight, billowing out behind me with every step.
Underneath I’ve got nothing but skin, and a sexy but discreet pair of nude heels that Kent made me buy last-minute at a women’s specialty boutique.
My lover, on the other hand, is suit porn: tailored charcoal, an icy blue shirt, tie loosened just enough to show the notched muscle of his throat.
His hair is ruffled sexily, those blue eyes already hungry.
He doesn’t even wait for the last reverberation of the front door to die. He comes up, cups my face with both hands, and holds me like he’s taking inventory. His thumbs stroke just under the hinge of my jaw, a spot so sensitive it makes my eyes close.
“You walked that stage like you owned it,” he says, and his voice is so low it’s nearly a growl. “I was watching the whole time, sweetheart. The haters, the teachers, the ones who doubted you. You never even blinked.”
He says it with a kind of awe, like maybe he’s seeing me for the first time. My chin does this traitor’s tremble, the one that gives away every emotion even when my mouth is locked up tight. I swallow it, but Kent sees everything.
He tilts my head up until our eyes meet. “You were perfect, MK.”
I want to say something clever, or even just thank you, but the words are all stuck at the back of my throat. Instead I reach up, tuck my hands over his wrists, and let him hold me up.
His hands drop away but he keeps looking at me, like there’s more he needs to see. “Did you read the article?”
I shake my head. I know exactly which article he means—the student paper piece that’s been blowing up every group chat on campus since noon. I’d seen the headline on Kayleigh’s phone, but couldn’t bring myself to click.
He smooths my hair back, finger-combing it behind my ear.
“You should. It’s a good expose, sweetheart.
They quoted you by name—‘the bravest girl at Century College.’ They put you right at the front.
You and the other girls who have been targeted by deepfakes.
” He pauses, lets the weight of it hang there.
“You’re clean, baby. Everyone knows those videos aren’t of you.
Your name’s as white as snow, and reputation untarnished. ”
It’s like a balloon deflating in my chest, slow and soft and final.
I exhale for what feels like the first time since the world ended because I avoided campus for months, ashamed by what had happened to me.
Of course, it wasn’t my fault, but still.
How can I explain to an entire campus that my image had been illegally used? By my own mom too?
But then, the reporter from the Daily Century called, saying they were going to do an expose on this new usage of deepfakes to hurt and victimize women.
I didn’t want to talk to her at first, but Kent convinced me to, and the result was the long-form article in last week’s paper.
Everyone now knows that it was never me in those videos, and in fact, there’s talk of legislation going through that will criminalize deepfake behavior.
“I’m glad that’s over,” I say in a soft voice. The tension in my shoulders goes slack, and suddenly the cap is too heavy on my head. I take it off and place it on the staircase.
Kent nods, running his hands through my golden locks. “You did it,” he says again, but this time it’s softer, less alpha-male and more… whatever it is you call a man who’s let himself be domesticated, if only for one person.
We stand there, a loving tableau at the base of the staircase, the whole house a cathedral of silence around us.
I look at the runner on the stairs, the fresh lilies I arranged in the foyer vase this morning, the way the late sunlight spills honey across the floor.
It should feel like an ending, but instead it feels like we’re paused on the verge of something too new and too good to name.
He leans against the banister, folding his arms, and his gaze goes sideways for a second—off me, off the room, somewhere far away. “I’m sorry your mother wasn’t here,” he says. It’s so unexpected, I flinch. “Although Jeannine doesn’t deserve to see you walk, seeing what she put you through.”
I watch the way his jaw tightens, the hard cut of it under his skin.
For a moment I remember everything: my mom’s screaming, the handcuffs, the final click of the door as the police took her away.
The emails I still haven’t read, the messages she sent that I keep in a folder labeled “Open Maybe Someday.”
I let the silence do its thing, fill up the foyer with invisible ghosts.
“It’s okay,” I say at last, even though it isn’t.
“I don’t know that I’ll ever be okay with what happened, and I don’t know that she’ll recover either.
My mom’s obviously off her rocker because who creates deepfake nudes of your own daughter?
But maybe, years from now, things will be different.
” I turn my engagement ring on my left hand, the diamond flashing in the late light. “I’d like to believe that.”
Kent looks at my hands, the way my fingers toy with the ring, and then up at my face. “If you ever want to let her back in, I’ll support you, sweetheart. Whatever you decide. But if you want Jeannine gone forever, I’m fine with that too.”
His voice is a little hoarse at the edges. He means it.
I nod, slow, letting the words soak in. “Thank you,” I say in a soft voice.
He reaches for me again, but this time it’s not to pull me in—it’s to steady me, just a hand at my elbow, a tiny anchor in the endless air.
For a second, I want to burrow my face in his chest and stay there until the recent events are just a story we tell other people. Instead, I let the moment pass, and pull away with a small, private smile.
We stand, side by side, both facing the staircase.
I try for a new topic, lighter and more playful. “Did you see Kayleigh at the graduation reception? She looked different.” I leave out the rest: thinner, wired, eyes a little too bright.
Kent smirks. “Yeah, I noticed. She ran up and hugged you like you were about to be shot to the moon.”
“She’s obsessed with someone new,” I say. “It’s all she’s talked about for weeks. Except—” I lower my voice, even though there’s no one else here to overhear. “Okay, maybe he’s not exactly a new guy. It’s her stepbrother. Her mom just got re-married, and Kayleigh is obsessed with this dude.”
Kent’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really. Your stepsister’s hellbent on hooking up with her stepbrother? Isn’t that a little too close for comfort?”
I give him a look, sharp enough to stop him in his tracks. “Yeah, but we shouldn’t judge, Kent. I mean, we were stepfather and stepdaughter not so long ago, so it’s basically the pot calling the kettle black.”
He takes it, point blank, and doesn’t even flinch. “Fair,” he says, and I can tell he’s actually pleased. He likes being called out on his shit by me, says it keeps him in line.
“But Kayleigh’s also insane,” I add with a smile. “I think she’s been taking nude photos of herself, and well, I think she accidentally sent him one or two.”
Kent stares at me.
“For real?”
I nod.
“And they’re not exactly the tasteful kind either. She showed me one of them by accident. It was aggressive. The kind with wet panties and mechanical toys.”
Kent laughs, then stops himself, then laughs again. “Do you think he’ll go for it?”
I shrug, folding my arms over the gown. “He’s some billionaire playboy, Kent. He probably has a stable of Instagram models lined up for every day of the week.”
He nods, conceding the point. “Yeah, those dudes are a barrel of monkeys with no morals either. They’ll fuck anything, and especially if she’s young and hot.
But when the right woman comes along, he’ll reform,” he says, stroking one finger across my bottom lip as his blue eyes go soft.
“Look what happened to me. I’m basically a lapdog at this point. ”
I giggle but then my laughter dies and I stare at him, the man who ruined me for every other man, and realize he actually believes that.
The alpha male is ruthless, charismatic, and powerful, but around me, he turns into a softie with a heart of gold, always ready to help me and support me in any way that I need.
The knowledge makes me soft inside, like someone just replaced my bones with the petals of the lilies by the front door.
There’s a long, slow pause. The sun outside has all but given up; the shadows in the foyer are thick as oil, and the only light comes from the glass chandelier above the stairs, its facets throwing yellow diamonds across the floor.
I step closer to the handsome male, until the tips of our shoes are almost touching. The air trembles with awareness. He’s still watching me, not blinking, not breathing. I take his hands in mine, folding them together, and let the silence hang.
“Do you want to know the real reason I made you skip the graduation festivities after the ceremony?” I whisper.
He grins, and there’s that wolfish glint I’ve loved since the day he first called me his.
“I can guess,” he says, voice rough. “Let me think—the champagne they were serving is no good.”
I shake my head, hair brushing his sleeve. “You’re not even close.”
I stand on my tiptoes, pulling him down by the lapel of his suit, and kiss him once, soft and slow.
“Go upstairs,” I say. “I have a surprise for you.”