Epilogue – Marcus
The hospital is already out of the ground. Every week, there’s a new photo on my phone. Another floor being poured, another wing taking shape. The paediatric orthopaedic unit is ahead of schedule. The rehab pool went in yesterday. At last, the project no longer needs defending.
Forty miles away, something else is coming together. For a long time, my Lloyd Harbor house held nothing else except objects. But tonight, it’s lit with life.
Reggie has taken over one of the study rooms with absolute authority, and there are spools, pins, and fabric swatches everywhere. I’m standing on a rug I know he’d hate while wearing a tux that fits like it was drafted around me instead of adjusted after the fact.
Iris and Sabine circle us, grinning like this is their personal entertainment.
“Remember how you thought my fiancé was hot? Hotter than Michael Yerger?” Iris says to Reggie.
Reggie makes a strangled sound. “Shut up, Mrs. Lockwood.”
She beams. “Oh, I’m keeping that.”
Sabine nudges her with an elbow. “Excuse you. I’m still recovering from a broken heart over here.”
Reggie pauses whatever he’s doing to me. “Sabine, baby, we have a special bond. Don’t forget that.”
Sabine blows him a kiss.
It’s become something of a family footnote that Sabine fell for Reggie the moment they met, only to discover she was never his type. They’re friends now, except when the conversation turns to Ferragamo versus Louboutin, because then, all bets are off.
He steps back, squints, and makes a small adjustment at my shoulder. “Okay. Turn.”
I do, with my arms out. A glance in the mirror confirms it. Reggie knows what he’s doing. Armani’s apprenticeship wasn’t wasted on him.
“What do you think, Marcus?” he asks.
“I really like the fit,” I say, rotating once more. “I might even survive my own wedding.”
“Good,” he says briskly. “You look gorgeous.”
I nod toward Iris. “And her dress?”
He shakes his head hard. “Absolutely not. You don’t get spoilers.”
Iris laughs. “See? Reggie respects tradition.”
From the winter garden next door, there’s a sudden chorus of voices.
“Oh—oh—no—”
Then comes the clatter of wooden blocks.
Liam’s voice floats in, saying, “I swear that dog waits for structural weakness.”
And Max adds, resigned, “I was winning.”
We migrate into the winter garden eventually. Blanket demolishes the Jenga tower again, and Max insists Liam has trained the mutt to sabotage. Sabine keeps score while Reggie declares the tower structurally unsound from the start.
Soon, the game dissolves into conversation. Iris curls up beside Reggie on the bench, shoulder to shoulder, and Sabine perches on the edge beside them, her long legs tucked in.
I hand out my signature cocktails.
“To the groom,” Liam says, raising his glass. “And the bride, who took him on and won.”
Iris lifts her glass. “It was a long process,” she says.
I steal a kiss that still makes her blush.
Thanks to her, my mind has learned how to rest, though it hasn’t come easily since Drake.
Watching your twin brother die in front of you never does.
The flashbacks still come, but I survive.
I survive because of her and the circle of friends who never let me fall.
Iris sets her glass aside and catches my hand. “Marcus, come with me for a second.”
She tugs me away, back toward the study. I follow without comment, and I also don’t mention that she never touched her drink.
The noise of the others fades behind us. We stop at the rug where I stood just a moment ago in my wedding suit. She turns toward me, and I rest my hand where my attention has already been.
She swats my shoulder. “Damn! You stole my thunder.”
I pull her into an apologetic hug. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” When I straighten, I lace my fingers through hers and bring our hands between us. “Your thunder’s safe,” I say softly. “Now tell me.”
She exhales, half laughing at herself now. “I’m pregnant.”
For a second, nothing moves. Because you can suspect something, and you can even prepare yourself for it. But none of that compares to hearing her say it.
My hand lifts and settles against her stomach with my palm spread and protective. “Yeah?” I manage, because my brain apparently requires one small word before it catches up with the rest of me.
She nods.
I pull her into me, and the world moves with her. It finally faces the right direction, opening into a future we both deserve. That all of us deserve. I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes.
“We won’t ever leave,” I say, the words coming out rougher than I intend. “No matter what. Not for any reason. We will love this child.”
She doesn’t ask what I mean. Her hand just comes up to my cheek, certain. “We will. No matter what.”
I breathe that in, and a smile stretches across my face. “We did good,” I say, my hand moving in a soft, rhythmic pat the way you might reassure a contented creature curled against you.
“Just so you know…” She glances down at my hand. “My belly isn’t Blanket.” Her laugh breaks against my throat, and I feel it everywhere.
I straighten just enough to look at her again. “You realize,” I add, “this means I’m going to be unbearable.” She has no idea how thoroughly I intend to spoil her.
She grins, pinching my cheek. “You already are.”
I chuckle. “I love you, Iris Midnight Vaughn.”
In reply, she narrows her eyes and whispers, “I love you too, Marcus Wolf Lockwood.”
I kiss her fiercely. Self-control clearly isn’t part of this development.
When I pull back, the words are already there. “Can I tell them?”
She laughs against my collar. “You lasted five seconds.”
I shrug guiltily. “I’m about to be a father. Containment isn’t realistic.”
She tries to look stern for a second, but then it melts away. “Just them. No other announcements yet.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
When we walk back inside, the room quiets automatically.
“What happened?” Max asks as Reggie straightens from the table, instantly alert.
I slip an arm around Iris and pull her against my side. “We’re having a baby.”
For a second, the entire room freezes.
Then the explosion happens.
Sabine shrieks and wraps Iris in a hug, Reggie kisses her cheeks, Liam grabs my shoulder and gives it a solid shake, Blanket barks as if claiming partial credit, and Max barrels in next. Suddenly, everyone’s on me at once.
“I guess it’s champagne time,” Iris says, already turning toward the bar.
“Oh no. No, no,” I cut in. “Let me take care of it.”
“Sit down, Lockwood,” Liam says, pushing me back toward the sofa.
Sabine tilts her head toward Iris and says, “Actually, we should change the plan.”
Everyone pauses.
Then she brightens. “Italian sodas?”
“Perfect,” Reggie says.
The kitchen gets raided. My fridge opens, bottles clink, and a parade of sparkling things appears on the counter.
Sabine declares that the child will clearly inherit a superior style from her, and Reggie objects vehemently.
Max insists the kid will be a Lockwood and, therefore, unstoppable.
Iris ends up in the middle of it all, laughing until she wipes tears from her cheeks.
I head for the kitchen. These people need food before they drown in sugar and bubbles. The conversation carries on behind me, and then Liam becomes the topic.
“You’re next!” Iris fires off.
“Oh, I like where this is going.” Max is right on it.
“We need to find you a wife, Liam Hunt,” Sabine chimes in.
Liam shuts it down. “I’m going to help Lockwood.”
He joins me at the counter just as I start assembling a charcuterie board of prosciutto, aged cheeses, fig jam, and crackers.
I clap him on the back. “You’re not dodging it by hiding in here.”
“Come on, not you too,” he grumbles. He grabs a bunch of green grapes from the fruit bowl and sets them beside the crackers. “So, what changes now?”
Fair question. There’s a baby on the way, but the one I brought to life before I became this man still moves through the city. “Nothing changes,” I reply. “People will always want the impossible. Velvet is where they come to buy it.”
Liam rearranges a few slices of cheese. “What if getting lost in the fantasy wasn’t the only reason they came?”
I tilt my head. “If it’s a risk that you’re willing to take.”
He winks.
From the garden, Sabine calls out, “Marcus! If you’re making food, hurry up before I start naming the baby!”
I pick up the board and Liam gathers the cutlery.
We walk back into the noise.
Iris looks up the moment I step back into the garden, her hand resting openly against her stomach now. For the first time, the future isn’t something I’m engineering alone. It’s something we’re stepping into with our eyes open. And we choose to stay in our game. Together.
Still, somewhere beyond these walls, the Velvet Game is waiting for its next players.
Thank you for reading.