Epilogue
EPILOGUE
“If we live through countless lifetimes…I’ll love you in every single one of them.
Don’t you dare leave this world before me because I’ll follow you.
As there is no me without you, just endless darkness.
My wife…you’re my light.
Never forget it.”
Florian
Nine years later
Florian
“Give it back to me!”
“No! You lost it, so it’s mine!”
“I left it in our room!”
“Exactly! I found it, so it’s mine.”
“That’s not how it works!” A loud huff echoes in the garden. “Give it back, Jacob!”
“Let go of me, Matías!”
“Would you both stop this? We’ll get in trouble!”
“Shut up, Tristan!”
“One day. Just one peaceful day,” I mutter. “I’m going to count to three,” I shout as I walk toward the terrace door and step outside, where my identical triplet sons freeze, swinging their heads in my direction.
I’m not even surprised to see Matías trapping Jacob in a headlock and Tristan trying to separate the two.
“Oh no,” they exclaim in unison and quickly straighten up, standing beside each other and grinning wildly at me. “Hi, Dad.” The wind whooshes over us, announcing that fall is in full swing and intends to make us forget about summer altogether for the foreseeable future, billowing their blond hair a little while their crystal-clear blue eyes gaze at me innocently.
I groan inwardly because their eyes, my wife’s eyes, make it impossible for me to stay strict for long. They always manage to trick me into doing what they want, when what they need is discipline—and lots of it.
After our wedding, we focused on our lives and Isabella. My wife finished her psychology degree and opened up a center for abused children, where she helped them heal and gave them a better chance in life. Meanwhile, I designed another new collection that became an instant hit.
Love fueled my artistic flow, and life couldn’t get any better.
The whole pregnancy and birth experience was traumatic for both of us, and we didn’t plan to have any more children. We were happy with our little angel and decided to leave all the kids hoopla to my friends. However, one night we were reckless and got pregnant, and while it wasn’t part of the plan, we were happy about it. All the other wives getting pregnant at the same time was a bonus because we liked the idea of them all being the same age and already being born into a friendship group.
I still remember my dumbstruck expression when the doctor told us we were expecting triplets. Shock and fear stormed inside me just imagining having three more girls running around and taking my heart with them. It didn’t help that they couldn’t tell us the sex of the babies, so the seven months that followed were hell for me while my wife found the entire situation funny.
But they didn’t think like girl dads at all. The idea of my angel growing up so some horny fuck can seduce her and then think he has some kind of claim on her…it made me rage inside, which once again caused my godfather’s amusement. To him, my hell was atonement, but I didn’t see it that way.
I need no atonement when it comes to my wife because my love for her is not a sin; it’s salvation, and I’d go through anything and everyone for her.
However, the doctor safely delivered three little boys when the big day came. I held them all in my arms, falling in love three more times…and understood one simple thing.
It didn’t matter if you had sons or daughters…you worry about them and love them all the same and wish to protect them so fiercely that nothing and no one would hurt them.
“What did I say earlier?”
They all sigh, then Tristan takes a deep breath, clearing his throat. “We need to be on our best behavior because everyone’s coming to our house to celebrate the anniversaries.” He frowns, biting his lip and adding, “Even though it’s not your actual anniversary.”
Since we all got together with our wives ten years ago, Remi came up with the idea of just picking a random day to celebrate our big dates together at someones house. Obviously, we all spent the actual dates with our wives, dragging them to luxurious resorts and places where no one but us existed.
Oddly enough, everyone liked the idea, so it stuck, and we agreed to take turns hosting. This year is our turn. The guests aren’t even here, but I already have a headache.
“We wore something nice.” Tristan speaks again, frowning at my silence and throwing his arms over his brothers’ shoulders. “Just like you told us, Daddy.”
Ah, Tristan. Always the peacemaker among the three and the baby of the family since he was born ten minutes after his brothers.
God gave us three sons with nothing in common besides identical faces and a fierce love for one another. They always protect each other and never allow anyone to hurt them.
Tristan spends his days painting in his room, creating magic on his walls filled with various oil paints. He loves to read myths and often translates his visions of them on paper, running to his grandma and showing them off to her. Although he wiggles his nose in distaste whenever he looks at my designs for jewelry, claiming that his talent should not be wasted on some shiny things.
Grandpa Atlas—who, thank God, is still with us and relatively healthy since he still fucks around, which at this point we all consider impressive—almost had a heart attack after hearing this. He bitched to Dad about how his grandkids have no respect for the family business, and that it’s all his fault.
He calmed down after Tristan assured him that he planned to conquer the artistic world and spread the family talents and legacy. Although judging by how he talks Tristan’s ear off about our history and how hard it is to actually design a piece and their value…he’s still salty about the remark.
Tristan hates loud noises and music, mostly keeps to himself, and prefers to avoid being among large groups of people unless he absolutely has to.
Apart from art, he has only one interest—Gloria, one of Octavius’s daughters, who also happens to be a triplet and my goddaughter.
He dedicates everything he creates to her, but my free-spirited and motorcycle-loving goddaughter sadly has eyes for his cousin, Santiago’s son.
Apparently, seven-year-olds have a lot of drama going on. Who knew?
I think it’s hilarious while Octavius worries, but that’s inevitable since we all have a bunch of kids. They’re all best friends, go to the same school, and even plan to attend the same college in the future. That’s how tight they are.
Some of them will fall in love with each other and stay together, some will have their hearts broken, and some will find love elsewhere and make their partners part of our family.
My own experience taught me to be patient when it comes to those things and keep an open mind because love rarely comes without obstacles, so why complicate it even more?
“And we stayed out of trouble,” Jacob adds, adjusting his collar and grinning as mischief dances in his eyes. “Mostly.”
Yeah, I think this is the most appropriate word when it comes to our oldest son because trouble should have been his middle name for all the shit he’s pulled over the years and dragged his brothers into.
Impatient, temperamental, loud, and always seeking new ways to play on people’s nerves, he barely has anything in common with his grandfather that he was named after.
Compared to Tristan, he has zero interest in art and finds it so boring that he avoids conversations about it at all costs. He lives and breathes hockey and already plays on the junior team. According to his coach, he shows potential to be an amazing athlete if he learns to play by the rules.
He loves company and people, despises silence, and only tolerates it when Tristan asks him to.
A genius when it comes to academics, though he refused to move classes and leave everyone behind. His favorite pastime is reading classic literature.
On the rare occasion he can stay put, that is.
If it wasn’t for him being so smart and winning various school awards, they’d kick him out because even our money is not enough to make up for his less-than-stellar behavior.
We tried talking to him about it, and while he never hurts or disrespects anyone, he has a hard time with authority for whatever reason.
The only people who can somewhat rein in his temper are my wife, Kian, and me. He’s really attached to his uncle, which doesn’t make me feel optimistic about the future, all things considered.
I shudder when I think about what Kian pulled in college with a certain girl who should have never been on his radar. Apparently, our genes produce some obsessive men who won’t stop at anything until they get the women they want. Even if it means locking her up.
That’s a story for another time, though.
“Jacob took my diamond cuff links. Accidentally.” Matías clears his throat, and my brow lifts. “I designed them with Grandpa Atlas. They’re mine.” He gives his brother the side-eye. “He was just about to give them back to me.” He extends his hand. “Right, Jacob?”
A second passes in silence, and Jacob fishes inside his pocket, dropping the cuff links in his brother’s palm, and he clips them to his sleeves right away.
My lips twitch in amusement at how Matías always manages to play Jacob, who likes to mess with him because he’s the only “normal” one among the triplets.
For a seven-year-old, my middle son has an old soul and a deep interest in history and science. Most of the time, he’s holed up in the library. His curious nature wants to know everything, so he visits both of his grandparents often at their workplace and goes with them everywhere.
His mind constantly searches for new challenges, and he loves to create designs, although he thinks several steps ahead, brainstorming first how he can sell them, and only then wanting to draw them.
According to him, if his art doesn’t make him money, it has no point. He constantly argues about it with Tristan, who disagrees with him.
Always polite, on time, and well-behaved. The only one to talk to his great-grandfather for hours as they discuss the future of the empire. He wants to rule it one day because his brothers have no interest in that.
Grandpa Atlas calls him a true Price, except when Uncle Lucian is around because my godfather likes to remind him that no true Price has blue eyes, so he’s a Cortez and he better remember it.
Needless to say, these arguments end up being epic.
Matías is also the most responsible among the three, protecting his brothers and covering their asses if they mess up. He’s planning to study hard so they can focus on their talents and dreams and not have to work at the family business.
Sometimes I ask my wife if the doctors made a mistake and he was actually born first, and we just somehow missed it because our middle child has the energy of the eldest sibling.
You’re the middle child of your family, Florian. Our son is just like you. Character traits is what shapes a person, not their status in their family hierarchy.
I never thought about it this way, and from that moment on, I made sure to watch over Matías so he wouldn’t burden himself more than he has to. Taking care of his siblings isn’t his job.
It was and always will be ours.
“So you see, we are on our best behavior, Daddy,” Jacob tells me, and in a second, all of them wrap their arms around my hips, creating a circle around me.
I never thought a man like me who kills people as frequently and coldly as I do was capable of having a family, yet…I can’t imagine my life without them.
They’re my saving grace, and whenever I look at them…I remember the carefree little boy I used to be who got hurt so badly he forever lost his innocence and mischief.
I’ll do anything in my power to protect them so they will never have to lose theirs so young.
What they say is right, after all. We don’t really understand our parents until we become parents ourselves because, knowing my dad…my pain must have hurt him way worse than it ever did me.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that because it sounded like you were arguing, and we can’t have that. Not when your mom spent so much time planning this event.” They tilt their heads back and blink at me as we have a long stare-off, so they know I know their bullshit doesn’t fly with me. Loving them doesn’t mean a lack of discipline. “Why are you all wearing suits anyway?” While the perfectly tailored three-piece suits are identical, the colors are different since each one of them has a favorite one.
Dark blue for Tristan.
Red for Jacob.
Gray for Matías.
We are at this stage where they refuse to wear any other colors unless it’s jeans. Welcome to parenting, basically.
A collective sigh fills the air at this, and Jacob grumbles, “We lost a bet.” He laces his fingers in his hair and pulls at it. “Whoever loses it has to wear a suit, even if we go swimming in the lake.” He sighs again. “It’s very uncomfortable, Dad.” They all nod. “But a bet is a bet.”
“What bet?”
Tristan answers for me. “Javier and Miguel had this interesting idea.” I tense because hearing them mention their cousins’ names never means “interesting idea.” Usually, it means an insane fucking idea that leaves mayhem behind. “There is no need for details, Dad. But if our teacher calls, you just know we had the best intentions.”
“They just didn’t work out as good as we thought they would,” Matías finishes lamely, and they all hang their heads. I don’t see an ounce of remorse on their faces. Just them being sad they lost the bet. “So that’s why we’re wearing suits.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, contemplating asking them about their recent fuckup that will cost me a fortune but then decide not to. I’ll find out soon enough.
One of the things about my kids?
They always have the best intentions, so I guess I’ll consider that a parenting win, although I think psychologists would just call me delusional.
Speaking of my children.
“Where is your sister?”
The minute the question slips past my lips, Isabella rushes outside on the terrace, holding two hangers with dresses on them. “Which one is better?” Her blonde hair is in a braid and she wears a jumpsuit, her bare toes curling into the marble as we all study her choices. “You need to tell me right now. I’m running out of time. They’ll be here soon!” Apprehension fills her eyes. “It’s very important, Dad!”
If I have learned one thing over the years from being married and having a daughter…it’s that there can only be one answer to that. “They both look great.”
“Please focus, Dad!” She shifts her attention to the triplets, who step back from me and cock their heads to the side, scanning her from head to toe. “Well? Which one?”
My daughter was always a blessing to our family, I still can’t believe we managed to have a girl, and she was so deeply loved by us and everyone else that we were afraid of how she’d react to having not one but three more siblings at once.
However, we shouldn’t have worried because she loved them instantly, and the triplets worship the ground she walks on, always running errands for her and helping her out whenever she needs something. In fact, they’d do anything for her, and in turn, she never busts their asses. She’s worse than a spy when she withholds information.
We created traditions like me taking her once a month to father-daughter outings where I catch up on all her things, and that allows our bond to grow. She loves to design, her fingers are constantly smeared in colors, and she loves to watch us work, dreaming about becoming a head designer for the Price empire. She’s a social butterfly and thrives in all the attention while being surrounded by countless friends, but we have to shield her from the media a lot. They keep talking about her being a pretty kid who’ll break hearts in the future, and it just pisses me the fuck off.
“The A-line one is nice, and I like the flower patterns on it more,” Tristan finally says, and I don’t even question how he knows what type of dresses they are. “But the tent dress is made of a better material.”
“You’ll feel warmer in the A-line one. It might get chilly in the evening.” Matías, always the pragmatic one. “Or better yet, just stay in your jumpsuit.”
“Go with the tent dress. The purple color on it is more vivid and catches attention,” Jacob says, and her eyes light up as annoyance zaps through me.
Because it finally registers in my mind that both dresses are purple.
Only one person in our family loves this color—Braiden. Isabella has been hopelessly crushing on my godson for years, it seems.
It’s sad to watch, considering he’s fifteen now and ignores her or does his own thing with music. He’s kind and gentle but never encourages her moon eyes.
I appreciate the effort and clear boundaries he set, even though my girl often doodles her name alongside his. Grandpa Atlas gave her a full lecture when he saw it.
“You were born a Price, and you will die a Price.” He frowns at her. “If you change your name for any man, I’m writing you out of my will.”
“I think you’ll be dead by that time, the great one.” I roll my eyes at the title he assigned himself for all the kids to use because he said it was the most appropriate and didn’t give his age away. Everyone needs to learn confidence from my grandfather. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll keep my family name. I plan to be famous, after all.”
I’m still optimistic she’ll lose interest at some point, especially when my godson finally starts dating, although nothing interests him other than music. I can’t openly object or worry like Octavius does because Santiago always laughs and calls me a hypocrite.
What the fuck ever.
I can’t wait for his two little girls to fall in love and turn all his black hair gray. I even bought a special whiskey for the occasion. I deserve the right to gloat after years of putting up with his pettiness.
The man can hold a fucking grudge, that’s for sure, despite us still being the best of friends.
“I don’t know why you bother. Braiden won’t notice it anyway,” Jacob says, earning a hard nudge from both of his brothers and a scowl from his sister. Still my son shrugs and grins at her. “Accept it, sis. His loss, if you ask me.”
Tristan quickly tries to salvage the situation since my daughter’s scowl just deepens. “Just wear the jumpsuit. It’s better than a dress for the occasion.”
“And looks less desperate.”
“Jacob, callate por favor,” Matías hisses, and Isabella huffs.
“Your sons are mean, Dad.”
“You mean your brothers?”
“That too.”
“Oh, come on.” They jump on her, and since they are almost the same height as her, they trap her in their embrace and squeeze the life out of her. “Stop it,” she finishes with a giggle, and my heart does several flips inside my chest because watching them…it’s a dream for the little boy who’d been trapped in a cage while men did vile things to him.
Traumas are inevitable in our lives, but some shape us into the person we never thought we would be. My traumas still rule me to an extent since I’ll never stop killing off those people who deserve it if it means protecting the innocent ones… But my traumas no longer dictate how I live my life.
As there is love, laughter, and light in it.
“Okay, let me go. I still need to work on my hair and find matching shoes.” They kiss her on the cheek, and she rolls her eyes. “I love you too.”
She hugs me while I run my fingers through her hair. “I love you, Daddy.”
Ah, I love all my children equally, but my daughter will always be the one who made me a father.
My firstborn.
“I love you, honey.”
She dashes off back inside the house with the boys running after her, shouting, “Hey, wait for us! Do you want to hear what we did at school?”
If I were a good parent, I’d strain my ears to listen to their latest fuckup, but today, I want to be a happy parent, so I dont bother.
“Scenes like this make me want to have one more.” The melodic voice instantly makes me hot and hard and snaps me out of my thoughts. I turn around to see my beautiful wife walking toward me wearing a white sundress and matching sandals while her dark locks sway under the breeze. “But then I think about all the trouble your sons cause, and the desire is gone,” she teases because we both know she adores them, and they’re the biggest mama’s boys.
We have four as it is, though, and we don’t want any more. Arson even joked about whether the Four Dark Horsemen had some kind of kink going on with us all having so many kids. Since the man in question has triplets himself, I flipped him off.
“Hi, wife.” She steps into my arms, and I lace my fingers in her hair, bringing her closer to me until our lips are inches apart. “I missed you.”
Her warm breath fans my lips as she laughs. “I saw you this morning.”
“Correction. You kissed me goodbye this morning as you ran away to have a spa day with the girls. That doesn’t count.” Capturing her mouth, I kiss her hard, our tongues brushing against each other’s as she moans.
Kissing my wife is and always will be the greatest pleasure because our connection awakens everything inside me, reminding me I’m alive and deserving of happiness.
Marriage has always been such a strange concept to me that I never envisioned it for myself because, who would love a monster?
Or worse.
Who’d want to live with a monster knowing he still goes out and kills people frequently and then comes home to you with blood on his hands?
My wife proved how wrong I’d been because marriage became my greatest joy and salvation.
She accepts all my flaws and never forbids me from talking about my dark deeds, listening when I need her to, and being there for me when I feel I might lose my mind.
She never shies away from the darkness but makes sure it doesn’t touch our children or enter our little world in any way. She tends to my wounds if I come home with cuts and bruises, supports my decisions, and spends hours welcoming me back into her body, reassuring me with each kiss and touch that she’s mine and I’m hers.
Only this kind of marriage could have worked for me, and I’m glad Jimena is mine.
Her love is a gift, and I’ll cherish it until my last breath.
She tears her mouth away, our foreheads pressed against each other’s as we catch our breaths, and she fists my shirt. “You’re dangerous.”
“And you’re irresistible.”
“We’re perfect for each other then.” She trails her finger to my chin. “Everything okay?”
We had a particularly difficult case on catching a human trafficking ring with so many children there that we could barely stomach it. This side of the job is always hard, but once you become a father…that’s just unbearable. It brings so many memories because I was a little boy once who waited for someone to come and save me, and no one came.
At least not in time.
On such rare occasions, I think about Frederick and what could have been…understanding he had psychotic tendencies, and how they would have shown themselves in a different but still brutal way if he had stayed to live with us. Watching my triplets grow up and adore one another when Frederick never gave me that…yeah. Not all bonds are meant to be.
“Yes. We closed it down and freed everyone. We’ll keep an eye on them in the hospitals and shelters.”
“Good.”
“I love you, Jimena.” She blinks, happiness flaring in her blue eyes at the admission. “Thank you for falling in love with me.”
“I love you too. And our little hellions, although I still think it’s your genes that cause all the trouble.”
“Santiago’s kids rivals ours when it comes to trouble, so the jury is still out on that one, princess.”
I hug her, rocking her in my arms, and look up at the sky.
Once upon a time, I fell in love with my best friend’s little sister.
She healed all the broken pieces within me, curing me in ways no one else would’ve been able to.
And finally, the little boy who still lived within me and begged to die every single day as the pain was unbearable found peace.
Life is worth living despite some pain and anguish, no matter what.
But life with love in it?
It’s bliss.
One I’ll hold on to for the rest of my existence.
“The sunsets here are so beautiful. It’s almost as if the sun gives the lake a gentle kiss while everything stills around them.” My wife sighs, leaning on my chest as I wrap my arms tight around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. Our kids laugh and shout in the distance, playing tag near the lake.
Zeus chills under the tree, barely sparing a glance at the kids who adore him and treat him like some kind of family dog.
Although, knowing our kids, this peaceful atmosphere won’t last for long, and soon, we’ll hear endless arguments about who truly won and who cheated. None of us looks forward to that.
It turns out that when your kids share your character traits, it’s a pain in the ass—but a hilarious pain in the ass, at that.
Our parents and Grandpa lounge on the table near them, so they periodically check on the kids, and more giggles follow.
What can I say?
We are a loud bunch.
“The view is worth the price for this place, that’s for sure,” Santiago says, catching Briseis’s hand and pulling her toward him until she ends up in the crook of his arm, and he kisses her. “Where are you going, querida?”
“To get more ice.” She motions with her head toward Remi, who sits on a lounge chair. Penelope leans on him while he rubs her baby bump. After years of trying for kids, they adopted twin boys that we saved from a trafficking ring and, to their surprise, got pregnant with their baby girl. She’s been drinking cold lemon water because she always feels hot. “Penelope munches on those all the time.”
Santiago grins and takes the bowl from her before giving it to one of the maids nearby. “Could you please bring us some ice?” She takes it from him, dashing inside the house and leaving us alone. “Anything for my future goddaughter. Sometimes I think I spoil Penelope more than you do, amigo.” I bark a laugh when Remi flips him off. “Awww, be nice. You should appreciate me being such an awesome godfather.”
“He has a point there,” Octavius speaks up, throwing his head back as he sits on one of the chairs while Isla trails her finger over his scar and kisses it. “Let him be excited.”
“Like you were excited about Florian promising to buy Gloria her first motorcycle at sixteen?”
“It’s still up for debate.” He shoots me a warning glare, and I shrug.
Nothing my goddaughters want is up for debate, and besides, he’s one to talk. Forget refusing Isabella. He’s not even strong enough to say no to the boys, and obviously, that makes him their favorite.
I wouldn’t have it any other way, though.
“I’m proposing a toast.” We all focus on Remi. “We’ve all been together for ten years now, even if Florian decided to get himself some rest and got hitched one year later.” I blow him a kiss, and he resumes his speech. “We’ve had a lot of ups and downs, but I think I speak for everyone when I say that the past ten years have been the happiest years of our lives.” The men whistle in agreement while the women roll their eyes. “So let’s drink to us.”
Santiago lifts his tequila shot up. “Only in unity…”
Remi finishes for him, raising his whiskey glass. “…we survive.”
“Because…” Octavius follows, and they all turn to look at me.
My life flashes in my mind like an endless, beautiful, tragic, yet passionate kaleidoscope.
From us all growing up together, to becoming teenagers who had to commit a crime in order to save one of us, and finally to becoming men who created a brotherhood built on loyalty. An inseparable unity driven by the desire to kill and destroy. Our different pasts didn’t separate us. Instead, they connected us, and we stood by each other no matter what.
And finally, all of us fell in love and found the women who changed everything.
Power, money, status.
We have those in abundance, but our greatest treasure and wealth will always be our friendship, without which none of us would be here.
Clearing my throat, I lift my own glass high in the air while holding their gazes, and say…
“…in love do we thrive.”
Once upon a time a villain corrupted a princess.