Epilogue
EVA
The wine in my glass had gone warm, but I didn’t care.
Vivian’s bright and carefree laughter echoed through my penthouse, filling the room with a kind of joy I hadn’t felt in years.
Outside, New York City glowed in all its restless, glittering glory, but inside, it was just the two of us.
New friends. Sisters, really. Not by blood, but by something stronger.
She was curled into the corner of my couch, her legs tucked beneath her, a soft pink flush coloring her cheeks.
“I can’t believe I’m planning a wedding,” she said dreamily.
“I used to make fun of girls like this, you know? Mood boards. Color palettes. Dress fittings. And now? I want it to be perfect. For Rafaelle. For us. I feel like we deserve it after everything.”
I smiled, even as something twisted in my chest. “You do deserve that.” She really did. After everything she’d been through, after the hell she’d clawed her way out of, Vivian deserved peace. Love. Safety. And a breathtaking wedding.
She reached for her wine, then hesitated. “I already cleared it with Raffaele, by the way.”
I raised a brow. “Cleared what?”
“For you to come to the Below.” She grinned. “For the wedding. I want you there, Eva. Not just as a guest. As my bridesmaid.”
My breath caught.
The Below.
The memory hit like a sucker punch—my mother’s screams, the crack of magic tearing through flesh, the darkness curling in like smoke.
I was just a girl. Powerless. Hidden while something ancient and evil ripped my mother apart.
My so-called father, Lorde Thorne, had murdered her.
And I’d witnessed the whole fucking thing.
Ever since, I’d pretended The Below and all its mysteries didn’t haunt me. I had no desire to visit the place ever again, especially after seeing what Vivian and my brother had just been through.
“I…” I tried to steady my voice, but it was no use. I looked down at my hands—perfectly manicured, shaking slightly.
Vivian leaned forward, concern flickering in her eyes. “Eva?”
“I’ll come,” I said finally, forcing a smile. “Of course I’ll be there. Whatever you need.”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with relief, and for her sake, I kept the smile in place. I even took another sip of wine, like my chest wasn’t tightening with every passing second.
It was just a wedding. Just one weekend. That’s what I told myself. And Raffaele wouldn’t let anything happen.
I was being ridiculous. I’d grown up. I’d survived. I’d buried the past and built something stronger in its place.
So why did my gut twist like I was about to walk straight into a fire?
I stared at the glass in my hand, watching the deep red swirl and settle.
I could do this. For Vivian. For my brother. That was reason enough.
Still, some quiet part of me whispered that I’d regret this. I shook the thought away.
I was stronger now.
Wasn’t I?
Thank you for reading Vivian & the Shadow’s story…