[Epilogue] Scarlett
scarlett
One year later
It’s been a freakin’ hell of a year. One that consisted of Lucas and I getting married in the sunflowers, with the cows just like we planned all those years ago.
It took some time, but we’ve fallen into a routine.
Jackson moved into Lucas’s old house when he moved into mine.
Having the three of us together was our saving grace while the chase for my father was on.
Lucas, knowing his dad was with me when he traveled, was the only way he felt safe enough to let me go.
And don’t even get me started on how protective he got when he found out I was pregnant.
Now, here I am, three months left until our baby is in the world, watching with rapt attention as the jury shuffles around in their little box.
I shouldn’t be here, Lucas begged me not to come. But after everything my father did, not only to me, but to everyone else, I need to see this through. I need to hear the jury's words myself.
Across the aisle, my father sits at the defense table, hands folding neatly on top of the wood.
If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I’d think he was the perfect picture of composure.
But I see the tremor in his jaw, the light beading of sweat across his brow.
It makes him look older, almost human. Almost.
Lucas’s hand finds mine, his thumb drawing lazy circles on the inside of my wrist. I pull strength from his touch, from him, from all the nights we fought nightmares, noises that had us reaching for our guns.
It was all worth it to be here. Jackson sits a few rows ahead, his posture rigid, scars peeking out above his collar, a reminder of all it costs him to bring the truth to light.
The judge enters, and the courtroom rises. “Please, be seated.” His gavel hits once. “Has the jury reached a verdict?
A woman in a navy suit, the foreperson, stands. She doesn’t look at my father. Instead, she turns her attention to the families who have lost someone due to his greed. Then at me. “We have, Your Honor.”
The judge sends her a tight nod, “Please proceed.”
My pulse hammers as she unfolds the paper, her voice clear and unwavering. “On the count of criminally negligent homicide, we find the defendant, Sebastian Arias… guilty.”
The words boom through the courtroom like a clap of thunder. Gasps ripple through the crowd, muffled sobs breaking the quiet that follows. My hand trembles in Lucas’s as I rest my forehead on his shoulder.
The foreperson continues, “On the charge of obstruction of justice, including falsifying federal safety documents, destroying evidence, and interfering with a federal investigation, we find the defendant… guilty.”
The silence in the room is deafening. One of my eyes pops open, scanning the room to make sure it’s not me who passed out.
Then one of the mothers who lost her husband in one of the many hushed rig explosions lets out a choked cry, and that's when it all unravels. The emotion, the relief, the pain. It crashes over the room like a wave that’s been fighting to kiss the shore for years.
My father exhales, slow and shallow, eyes forward but not focused on any one thing.
His attorney leans in, whispering something, but he doesn’t respond.
There’s no anger in his face, but there’s no remorse either.
The judge's voice carries through the room, but it sounds like he’s underwater.
“Mr. Arias, you have been found guilty. Sentencing will take place in two weeks. Officers, please.”
Cuffs clink around his wrists, the sound sharper, more final than I ever could have anticipated. For years, his voice ruled my world: commands, expectations, manipulation.
He turns once, just before they lead him through the side door.
His eyes find mine, then move to Lucas’s and Jackson’s, who moved to protect my other side.
I don’t look away. I meet him head-on. The way I wish I were strong enough to do back then.
There’s no hate left in me, and I have the man to my left to thank for that.
Leave it to Lucas Monroe to melt the ice my heart had been encased in all these years. “You did it,” Lucas says as his arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me in to place a kiss on my forehead.
I watch as my father is pulled through the door, and something in my chest loosens. Years of misplaced anger pointed at Nana, then at me, now fade as my father’s back disappears down the hallway. A tear breaches my lash line, cold against my skin as it falls from my face.
No one says anything. They simply give me the space to process.
They stand in solidarity with me as I let go of the last bit of resentment.
Allowing myself to finally let go of everything but what I’m building going forward.
I do what Lucas did with his mom all those years ago, I choose myself. I chose him.
“No,” I say, resting my head against his chest, “We did.”
“Your Nana woulda been proud,” Jackson says, his hand landing on his son's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.
I smile, blinking through the tears, “I sure hope so.”
This may have started before we were born, but now truth has a voice. And all three of us are finally free.
The end!