Epilogue
And just like that, two years have passed in the blink of an eye.
I’m wrapped in Graham’s arms, a warm cup of coffee cradled in my hands.
Well, decaf. Graham practically develops a hundred new gray hairs every single time he sees me near caffeine now.
He has this endearing habit of burying his face against my swollen belly, kissing it and whispering apologies to our unborn child because "Mommy is a hopeless coffee addict. "
A shiver ripples down my spine when I remember how close I came to losing all of this in an instant.
I still struggle with PTSD from the fire, and so does Graham.
He wakes up in the dead of night screaming my name, throwing his frame over mine and holding me so tight it literally hurts.
But I never say a single word. I just hold him back and let him have his peace.
Do I regret letting Valeria walk away? Sometimes.
But in the end, remembering that she is my blood, and that we were finally able to find a sense of closure, makes me feel like I somehow amended for my past sins.
Even though, in that very act of mercy, I accumulated a million new sins.
Six innocent people died that day, and I let their killer escape justice.
Graham still gives their families handsome monthly compensations, but money won’t ever bring them back.
I swallow another sip of the decaf to wash away the bitterness. Graham has had that corrupting effect on me. He made me realize that yes, maybe I am a bad person, but I am learning to live with my transgressions. I am learning to survive with them.
Glancing down at the latest news article on my tablet, I remind myself to accept who I’ve become.
The headlines talk about yet another murder—a serial killer on the loose.
I know without a doubt that it’s Valeria.
Will I ever come forward? Will I ever tell the police?
No. I don't fully know why. But she is still my sister, and I realized a long time ago that I am no longer a good person.
I am perfectly content living in the gray.
A trail of possessive kisses along my neck snaps me back to my beautiful, complicated reality.
"Are you feeling okay, my love?" Graham murmurs. "Is our son causing you any trouble today?"
I turn my head, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. "Never."
His teeth gently catch my top lip, sucking on it.
"Thank you," he whispers, his forehead resting against mine. "Thank you for bringing light into my universe, little flower. Thank you for making a dead man finally feel."
I look out the glass windows at the rebuilt mansion, surrounded by acres of blooming flowers. The empire was rebuilt from the ashes.
Graham pulls me closer, burying his face in my hair. I have nothing left in this world but him.
I don't need a fairytale. I have my devil, and I am finally home.