Epilogue Stephan
Katie’s fingers are covered in marker, but she doesn’t notice it; she’s busy fixing a crooked border on a student’s art project tacked above her desk. Her belly curves beneath a soft grey dress, seven months along now, and still she moves like the world is hers to shepherd.
I lean against the doorframe of her classroom, coffee in hand, watching her in that quiet way I used to study case law.
She looks up and smiles like she knew I was there.
“Are you stalking me, Mr. Marek?” She says, hanging the last piece of art.
I flash her a smile. “No. Just admiring my beautiful wife.”
She waves me away as she grabs her bag from behind her desk.
“Let’s go home,” she says with a sigh. “This baby is hungry.”
We drive home through the kind of spring day Chicago rarely offers—sun-drenched and soft-edged. Her hand rests over mine on the gearshift. When we stop at a red light, she shifts it to my thigh instead. She does that now—holds on without apology.
Her phone buzzes. It’s Mary.
Katie’s face lights up. “Mary’s engaged!” she exclaims before turning the phone to face me. A picture of Mary, healthy and happy with her now fiancé, a carpenter from Skokie, appears on the screen.
“Good for them,” I say, turning into our driveway. The townhome in Lincoln Park is a far cry from my penthouse downtown, but it’s perfect for our little family.
Katie’s already on the phone with her mom by the time we hit the front door.
The house is warm and alive, nothing like the glass-and-marble silence I used to call home. It breathes with life. With hope.
When I left the firm, I thought my life was over. But Katie showed me it was just beginning.
Now I run my own consulting practice—no late nights, no secrets—just a man providing for his family.
I hardly recognize the person I was before her. Maybe this version of me was always buried somewhere beneath the surface, or maybe she’s the one who unearthed it. Either way, I’m happier than I ever imagined possible.
Later, Katie falls asleep on the couch, her head in my lap, one hand curved protectively over her belly. I trace small circles against her wrist, over the place where the bracelet once sat. She doesn’t wear it anymore. She doesn’t need to.
I think of my father sometimes. Of the rage in his voice. The stink of whiskey. The way silence followed him into every room.
I look at Katie and the child growing inside her and make a silent vow:
It ends with me.
This will be a house of peace. A house of freedom. A house of love.
I bend and kiss her forehead.
“You’re safe,” I whisper. “We all are.”
And for the first time in my life, I believe it. Thank you for reading THE CONTRACT. If you enjoyed this book please leave a rating and review on or your preferred review site. It’s the best way to support an indie author like me!