Epilogue
They never find Viv.
Sometimes I imagine she escaped. She had the life vest. Maybe she was able to get back on the tender and drive it to safety. Maybe she disappeared, escaped to Mexico when she reached shore and realized she was accused of murder.
Viv was the only person on earth who knew the truth about what I did to Sage. Maybe that’s why I keep thinking she’ll show up one day. I’m not strong enough to turn myself in. Perhaps I want someone else to do it.
But the Coast Guard eventually stops looking for her.
Ashley and I rent a house on Islamorada using Ashley’s Empress money, and I email Sage’s agent back:
I’ll have to pass on the A Song of Scales and Salt series for now, but I’d like to accept your offer of representation and talk with you about something new I’m working on. I think you’ll be very interested.
He is. Within a month, we sell the book on proposal to Sage’s publisher. The advance is more money than I’ve ever seen before. Publishing knows what’s trending, and what’s trending is most definitely “Eat the Rich.”
I’m paying Ashley for her time and help and for running a new social media page that will act as promo for the book: @EmpressExposed.
We already have eighty thousand followers; engagement is high, even several months after the rescue from Ligia.
As I write and Ashley teases content, we expect to break the internet.
Trey will try to suppress the book when it comes out, like every billionaire does when someone writes something unflattering about them.
But nothing in my book is a lie, and thanks to Piper’s USB and Ashley’s firsthand accounts, we have evidence to back up every claim. Trey won’t be able to stop us.
Ashley is easy to work with outside of the claustrophobic pressure of Empress.
The beach house we share doesn’t have furniture or decorations yet, just the necessities, so sometimes at night I hear her quietly sniffling.
She misses the people she’s lost, but we’ll visit Rachel and Fiona soon.
Get their accounts for the book, if they want to share.
Rachel is teaching yoga in Miami, returning to what she loved before Viv made her cede her practice to her twin.
Ashley and Rachel text all the time, but they’re taking their reintegration slow, agreeing to live apart for at least a year to see how they can grow as individuals outside of their twinship and trauma.
Fiona, on the other hand, moved to New York City.
She’s pivoting to SFX makeup, apparently thriving in a class teaching artists how to do special effects and prosthesis for film and TV.
Fiona’s withdrawn slightly, less communicative than Rachel, but she let us know it’s because she needs space to process.
The other day she texted all three of us, saying she wants to see us soon.
We are starting to heal.
One muggy morning before dawn, I tiptoe through our new home, stepping out on the back porch with a cup of tea.
Ashley is sleeping, snores loud enough to be heard from the kitchen, but I’m too energized to rest. I’ve been writing all night, and I’m nearing the end of the draft.
My new agent is thrilled with what he’s read so far He texted me yesterday.
This is going to blow up. Get ready!
I stand outside, facing the ocean. The sun is starting to bleed into the early morning sky, gulls wheeling overhead, cawing as I lean against the wooden railing and wrap my fingers around the mug of chamomile.
It’s strange that I have no problem being near the sea after everything that happened.
All the watery deaths. Sage. Elena. Carl and Piper and Viv.
Strangely, it’s Viv’s absence I feel the most.
I don’t have my own social media page anymore, but I have access to @EmpressExposed, and the other day I found something peculiar in the Requests inbox. A message from a burner account—grayed-out profile picture, 0 followers, 0 following, 0 posts. The username VE081708. Two sentences:
Told you there would be an opportunity waiting. You’re welcome, Char.
When I tried to show Ashley an hour later, the page was gone:
This account does not exist.
“Probably a random person messing around,” Ashley insisted. “Don’t read into it.”
I assured her I wouldn’t. Even though the username had V and E in it—Viv and Elena.
Even though the numbers could easily reference a date, like when they first met.
Even though besides Sage, the only person who ever called me Char was Viv, and Viv said there would be opportunities for me after posting that video on the Empress page.
But Ashley is probably right. It’s probably nothing.
Absentmindedly, I let one hand slip from the mug I’m holding.
I reach over and stroke the golden bracelet on my left wrist. The Coast Guard saw it in my room with the rest of my belongings and naturally assumed it was mine.
I think Elena would have wanted me to keep it.
Someday, when I’m ready, I’ll visit her grave and leave the bracelet next to Elena’s headstone.
For now, I’ve been wearing it when I’m alone.
I drag a finger against the cold metal. Whatever comes next, I am ready.
As I stare at the waves, an icy breath blooms against the back of my neck, chilling my heart. I grit my teeth, not daring to look behind me as soft, cold exhales kiss my skin. I clutch my tea and watch the water, ignoring the growing scent of bitter salt.