150: Epilogue

150: Epilogue
AUTHOR'S POV

The church was too quiet. The flowers, the candles, and the guests in their suits and dresses all seemed to be frozen in time. Giovanni stood at the altar, a muscle twitching in his jaw, his eyes fixed on the double doors.

Minutes passed. Then half an hour. Whispers rippled through the pews. The priest shifted nervously.

Finally, one of his father's men approached with a grim look on his face. In his hand was a sealed envelope.

Giovanni snatched it, tearing it open with trembling fingers. His eyes scanned the page, but for a moment, he didn't breathe.

"I lost the baby. I cannot stand in front of you like this. You deserve better. I won't chain you to my shame. Please don't look for me. Forgive me."

His vision blurred, the letters distorting on the page. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

"No," he whispered. The paper slipped from his hand, fluttering to the floor. "No... no, no."

He doubled over so fast the crowd stirred, thinking he might collapse. He snatched the letter back up, reading it again as if the words might change. His chest heaved, a broken sound tearing out of him.

"What's going on? She stood him up?" someone whispered in the crowd.

Giovanni's head jerked up, his eyes wild.

"Shut up!" he roared, the sound echoing through the church. His voice cracked, and he pressed a shaking hand over his mouth. His body shook vigorously as shock ravaged his insides.

Killian rose from his seat, his face blank. But his blue eyes held immense worry for his son.

He crossed the room in long strides, ignoring the murmurs and the priest who tried to step forward.

Giovanni clutched the letter to his chest as if it were his only lifeline. His lips moved again, but his voice was hoarse and barely audible.

"She's gone," he whispered. "She's gone, Dad. She took everything with her."

The guests looked away. Some left in silence. Others lingered, watching the only son of Killian Cross break in front of them, unsure of how to comfort him.

...

The hall was silent after everyone left. The flowers still stood at the altar, untouched, as if mocking the ceremony that never happened. Giovanni sat in the corner, his suit jacket discarded. His hands gripped his hair, his chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths.

Killian walked toward him slowly.

"Gio," he said.

His son didn't look up. Instead, his voice cracked as he spoke into his palms. "She's gone, Dad. She left me."

Killian lowered himself onto the chair beside him. He sat close enough that their shoulders brushed. For a moment, he only watched his son—the same boy who used to run around the garden with scraped knees, the same boy who once begged him to teach him how to throw a punch. But this was not a boy anymore. This was a man breaking.

Giovanni dragged in a ragged breath. "I could have protected her. I should have done more. She thought she'd burden me, but she wasn't a burden...she was the only thing that made sense." His chest heaved, his voice cracking. "I loved her, Dad. I loved her so much. Why wasn't that enough?"

Killian's throat tightened. For a long time, he had ruled his empire with brute force. He had crushed men who crossed him and effortlessly silenced his enemies. But now, sitting beside his son, he felt powerless. There was no enemy to shoot, no rival to destroy. Only his son's grief.

Without a word, Killian placed his hand on the back of Giovanni's neck. His grip was firm and unshaking. Giovanni leaned into it, trembling, the way he used to as a child after waking up from his nightmares.

"Gio, listen to me," Killian said, his voice low but steady. "You didn't lose her because you were weak. You didn't lose her because you failed. Sometimes love isn't enough to heal what's already broken. You cannot carry someone who refuses to be carried."

Giovanni squeezed his eyes shut. A sob tore through him, raw and unrestrained.

Killian pulled him into his chest. Giovanni resisted at first but then collapsed against him, his fists gripping his father's shirt. His body shook with sobs that were loud and painful, echoing through the empty hall.

Killian held on. He didn't speak, not right away. His own chest ached, but he forced himself to stay steady.

When Giovanni finally broke into silence, Killian rested his chin against his son's head. His voice was rough, almost a whisper. "You don't stop being a man when you fall. You stop being one if you stay on the ground. You hear me? Stand again, Gio. Even if it hurts. Even if it kills you inside. Stand."

Giovanni's voice cracked. "I don't know if I can."

"You will," Killian said, his hand gripping the back of his son's neck tighter. "Because you are my son. And because I will not let you drown."

Giovanni's eyes were bloodshot when he finally pulled back. But there was a trace of life in them. It was small, faint, but present. Killian saw it. He nodded once, hoping that it would be enough to keep his son from tipping over to the dark side.

......

The beach was quiet except for the waves. The sun was sinking low, spilling gold and red across the water.

Killian stood tall, his hands in his pockets, watching Sera the way he always did because she was the center of his universe.

She tilted her head at him, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "You know, Saint, you're terrible at romance. Most men bring flowers when they want to redo their vows. You brought me to an empty beach and said, 'Stand there.'"

Killian's mouth twitched. "Flowers die. This doesn't." He gestured at the horizon, then stepped closer. "And I want to be with you forever."

Her smile widened. "Me too."

He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. His voice dropped when he spoke again. "I never thought I'd live long enough for this. I built my life on war and bloodshed. I thought love was something weak men wasted time on. Then you came, and I learned that love is strong enough to keep me alive and sane."

Her throat tightened, but she lifted her chin. "You really waited until vow renewal to get poetic, huh?"

"Don't push your luck," he muttered, his lips curling. He cupped her cheek with one hand. "I don't have fancy words, Angel. Just the truth. You are the only reason I breathe without breaking. You're the only one who's ever looked at me and seen a man instead of a monster. I vow to spend the rest of my days proving you weren't wrong to choose me."

Sera bit her lip hard, then exhaled shakily. Her eyes softened, tears welling in them. "Saint..." She laughed through the lump in her throat. "I was supposed to go first, but damn it, you always steal the good lines."

He smirked. "Then try harder."

She smacked his chest lightly before holding his face between her hands. "Fine. Listen up, Saint. You are infuriating. Mischievous too. And yet—" her voice shook as tears slid down her cheeks.

"—You're the man I'd follow into hell with my eyes closed. You taught me what it means to be unbreakable, even when everything hurts. I vow to keep laughing when you're too serious, to keep dragging you back when you try to carry the whole world alone, and to remind you every single day that you're not the monster you think you are."

She grinned through her tears. "You're my Saint. Always."

Killian's hand slid to her waist, pulling her close. "And you'll always be my Angel."

The last of the sun dipped under the horizon as he kissed her. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't hungry. It was affectionate and pure, a seal on the rest of their journey together.

When they pulled back, Sera whispered, "You know this doesn't mean you're off the hook. You still owe me flowers."

Killian chuckled. "I'll buy you the whole damn garden."

....

Giovanni leaned against the balcony railing, a drink in his hand he hadn't touched. From where he stood, he could hear his sister laughing in the garden below. Her fiancé had come by, and the two of them were all smiles, teasing, whispering, and holding hands as if they had no care in the world.

For a moment, his lips curved. She deserved it. She deserved every smile and every ounce of happiness.

In three months, she'd be walking down the aisle, and he would be right there, proud to see her begin her new life.

But his chest tightened as the laughter faded into the background. Slowly, he pulled a folded paper from his pocket. The edges were worn, the ink faint in places from how many times he had opened it.

Mara's letter.

He had never thrown it away.

His thumb traced the words he knew by heart, and the ache returned mercilessly. She had left him on what should have been the happiest day of his life.

She had taken their future, their child, and walked away without giving him the chance to fight for them.

Everyone told him to forget. To move on. But he knew he never would.

He pressed the letter back against his chest, shutting his eyes. His sister's laughter carried up again, bright and full of life. Giovanni forced a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

He was happy for her. Truly.

But for himself... he wasn't sure happiness would ever come again.

.....

And here’s the ending of book one🥺 
Book two will be about Giovanni and Mara’s story. If you liked this story, please leave me your reviews. I’ll appreciate it.