Chapter 134 EPILOGUE

Chapter 134 EPILOGUE
SIX YEARS LATER

❄︎ Viktor ❄︎

The wind carried the faint scent of roses and overturned earth.

Marcella sat between my arms, small and warm. 

My daughter. My gift. My blessing. My future.

She stretched her hand and placed a single rose at the base of the gravestone. The petals brushed the marble like a whisper.

My chest tightened. 

I took a slow breath, steadying myself.

“What was her favorite color?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at me, her gray eyes—my gray eyes, bright with curiosity. “And did she like playing the piano?”

“I heard she almost always wore red,” I told her softly. “And yes… she loved the piano. The one at home was hers.”

Marcella nodded, satisfied for a moment, then she turned her gaze back to the stone. Her curls brushed against my arm as she leaned closer.

“She was kind,” I continued quietly, more to myself than to her. “And beautiful. You didn’t get enough time with her… neither did I. But she’ll always be here with us. Watching, and loving us from the sky.”

Marcella smiled, her chubby cheeks rosy. 

“Can we come back tomorrow? To show her my scrunchie collection?”

I chuckled. If she had her way, we’d be here every day of the week.

“We don’t have to, Tesoro. She’s always with us, remember?”

She pouted, crossing her arms. Then she gave me those puppy eyes—Rosa’s eyes, almond-shaped but gray instead of hazel. Shining with the same mischief and fire.

I brushed a hand through her inky black curls. “You’re so much like your mother,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She squirmed away, giggling, and darted toward her next victim. The sound of her laughter filled the air like sunlight through clouds.

I swore then, that I’d protect our daughter with everything in me.

That I’d give her the world, and never let her know the kind of darkness that once made us who we were.

❦   ❄︎   ❦   ❄︎   ❦   ❄︎   ❦   ❄︎   ❦

❦ Rosalind ❦

The flower-scented wind played through my hair, teasing strands across my face.

I closed my eyes and let it, breathing in the peace, the roses, the musk of green. 

When I opened them again, Viktor was right there, kneeling across from me, sunlight catching in the dark waves of his hair.

Marcella sat tucked in his arms, her little fingers wrapped around him like he was her anchor. 

She was only five, but already so much like him. She was strong, sharp-eyed, and always observing before she spoke. 

My heart ached just looking at them.

I could have missed this.

I could have missed this entire world we’d built.

If the doctors hadn’t saved me in time.

If the poison had won.

If Viktor hadn’t…

I pressed a hand to my chest, cutting the thought short. I still remembered how it felt—his hands holding me, the panic in his voice, the blur of sirens, the cold hospital light. It all came back sometimes in flashes, the way trauma does. 

But then Marcella would laugh, and the sound would pull me back into now. Into life.

They said Dahlia had thrown herself overboard during the commotion. Her body washed up miles away, empty eyes staring at the horizon.

I didn’t hate her anymore.

I couldn’t.

She’d been a wounded animal, trapped in her own bitterness. And I’d learned something about hate. It only ate the person who carried it.

A sudden giggle yanked me from my thoughts. Before I could react, a bundle of pink taffeta crashed into me. 

I laughed, my arms wrapping around my daughter, pulling her close until her laughter dissolved into hiccups. I pressed a kiss to her hair, breathing her in.

“Can we come back to see Grandma tomorrow?” she asked, her voice muffled against my chest.

I smiled and brushed a curl out of her eyes. 

“I heard your daddy say we don’t have to come every day, my love. You should trust him.”

She pouted, her tiny mouth trembling in that way that always made Viktor cave. 

“But I miss her already.”

“I know,” I said softly. “So do I.”

She sighed as if the weight of the world sat on her small shoulders, then nodded.

“Okay.”

Then she kissed my cheek and darted off, her voice echoing across the quiet garden. 

“Aunt Julie!”

I watched her run toward Juliana, the two of them laughing and spinning, sunlight catching the pink in her dress. 

Beside Juliana stood Claudia.

It had taken time, but I’d forgiven her too. 

I'd felt betrayed about her keeping the truth about my mother’s death. It had felt impossible to come back from, but grief changes the shape of things. It teaches you what’s worth holding onto, and what isn’t.

I’d made Claudia swear her loyalty—no more secrets, and to help raise Marcella. Despite her actions, she’d done a great job with me.

She’d cried when I asked, her hands shaking as she held Marcella for the first time. Since then, she became devoted to Marcella like she were her own blood. 

I looked back at Viktor. He was watching me. Always watching. The same eyes that used to hold storms now looked at me like I was the only thing that ever steadied them. 

He reached for my hand, and when I gave it, he brought it to his lips.

Warmth bloomed where we touched.

“Come home,” he said quietly.

My throat tightened. “In a minute.”

He smiled that soft, dangerous smile that had reeled me in from the start. Then he rose to join the rest of our family.

He scooped Marcella up as she ran back to him, and kissed her nose. She squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

I stayed there for a moment longer, the breeze tugging at my dress. The world was finally still.

For the first time in years, peace didn’t feel like something fragile I could lose.

It felt like something we’d bled for. 

Something we’d earned.

“Ti amo, mama.” I whispered. 

And the wind whispered it back. 

❦