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My phone dings. The sound cuts through the silence like a gunshot. A message pops up from an unknown number. I open it. And everything inside me goes cold when I stare at a picture of Audra and me, taken today. Outside the chapel.

The caption beneath it:

Unknown Number:

Your wife looks a little beat… but stunning.

My vision tunnels. As impossible as it is, but there's no doubt anymore. No question. No coincidence.

I lift my gaze slowly. "I know exactly who the Collector is."

EPILOGUE

Twelve months later…

Maggie leans in, dabbing the last bit of shimmer on my eyelids with a tiny brush.

"Remember the last time we did this?" Her voice wavers just a bit, like it always does when she mentions Pete. "You were going to that fancy masquerade ball. You looked so nervous. I kept telling you the dress was perfect…"

I tune her out the way I've learned to do over the last few months, gently, without letting her see it. Some things still hurt to remember, even when they no longer cut as deep.

Kelly still doesn't speak to me. Not really. We exchange polite nods when I meet Maggie at her house. But the warmth is gone. I don't blame her. From the outside, it looks like I moved on too fast. The math on the twins' arrival was easy enough for anyone to do.

Maggie, though… Maggie is still like a sister to me. She understands that I had to move on. She doesn't fully agree with the suddenness of it all, but she tries. Our relationship took a hit, but we're both working to rebuild it, one careful conversation at a time.

It's been a rollercoaster these last twelve months.

For a while, it was pretty rough. Nightmares. Healing wounds. Learning how to be a wife and a mother-to-be while the shadow of the Collector still lingered. There were weeks when I woke up crying over Pete and weeks when I woke up terrified I'd lose Gabe too. But Gabe was there for all of it. All the important milestones, from the first ultrasound where we heard two heartbeats, to the day the nursery furniture arrived, to the middle-of-the-night ice-cream runs when the cravings hit hardest. He actually went himself a few times instead of sending someone.

Now, finally, we can have a real wedding without fear hanging over us. Well… there's always somebody waiting in the shadows. There always will be. But for now, it's quiet.

Maggie steps back and smiles at me in the mirror. "There. You look beautiful."

I stare at my reflection. The dress is everything I never let myself dream of: soft ivory lace that flows like water, delicate beading that catches the light, a train that pools behind me like a whisper. My hair is swept up with a few copper curls framing my face. The ring on my left hand sparkles, waiting for the matching band to accompany it for the rest of our lives.

I'm not the same woman who stood in front of that justice of the peace, bruised, terrified, and secretly pregnant. I'm stronger now. Wiser. More sure of who I am and who I want to be.

Motherhood has changed me in ways I never expected. Daryus and Nina are three months old and already tiny whirlwinds, Daryus, with Gabe's dark hair and my stubborn chin, and Nina, with my copper curls and Gabe's intense eyes. Daryus, we found out while I was pregnant, was Brick's wrestler name; we named our son in honor of him.

Gabe gives me enough adventure to keep the wild in me alive. Before I got too pregnant, we stole a week in the Maldives—crystal water, overwater villas, private beaches where no one could reach us. It was beautiful. Peaceful. The kind of trip that reminded me I could still be the girl who danced on tables, just safer now, wrapped in the arms of a man who would kill to protect that freedom.

Mom walks in, looking softer than she has in years. For a second, I almost don't recognize her like this. The sharp edges are still there—they always will be—but they're dulled now. Manageable. Esther's work—and the mental health cocktail she prescribed—has done wonders.

The surgery also helped. It went better than anyone expected. Follow-ups have all come back clean so far, no complications, no setbacks.

And me?

I'm fine.

No genetic markers. No ticking time bomb hiding in my DNA or the twins'. Of course, Gabe doesn't take chances. He still has me checked regularly, like he can outmaneuver fate if he throws enough control at it.

Maybe he can. Or maybe he just needs to believe he can. Either way, I let him.

Mom is better in a lot of ways. But notdifferent. She's still a narcissistic, self-involved bitch—Esther's words, not mine—and carries those sociopathic tendencies Esther warned me about. But she's… Better. Manageable. Gabe bought her a cat sanctuary on a separate property with a beautiful house and a full staff of helpers. It gave her purpose and space. Now I can finally breathe without her constant nagging pulling the air from my lungs.

"Oh, you look so pretty, Audra," she exclaims with misting eyes as she fusses with the veil. "Like a princess. Now if you would just straighten that spine a little…"

And there it is, the familiar dig. But now I can smile about it. Because I don't hear it every day, all day long. The distance has been a gift.