And even though I’m grateful that thousands of people have come forward, making this case stronger—until I see him behind bars, until I know for sure he can never hurt another soul—I will never feel safe.
Right now, he’s out there, traveling the world, sipping expensive whiskey, living his best life.
Denying.
Lying.
Destroying lives.
Including mine.
I just pray to God he finally gets the karma he deserves.
EPILOGUE
MELANIE
Nick stood beside Colt, and damn, he looked so good it almost hurt. I wanted him—right here, right now. I wanted him to drag me into the nearest bathroom, pin me against the cold tile, and take me raw before we had to stand up in front of everyone and give our speeches.
But instead, I had to behave.
Chloe walked ahead, tiny feet stepping lightly on a path of red rose petals, Faye trailing behind her. The kid was definitely a Killian. Chloe had started walking at nine months and had it mastered by ten. That seemed ridiculously early, but what did I know about babies?
Abigail didn’t have many friends, so it was just her sister and me standing up here, along with Colt, Nick, and Josh. As I glanced out over the hundreds of guests, I let my gaze settle on the stunning fall colors surrounding us—deep reds, burnt oranges, lush greens, and crisp white flower centerpieces. It was breathtaking.
And yet, standing there, waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle, a small part of me ached. Regret curled around my ribs, whispering about the wedding I never had—the grand, extravagant affair I once dreamed of. But at least Nick and I had ourhoneymoon next month. Italy. That would make up for it. That would help me forget.
Or try to.
Because reality was a weight I couldn’t shake. My stepfather had been arrested at the Ritz in New York a month ago, and the trial was coming fast. Whenever I thought about it, my emotions twisted into something raw and jagged. I’d obsessed over the news, leaving the national station on 24/7, unable to tear myself away from every update, every headline. Until finally, I’d forced myself to stop. To breathe. To trust in something bigger than myself, like our pastor had taught me.
Sophia kept me updated on the major developments. Last I heard, Richard had offered the judge fifty million for bail. The judge refused.
Good.
The smile that crossed my lips was sharp and unforgiving. Now it was his turn to know what it felt like to survive in hell.
The music shifted, a soft swell of strings signaling the moment everyone had been waiting for. A hush fell over the crowd, followed by the quiet rustle of fabric and shuffling feet as the guests rose in unison.
I glanced at Colt. His hands were clasped in front of him, his shoulders squared, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his chest rose just a little too fast. He was ready. So damn ready. But nerves flickered in his eyes, warring with the overwhelming love I knew he carried for Abigail.
Then, his breath hitched. A single tear slipped down his cheek, and a small, almost disbelieving smile followed.
She was here.
I turned, and the sight of Abigail nearly stole my breath, too.
She looked ethereal, like she had stepped out of a dream—no, a fairytale. The delicate lace of her long-sleeved gown clung to her frame, intricate patterns swirling over ivory fabric, making her look every bit the princess she was. All five-foot-three of her radiated grace, beauty, and something even deeper—happiness, pure and unshakable.
Our eyes met, and my chest swelled.
My friend deserved this. Every single second of it. The love, the joy, the future stretching out before her.
Even though Nick was standing a few feet away, I felt Nick’s presence beside me, warm and steady; I realized something else. For the first time, I truly believed I deserved it, too.
After the ceremony—stunning, tear-soaked, and full of promise—we followed the couple into the reception, hearts still thrumming. The air buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses, music pulsed through the floor, and the scent of rich, warm food wrapped around us like a second invitation to celebrate.
“Want to dance?” Bodie asked Faye, his voice carrying a mix of nerves and excitement. It was the most endearing thing I’d ever seen. Faye’s face lit up as she nodded, letting Bodie take her hand and lead her toward the dance floor. The opening beats of Love Shack pulsed through the speakers—no surprise there. Abigail adored ’80s music.
