I opened a new message. For a minute, I didn’t even know what to type. There was so much I could say, and none of it felt right.
So, I kept it simple.
Me: I’ll take the role. We’ll talk soon.
I stared at it for a while, then hit send.
That was it. No apologies. No explanations. Just the truth.
Because this wasn’t for him.
I wasn’t doing it to make him proud or to fix what he broke. I was doing it for the woman who built all of this before either of us understood its worth, for the mother I only got five years with, and the girl who made me want to stop wasting every other year after her.
Aurora shifted in her sleep, murmuring something, her hand reaching across the bed. I slid back under the blanket, tucking her close.
One arm around her waist. One promise already made.
I’ll take it when he’s ready to let go.
After graduation, after he’s done pretending this empire is all he has left. For now, I’ll build something that’s mine, for my mum, for the kids, for Aurora.
And when the time comes, I’ll take it all.
On my own terms.
Epilogue
Joshua
3 weeks later…
I was buried in work and emails about reopening the orphanage, laptop open, trying to focus on something that wasn’t her. But of course, with Aurora in the house, that was impossible. I heard the soft sound of her slippers first, padding across the marble floor. Then her voice—
“Joshua.”
I looked up, and everything in my brain short-circuited.
Holy fuck—
She had her hair down in loose waves, the prettiest sundress I’d ever seen in my life. It was light yellow with little white flowers, and she had that signature soft, shy smile that knocked the air right out of me plastered on her face.
My mouth went dry.
“Yeah, Princess?”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a familiar black card, tapping it gently against the edge of my desk. “You left this in my wallet.”
I blinked. “No, I gave you that.”
She tilted her head. “Joshua.”
“Aurora,” I mimicked her tone, leaning back in my chair.
Her brows furrowed in that adorable way, as if she were torn between lecturing me and laughing. “You can’t just—”
“Give my girlfriend a card with no limit?” I cut in. “Yeah, I can. It’s called spoiling you.”
She sighed, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “I have a job now, remember? Your aunt’s husband hired me for that remote research thing.”
