Chapter 22 — Epilogue
When I won the international photography award, my wedding announcement with Hunter dropped the same day.
The internet lost its mind. Congratulations poured in like champagne.
That night, I got a call from an unknown number.
It was Bailey White.
Her voice was brittle, ugly with bitterness.
“Savannah,” she hissed, “I can’t believe you pulled this off.”
“I left them space. You looked like the winner. And still, even after screwing me, Landon and Logan whispered your name in their sleep.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Even after all that, those boys waited four damn years hoping I’d come back.
I didn’t.
And the more I stayed away, the more they obsessed.
I became their untouchable fantasy.
And Bailey? She was the bloodstain on their sheets. Disposable.
But four years of designer bags and champagne brunches don’t pay for themselves. So she bounced from man to man, trying to hold on to the life she’d stolen.
When she saw the wedding photos online, she snapped.
Called me like it’d change a damn thing.
I laughed, cold and clean. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”
Click. I hung up.
And then something strange happened.
The livestream comments came back.
I hadn’t seen them in years, since I broke the script and chose my own story.
【Holy shit, it’s an epilogue?! She really ended up with the hot demon uncle??】
【Newlyweds on wedding night?! Congrats, Queen!】
They were cheering now.
Softer. Sweeter. Like I finally made it out alive.
I smiled. “Thanks.”
【Wait… Savvy, can you actually see these?】
One cautious comment blinked in.
“I always could,” I said.
A beat of silence. Then chaos.
We talked. Like old friends who’d watched me bleed and rise again.
And they told me something I hadn’t known—
I’d been the one steering the story the whole damn time.
When I chose not to chase, not to forgive, the plot collapsed on itself.
I blinked.
Then asked the question I’d buried for years:
“So… what’s the deal with Hunter? You said he’s some kind of demon obsessed with me. That true?”
【Hehe, guess what? You’re about to find out.】
Just then, the bathroom door creaked open.
Hunter stepped out, towel in hand, his hair wet, chest glistening, a drop of water sliding down every perfect cut of muscle.
He looked at me like I was dessert.
“Babe,” he said, voice low and sinful, “shower’s all yours.”
— The End —
