Picture Perfect - Page 182

But, Mason didn’t stop there. No, Mason—he was relentless, a storm that raged against the injustice of what had been done to me. With his help, we took the Winthrop estate to court.

The gavel fell like a declaration of independence, my heart swelling with a victory that wasn’t just about money. It was validation, acknowledgment of the pain they caused. Winning that suit, it meant something profound: freedom. Not just from them, but from the chains of financial need too. No more looking over my shoulder, wondering if I could afford to flee if the shadows ever crept too close again. That security—it’s a gift I can hardly comprehend.

“Are you done yet?” Saint’s voice rumbles behind me, pulling me out of the reverie. His presence is a warm blanket draped over my shoulders.

I giggle, surprised, as I feel his hands encircle my waist. “Almost,” I admit, leaning back into his chest, feeling his heartbeat against my spine. It’s steady, strong—just like him.

“Good,” he murmurs, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “Because I can’t wait another minute to get you all to myself.”

“I’m afraid you’re still going to have to share, husband.”

I slide the last of my belongings into the suitcase, the zipper catching slightly on a stubborn fabric edge. My hands work deftly to free it, before closing it all the way and pulling the suitcase to the floor at my feet.

“I’m fine with that,” he counters with a smirk, his dark curls tumbling into his eyes. It’s that untamed look that always makes my heart skip a beat.

“Good.” I stand on tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, which only promises of more to come. He tastes like anticipation and mint, a flavor I’d recognize anywhere.

I hear the door burst open. Before I can even turn around, Chess grabs hold of me and jumps on the bed. Dre follows him in, closing the door with a grin.

“Are you guys ready?” Dre asks, hopping onto the bed next to us.

“She just zippered that monstrosity shut,” Saint gestures to my overstuffed suitcase.

“Hey! I packed all the essentials.”

“I don’t see why you packed anything at all,” Chess teases, nipping at my jaw. “We’re just going to keep you naked the whole time.”

“We need to leave now if we’re going to make our flight.”

“Right.” I jump off the bed, grabbing my bag. “Let’s go.”

As we head out of the room, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed by the love and support surrounding me. These boys, who have become my family, have been there for me through everything. And as we make our way to the airport, I can’t help but think about how lucky I am. How much I love them all. How grateful I am that they decided to start digging into my secrets.

“You okay, Princess?”

Saint asks, his hand on my back.

“I’m more than okay,” I say, turning to look at him. “I’m happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Good,” he says, kissing me quickly before we head inside.

As we board the plane, I take one last look at the world behind me. It’s filled with pain and heartache, but it’s also filled with hope and love. And as we take off into the sky, I know that I’m leaving behind the darkness and stepping into the light. With these boys by my side, anything is possible.

Chapter seventy-eight

Saint

Epilogue #2: One Year Later

My thumb hammers against the side of my leg, a tattoo of nerves that I can’t seem to still. The digital numbers on the clock are a blur, but I force my eyes to focus, to make sense of the glowing red figures. They’re moving too slowly, every second stretching out like an eternity. My heart is a wild thing in my chest, pounding against my ribs as if it’s trying to escape.

“Get it together, Saint,” I mutter under my breath, my voice lost in the silence of the apartment. It’s just nerves, just the weight of what today means pressing down on me until I feel like I’m being crushed.

The room is perfectly arranged, the ambiance exactly how I pictured it when I dreamt up this plan. Candles flicker on every surface, casting shadows that dance across the walls and ceiling. In the middle of the living room, a single chair waits like a throne, draped with Princess’s favorite blanket—an emerald green one that matches her eyes.

I swipe a hand over my face, trying to rub away the tension that has settled there. Everything’s ready. The only missing piece is Princess. She’s got that last class of the day—a history lecture she always complains about because the professor drones on like a malfunctioning robot.

“Ten more minutes,” I tell myself, sneaking another glance at the clock. “Just ten more.” It’s nothing, a mere drop in the ocean of time. Then why does it feel like I’m the one drowning?