right? Almost all of us were victims of his in one way or another. Let’s not sugarcoat it. Let’s call it what it is. Gautier Dumont is dead. And the world is better for it.”
Everyone murmurs in response, nobody else being so bold as to say it, but we’re definitely all feeling it.
The Dumont brand will go on, in a whole new way, creating a whole new legacy.
The cycle is over.
And it ended with me.
EPILOGUE
PASCAL
Mallorca
Five years later
“Pascal. Help.”
I put my razor down and open the door to the bedroom, peering out around the corner.
Gabrielle is lying on her back, arms splayed, her bare legs dangling over the edge of the bed. On the floor beneath her feet is a pair of sandals. I can’t see her face over the gigantic mound of her pregnant belly.
“What happened?” I ask, coming around the bed to peer at her. I can’t help but smile. Even with her blonde hair covering half her face and the anguish in her blue eyes, she looks absolutely gorgeous. This is her third pregnancy, and I swear she gets more and more beautiful every time. It’s like she was made for it.
“I can’t reach my feet,” she cries out softly. “I can’t put my shoes on. I’m too fat.”
“Not too fat,” I remind her, placing my hand on her belly. “Too pregnant.”
“I won’t survive the next month.”
“You say that every time, and every time you do just fine,” I tell her, walking around the foot of the bed. “Better than fine. You’re a survivor.”
“Next time, you’re getting pregnant.”
I grin as I stoop down to pick up her sandals. “You’re already thinking of a next time? I thought you were at the never again part of the pregnancy.”
She just grumbles something as I pick up her feet and gently put her sandals on her. “Want help?” I ask, knowing she’s going to have to roll over if she wants to get up.
“Just leave me.”
“We have to go down for dinner in a few minutes,” I remind her.
“Then shave faster.”
I chuckle and head back into the bathroom, quickly shaving my face. Through the bathroom window, the evening light comes in. It’s October here, and though the time hasn’t changed yet, the days are getting shorter. But it’s still warm, and the breeze coming in through the window carries no chill, and I can hear the sounds of our daughters, Adele and Cadence, playing in the sand.
I smile to myself and catch sight of it in the reflection in the mirror. It’s been almost five years since Cadence was born and two since Adele. My face hasn’t changed all that much—let’s say the Dumont antiaging line does fucking wonders for the skin—but what change there is, is in the eyes. They have lines at the corners. They’re more prone to crinkling. Maybe from being in the sun but most likely from laughing. Smiling. Enjoying life. Loving my family.
It’s not always been easy. There have been ups and downs. Adele has a heart defect and has already had a few operations, and she’s just turned two. But she’s so strong. She’s a survivor, just like her mother. And she’s such a happy girl, nothing holds her back. If anything, we’re the ones who have to watch for her more carefully.
Being a father has taught me so much. When Cadence was born, I was more terrified than Gabrielle was. I thought I would turn right back into my father. I never had love growing up. I never had support or someone to really watch over me, nurture me, make sure that I would turn out right. All I got were harsh words and hard hands.
I told Gabrielle my fears over and over again as Cadence’s birth approached. At the time, I was still struggling with getting the Dumont company under control after my father’s death; then this tiny human being was on the way. I figured I would manage to fuck it up somehow. I had never been so scared.
But then Cadence was born, and everything I feared disappeared the moment I saw her face. The love I felt was bigger than me, bigger than us, bigger than the room. I knew I didn’t have to be afraid again.
That was a lie, of course. I’m a parent now. I’ll always be afraid.
I just don’t fear myself. Because I know that I would do absolutely anything for Cadence, Adele, and the little one on the way. I know that I am the opposite of