Page 25 of Insatiable

Epilogue

A Year Later:

Halloween had come again, but this time, everything was different.

I stood in the flower shop, arranging bouquets in the soft afternoon light. The air smelled of fresh lilies and damp earth, a blend that grounded me. This shop had become my refuge—a sanctuary away from the horrors of the past. The flowers were delicate, fleeting, and yet, they held me together.

“Katie, we’re done for the day,” I called, glancing her way. She sat by the window, cradling a cup of coffee, her eyes soft when they met mine.

Katie only remembered fragments—flashes of chaos and terror from that night. The injury to her head had taken the rest. What little she did remember, she buried deep, too afraid to face it. The others—the police, the media, even the public—accepted the story I gave them without question: There was a fire, the mansion collapsed while everyone else slept, and only Katie and I managed to escape. They called it an accident.

But only I knew the truth. The whole truth.

“You sure you’re okay tonight?” Katie asked, her voice tinged with concern. “I don’t know... I just have this weird feeling.”

It was that time of year. Perhaps she felt uneasy—not for herself, but for me.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’ve got plans.”

Katie didn’t push. She never did. After everything we’d been through, she trusted me enough to let the silence fill in the gaps.

She nodded as she stood, grabbing her jacket, and gave me a lingering look.

“If you need me—”

“I know,” I said softly. “I’ll call.”

She smiled one last time before heading out into the cool evening. The bell over the door chimed, leaving the shop wrapped in silence. I let out a breath, staring at the empty space where she had been.

That nightchanged everything. I wasn’t the same woman clinging to a broken marriage, waiting for someone else to decide my worth. Something snapped in me. I finally believed in myself. I stopped waiting for life to happen and made it happen.

I didn’t hold back. I sued Phoenix for alimony and a share of his assets. All those years of standing by him while he screwed other women—including my so-called friend, Maya—came to light. His affairs, his neglect. I made sure the court saw it all, and I won.

The settlement was more than enough to make my flower shop flourish and expand. Now, there are five Rose Garden locations across the city—each one a symbol of how I rose from the ashes.

And I guess, life had its own way of serving justice. After the settlement, Phoenix spiraled, drinking heavily until his recklessbehavior caught up with him. A car crash left him paraplegic from the waist down, and he couldn’t even get it up anymore. For a man who lived for control and thrived on sex, it was the ultimate punishment. The man who once thought he owned the world was now trapped in a body that betrayed him every day.

Pushing the thoughts aside, I locked up and drove back to my apartment. The night air was cool, the chill biting against my skin, but it didn’t help calm the jittery feeling coursing through me. There was something familiar in the air tonight, a pull I couldn’t ignore. I had to keep my promise. A promise I made a year ago.

Once inside the apartment, the scent of pumpkin spice greeted me. I had made it a habit to light those candles every morning before leaving for work, letting the sweet, warm smell linger. It gave me a sense of routine, something to hold onto. But tonight, as I breathed in that familiar scent, a tug deep in my chest reminded me that some things hadn’t changed. Even though I didn’t need to anymore, my body still produced milk.

I didn’t fight it and just like before, I still donated to the milk bank, telling myself that at least something good had to come from the nightmare I survived. It was a strange comfort, knowing that even in the darkness, something as simple as that could make a difference.

I quickly changed into a black dress and stood in front of the mirror—long sleeves, simple. It felt right for tonight. I reached for the witch’s hat on my dresser and smiled at my reflection. A witch. Perfect for Halloween.

As I started doing up the buttons, my hand brushed against my breast, and suddenly, the memories of that night crashed over me. The Creepers eyes—glowing, piercing—flashed in my mind. The raw connection, the way he made me feel alive ina way I hadn’t known was possible. And tonight, I was going to see him again. I was going to keep the promise I made: to return.

Just as I reached for my keys, the doorbell rang.

My heart stuttered in my chest. The sound wasn’t casual or playful like trick-or-treaters. It was deliberate. Expectant.

I crossed the room slowly and when I opened the door, the breath was knocked out of me.

He was there.

Tall, sharp-featured, unsettlingly familiar. His eyes—piercing, knowing—locked onto mine, and a slow smile crept across his lips.

“Can I help you?” I whispered, barely able to steady my voice.

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