Page 108 of Reign By Wrath

Epilogue

One Year Later

Idug my toes in thesand, relaxing as the warmth spread up my feet.

True paradise. We’d found it.

“Sinclair.” Wilder dropped down and handed me a piña colada from the beach bar. His six-year-old companion giggled from around his shoulders.

“Uncle Wild,” Liam said. “I want to swim.”

“You don’t know how to swim.”

“That’s not true!”

No one on earth had ever been more outraged at the blatant truth.

I laughed, tickling the little boy under the arm. Shrieking, he squirmed and nearly kicked his uncle in the face.

A year ago, after I sprung my boyfriends from prison, Wolfgang introduced us to the person who changed his life—the one Everleigh used to blackmail him.

Wolfgang had enough enemies gunning for him. The one thing they could never know is he had the biggest weakness of all—a son. Wolf wanted him to have the normal life his mother denied him and Wilder, and it was that realization that woke him up to how awful their childhood was and how badly he’d treated Wilder.

“I rationalized and explained everything I did until I asked myself what I’d do to the person who treated my son like that. The torture I’d put them through hasn’t been invented yet,” Wolf told Wilder that day. “I was wrong, brother. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I give my apology.”

“Is it weird that we brought this little ankle biter on the honeymoon?”

I smooched Liam’s cheek. “Not weird at all, especially because it’s not a honeymoon. You need a wedding for that.”

“Made sense to cancel.” Victor plopped down on my other side, his drink in hand. “We’re young. Dad finally retired. We’ve got plenty of time to get married. So we ditched the wedding but still went on the trip.”

“It’s summer vacation,” I said. “Now is the time to sun it up, plan for the future, take care of business.”

“Speaking of business, we’ve got another job.” Wilder handed me his phone.

Months and months later, the new Rogues handled all the revenge commissions based on the now-dead T.O.D. Club. At first, a wave of them came in because no one confessed. They all stupidly thought I was bluffing.

When the twelfth trust-fund baby wound up in a ditch, the Royals got the hint. A mess of them moved out of Regalia, thinking they’d escape punishment, but all it did was take the franchise global. Rafael, Cato, Lucien, and Wilder dropped out of school to handle the out-of-state and overseas business.

As for the rest of the Royals, Saylor and I brought partbof the plan to her father and grandfather, who took to it easier than we expected. Any Royal who didn’t leave on their own was evicted.

Regalia, home of the über-rich and connected, was no more. The Burkhardts sent all their renters packing, then Dario donated the land and homes. Regalia was now a collection of fancy orphanages, women’s shelters, refugee housing, and housing for homeless or low-income individuals.

The stack of applications wrapped around the world when Uncle Dario announced he was donating all those mansions for practically nothing. He didn’t profit from the gesture, but he did win the presidential election by a landslide.

With the Royals scattered all over the world, making new business and social connections separate from the Royal line, that was the end of the system. Saylor didn’t protest this loudly or at all. Thanks to the text messages, she would’ve inherited a Royal line that hated her and tried to sabotage her at every turn. She accepted that it wasn’t worth the headache, and she’d keep the billions coming through her inheritance instead. Not a bad trade-off.

Saylor looked up from her lounge. “What’s the job? Anything that’d interest me?”

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