Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 533

Chapter 533: Epilogue

Athena moved slowly across the center of the garden, her fingers laced securely with Ewan’s. Their wedding bands caught the warm lantern-light whenever they spun, glinting like quiet promises.

Music drifted around them, the kind that seemed written solely for their steps.

Her gown, Areso’s masterpiece, shimmered with each turn, the silk catching the light in pale waves that made her look as though she were dancing inside a gentle moonbeam.

Peace. That was the first thing she felt.

Not the stunned, fragile peace that came after surviving disaster, but the deep, settling kind that soaked into her bones. It was as if every wound, every chase, every fear had finally loosened its grip on her.

Ewan leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, making her chuckle despite the lump rising in her throat.

His eyes sparkled—that warm blue she had loved since childhood—and she followed his gaze toward Kathleen and Nathaniel, who were tearing across the garden after Kendra and Cairo, their laughter floating into the night.

Hours ago, this same garden—Old Mr. Thorne’s treasured space—had looked completely different. Only white ribbons had hung from the trees, simple floral strands trailing down like snow-filled vines.

Chairs had been arranged neatly in a small circle, the priest standing in the middle waiting for them. Only their closest family had been present, and the vows... oh, the vows had undone them all.

Florence had cried so hard that Old Mr. Thorne had needed to steady her. Even Ewan had choked up mid-sentence, his voice trembling faintly as he slid the ring onto her finger.

Athena had cried too. She hadn’t even tried to hide it.

It had felt like a lifetime coming—this union, this moment, this sealing of hearts long torn apart by tragedy, time, and secrets. She was grateful they had earned their way back to one another. Grateful that battle after battle had failed to crush what was meant to bloom.

Now the garden had been transformed entirely. Rows of lanterns floated overhead, suspended on nearly invisible threads, glowing like captured fireflies. The pathways shimmered with golden dust that Areso and Chelsea had sprinkled earlier.

Tables wrapped in fine lace stood beneath blossom-heavy trees, their branches tangled with ribbons and soft lights. The whole yard looked like a fairytale night come to life.

Glasses clinked from all corners. Laughter rippled beneath the music. Sandro cheered as Ewan spun her gently, making the skirt of her dress bloom in a slow, graceful arc. She felt weightless. Beautiful. Alive.

Old Mr. Thorne and his wife danced near one of the lamp posts. Both were smiling through glistening eyes, probably reliving their own vows ages ago.

Athena sighed softly, leaning her head against Ewan’s chest as they glided. It was true that evil never slept for long, she knew that. But for tonight—tonight was theirs.

Ewan’s hand stroked the back of her waist. "What are you thinking about?" he murmured, his voice low, velvety, pulling her eyes back to him.

A slow smile curved her lips. "Everything. And nothing," she whispered. "Mostly just... this. Us."

He studied her like she was a miracle that had stepped down to dance only with him. His heart swelled, pressed tight against his ribs. He still couldn’t fully grasp that she was here, standing before him as his wife.

His wife.

The little boy who had fallen hopelessly in love with her had known something he hadn’t been old enough to understand.

If anything, he could count falling into the tub a blessing, as it had restored memories of this fiery woman that was his now, when she was younger.

Oh, how wild she had been! Dragging him through bushes, telling him names of flowers.

She nudged him lightly with her elbow. "Stop looking at me like that."

"How am I supposed to stop?" he murmured, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. "Look at you."

She tried and failed not to blush, so she stuck her tongue out at him before he caught her waist and gave her a slow, dramatic twirl.

The End.

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******AUTHOR’S NOTE*******

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