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"Everything okay?" he asks as soon as she leaves, though his eyes are fixed on the little bundle in his arms.
"Yes. We were having a mother-to-mother talk."
He nods, still focused on his son. "He’s perfect, Brooklyn. You’re perfect. I want to do everything right for you because I’m whole now."
He looks at me, and for the first time, I see my husband with tears in his eyes.
"Come here." When he gets closer, I take his hand and kiss it. "We’ll be imperfect far more often than perfect most of the time, but none of that matters to me as long as, in the end, we’re whole together. I love you, husband."
Athanasios
EPILOGUE TWO
Eight Years Later
I step into the hospital room, as I’ve done once a year sinceshewas admitted here.
It’s not clinical curiosity that drives me, nor the hope that she’ll wake up, but the need to be certain she’s being punished.
“Hello, Shelley. I’ll never know for sure if you can hear me or not, but I’ll keep taking my chances because I really want you to listen to me.”
I approach the bed and look at the woman hooked up to machines. I feel no emotion.
She is the enemy. The viper who tried to kill my wife and kept pursuing her afterward.
Later the same night Odin called me, I received another call, from an unlisted number. The man on the other end simply said:It’s over, Doctor. Have a good life.
I knew it was Beau, and I thought he’d killed the former agent.
To my surprise, about a year later, I was contacted by the FBI. They wanted me to see a patient.
When I arrived, they asked me to bring an ex-agent out of a coma, as they explained it. They didn’t give me her real name, but by then I’d already seen photos of her, and it didn’t take much to put two and two together and realize it was Shelley Edward.
Isn’t life ironic? The federal agents told me that they hoped, as the leading expert in my field, I would succeed where other doctors had failed. They had no idea Shelley had only been caught because of my relentless pursuit of justice for Brooklyn.
I visited her out of curiosity, only to look at the sleeping demon. But I didn’t last five minutes in the room before I walked out and told the government official who contacted me that there was nothing I could do.
The truth is, there wasn’t—and there isn’t—anything I want to do. My oath is to save lives, but she’s not at risk of dying. I monitor her condition with their authorization since they insisted I take on the case. They probably believe that one day I’ll bring her back.
She’ll never wake up by my hands.
It’s not an act; it’s an omission.
She’ll live in this mental prison forever if it’s up to me.
“I just came to say that I could try to wake you up, but I won’t. Your fate is worse than death. It’s a nightmare that may last many more years, and you’ll never know if the people you wronged in the past will come back to settle the score.”
Days Later
I watch my children playing, and as always happens when I’m certain they’re safe, a sense of peace spreads through my chest.
There’s no more danger. All threats are gone. Shelley Edward’s accomplices—the ones she hired to kill Brooklyn—were sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. The sentence was handed down the day after the trial.
“Dad, they’re not listening to me,” Silas says, crossing his arms over his chest and looking very upset as he points to his four siblings.
I have to stifle a laugh because even if he weren’t my own blood, he couldn’t be more like me: bossy and controlling, keeping the younger siblings in line with just one look. The only one who doesn’t bow to him is Soraya, who always reminds him that she’s five minutes older and that he owes her respect.
“Why don’t you have some fun and forget about them, my son?” my wife asks, walking up to us.