Page 102 of Claimed By the Villain

But mostly because now, I allow myself to cry.

I don’t want to get sick inside, drowned in emotions or feelings. Mostly good ones, lately, but of course, many painful ones as well.

After my conversation with Lucifer in New Orleans, we never brought up our past again. That doesn’t mean, however, that I haven’t revisited my own story in my mind countless times.

I processed everything he revealed about his life. Then I did the same with mine.

I forced myself to remember my father and what he did.

I forced myself to remember Martin and what he did.

I never looked at Lucifer through rose-colored lenses. I may not have been certain, just as I’m not to this day, of all the crimes he’d committed, but I always knew he stood on the wrong side of life.

So if I was honest enough to see my own private monster, the one I call my husband, it was only fair that I do the same with my family.

In the end, I despised them. My father and Martin.

Not only because they were suppliers for pedophiles but also because they betrayed the trust and faith of a child already so mistreated.

They deceived him. Sold him an illusion of normality, then betrayed him.

Four months ago, on the day I had my first ultrasound to make sure our baby was fine, I made the decision to forget them, starting today, the day of my second wedding.

The wedding of my dreams, with the love of my life.

I will leave the past behind. I’ll refuse to speak their names and will keep only the memories of my mother alive.

“Was it everything you expected?” Lucifer asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind as I watch the ocean in the middle of the night, on our island.

We only invited a few guests, and they’re all asleep by now.

I put my bridal gown back on after our blissful wedding night and came to walk by the water’s edge. I wanted this wedding so much, with every detail I dreamed of, that I can’t let go of my dress so easily.

I turn in his arms and smile. “Yes, everything was perfect. Aren’t you going to ask why I put the dress on again?”

He shrugs. “No, I already know. You adored it and want to enjoy it a little longer, my dreamy wife. Besides, I like the idea of stripping you out of it a second time.”

“I love you, Lucifer. Even when you’re rough.”

His face turns serious. “I’m yours, Jackie. No polish, no varnish. You have all of me. You’re the only one who owns me.”

I rest my head on his chest and recall what I felt as I walked alone down the aisle built on the beach for our ceremony earlier today.

Lucifer, in this second celebration, gave me everything, fulfilled every small wish I had, and having Taylor and Amber with me was the crowning touch for building new memories.

When I said “I do” to him at the altar, I cried.

When he whispered his vow of love in my ear, the tears kept falling because every cell in my body was overwhelmed by the force of what we feel for each other.

Is our love broken? Maybe. But what real, lived feeling, not just idealized, is whole?

I lift my head, and when I look into his eyes, I know that from this moment, our “forever” truly begins.

Lucifer speaks much more through his silences than his words, but sometimes he gifts me with unexpected declarations that still leave my knees trembling. Like now, for instance, when he holds my chin and says:

“I love you, wife. You’ve always been my home, my shelter. I have everything in you, Jackie.”

Epilogue 2