Mya laughs through her tears, nodding so hard her curls bounce. “Yes,” she chokes out. “Yes, Worth. Of course, yes.”
The place erupts in applause, cheers, and someone actually whistles. Brianna is taking a thousand pictures on her phone, practically vibrating with happiness.
I slide the ring onto Mya’s finger, then stand and pull her in, kissing her like the world paused just for us.
When we break, foreheads touching, breaths mingling, I whisper, “It’s not just for now anymore.”
Her eyes, full of happy tears, shine up at me as she shakes her head.
“It’s just until forever.”
EPILOGUE
MYA
SOME MONTHS LATER
Project Rebuild stretches in front of me.
What was once a forgotten, broken stretch of abandoned buildings now breathes with new life, colorful murals slowly being painted into existence.
This place is going to shelter people. Families. Girls who need somewhere safe. Kids who just need a chance. People who need proof that sometimes lifedoesgive you something back.
A worker jogs up to me, clipboard tucked under his arm. “We’re finishing the south wing today. You want the final walkthrough before the inspection tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” I smile. “Let’s do it.”
He heads off and I take a second just to stand there and take it in.
When I first pitched this to the W.H.M. board, there were doubts. I had the ugly assumption that somehow Worth had handed me success on a silver platter. That the board would vote in favor of my project as some polite courtesy to the wife of a powerful man.
But I made them listen. I showed them research, layout plans, long-term projections, outreach integration, measurable impact. Programs tailored to real lives. I sold them the reality that this isn’t charity—this is rebuilding a community with dignity.
And they didn’t say yes because of my last name.
They said yes because I earned it.
It’s empowering knowing that Worth stood on the sidelines and watched me fight without stepping in. He didn’t clear the path for me.
He just believed I could walk it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
His name lights across the screen.
I brace a smile before I even answer. “Hey, playboy.”
“Hey, pretty girl.” Worth’s voice is warm, silky, wrapped in a smile I can picture without seeing. “How’s my brilliant fiancée?”
“Busy changing lives,” I say, teasing.
“That’s right. I’m proud of you, Mrs. Miller.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, cheeks heating. “Not until tomorrow.”
He hums. “Technicalities.”
“Legalities,” I correct.