Epilogue: The Best Mistake
678 Words
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue – The Best Mistake
One Year Later
The Blake penthouse was unusually loud.
Not because of business calls.
Not because of reporters.
But because someone was laughing uncontrollably.
“I told you this would happen.”
Ava stood in the middle of the kitchen, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face.
Across from her, Ethan Blake, billionaire CEO and one of the most feared businessmen in New York, was covered in flour.
From his black shirt…
To his expensive hair.
To the tip of his nose.
He looked horrified.
Arthur laughed so hard he had to sit down.
“I haven’t seen Ethan lose a fight since he was ten!”
“It wasn’t a fight,” Ethan muttered.
“It was baking.”
“Worse,” Arthur wheezed.
Earlier that morning…
Ava had insisted they bake a cake together for Arthur’s birthday.
“You know I can simply buy one.”
“That’s exactly why we’re making one.”
“I’ve never baked.”
“I know.”
“That’s concerning.”
She smiled.
“It’ll be fun.”
He had believed her.
That had been his first mistake.
“You measured salt instead of sugar.”
“I followed the recipe.”
“You read the wrong line.”
“I see that now.”
She burst into laughter again.
Without warning…
Ethan scooped a handful of flour.
“Ava.”
She stepped backward.
“No.”
“You started this.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You laughed.”
“So?”
“So…”
A tiny smile appeared.
“…this is revenge.”
He tossed the flour.
Ava squealed.
Seconds later…
The kitchen exploded into chaos.
Arthur wisely retreated to the dining room.
Noah, arriving with birthday gifts, opened the front door just in time to witness Ava throwing cookie dough at Ethan.
He quietly closed the door again.
“I’ll come back.”
Arthur stopped him.
“No.”
“Stay.”
“This is history.”
Half an hour later…
The kitchen looked like a disaster zone.
The cake looked…
Questionable.
But no one cared.
Arthur blew out the candles anyway.
“It’s perfect.”
“It leans to one side,” Ethan pointed out.
Arthur smiled.
“So did my first business.”
Everyone laughed.
That evening…
The guests had gone home.
The city lights shimmered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Ava stood on the balcony, wrapped in one of Ethan’s jackets.
He joined her, handing her a mug of hot chocolate.
“You’ve converted me.”
She looked at him.
“To what?”
“Staying home.”
She smiled.
“You used to spend every evening working.”
“I know.”
“And now?”
He slipped an arm around her waist.
“I already have everything I need here.”
She rested her head against his shoulder.
“Do you ever regret it?”
“What?”
“The contract.”
He looked out across the skyline.
“If I hadn’t needed a fake fiancée…”
“I would’ve never met my wife.”
He smiled softly.
“So no.”
“I don’t regret it.”
“Not for a second.”
Ava reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out something folded.
He frowned.
“What is that?”
“The contract.”
His eyes widened.
“You kept it?”
“I asked Noah to retrieve it after the investigation.”
She unfolded the slightly worn pages.
“The document that started everything.”
Ethan laughed.
“Should we frame it?”
She pretended to think.
“No.”
She tore the first page in half.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Tiny pieces fluttered into the fireplace behind them.
“No more contracts.”
She smiled.
“Only promises.”
He gently took her face in his hands.
“I like that better.”
Then he kissed her.
Slowly.
Tenderly.
The way he always did now.
No cameras.
No audience.
No pretending.
Just love.
- Writer
