The One Who Got Away is Back

Epilogue ♡ Four Weddings and A Funeral Later

Today was a big day.

I was getting interviewed by a famous journalist who wanted to write an article about my budding fashion empire.

After my father passed away, Schmitt called me claiming that I'd been left with the entirety of the Holt fortune. Not just my long forgotten trust fund, but the entire Holt conglomerate, stocks, capital and miscellaneous things like art pieces, properties and a collection of cars.

I freaked out.

I hadn't made up with him for money. I never wanted anyone to think that. But Schmitt was very concise as he explained that my father had made the decision long before I even visited him the first time.

"You see," he said, his nose turned up. "Your father followed your progress for years. I'd dare say he got to know you better after having cut you off."

"Was he stalking me?" I asked, flabbergasted.

This only made him sneer. "No, you silly child. He followed you on Linkedin."

I went through my followers after that, looking for his name, and instead what I found was someone called Al The Second. My father had used a fake account to see what I'd been up to for years. I regretted having lost all that time where I could've got to know him better, but there was nothing I could do other than to accept his legacy.

Which I did, by selling absolutely every asset not related to retail and fashion, and donating the lion's share to both research on cancer and legislation against gun violence. Now that Jessica's wife was a senator for the state of Florida, I figured bills on the matter had a decent chance.

That was the first thing that put me in the news. I remembered a headline that went something like Eccentric heiress donates fortune to charity. My PR person spun the story to drive the attention toward my business, because the smaller share I had left after selling off the assets and paying off my student debt, I spent on buying Angela's portion of Tropicana. And with wedding gowns designed and hand made by me for three of the most important weddings in the state, we also caught the attention of the press.

Eccentric heiress who donated fortune to charity also designs the wedding gowns of Florida's first openly lesbian senator and wife, senator's main donor's wife's and that of state's star hockey player's wife's.

That would've been one hell of a clunky headline, and yet here we were. I had more business than I knew what to do with. Tropicana had evolved into a purely app based design and fast fashion retailer with a focus on recyclable materials. We'd grown our workforce twofold and separately I had a budding wedding gowns business that I was working to position among the most coveted. I promoted Marisol into head designer at Tropicana, which allowed me to focus on the bridal startup.

And all of that had happened in just two years.

Ellen Young sat before me with an iPad that she used to record the interview as well as make notes. I was so starstruck by the fact that I was being interviewed by an award winning journalist and a household name in my hometown, that I stumbled and stammered through the recap of my accomplishments. Despite my poor delivery, she positively beamed at me.

"And you also designed your own wedding dress?" she asked.

I nodded, motioning at the dream of champagne that encased my fluttering stomach. "Yes, I did. It took me over a year to make it."

"And it's absolutely worth it, you look breathtakingly beautiful." She sighed. "Although I do feel sorry that we're taking time from your wedding day for this interview."

Did I mention today was a special day? Because, yeah, it was the day of my interview with Ellen and also my wedding day.

I smiled at her. "I should be the one to apologize to you, my agenda's just kinda busy these days."