Epilogue

[Adam’s POV]

I open my eyes to blinding whiteness.

No transition. No fading in and out. One second, I’m dying in Caterina’s arms, my chest burning with bullet wounds, and the next, I’m standing in this vast nothingness again.

“Shit,” I mutter, flexing my fingers. They work perfectly here. No pain, no scars. I run my hands over my chest where the bullets had torn through me. Nothing. Not even phantom pain.

“Wow, back so soon?” a familiar voice says behind me.

I sigh, turning around to face her. Candice stands there, looking exactly the same as before, black suit, red tie, three bullet holes steadily leaking blood that vanishes before hitting the non-floor.

She chuckles, crossing her arms. “You know, most people try to avoid getting shot.”

“I didn’t try to get shot,” I snap. “I tried to save Caterina.”

“By jumping in front of bullets? How very heroic,” she says, sounding genuinely amused. “And stupid.”

I rub my temples, trying to process what just happened. “So I’m dead?”

“I mean it’s complicated,” Candice says cheerfully. “Though technically, your body is still warm. They’re doing CPR and stuff, but...” She makes a slicing motion across her throat.

“Great,” I mutter. “Just fucking great.”

Candice starts walking in a circle around me, her head tilted curiously. “You remember our deal, right? Die early, get to pick a new world?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah, I remember.”

Candice’s face brightens with excitement. “Oh, I have so many options for you!” She snaps her fingers, and suddenly, holographic images appear in the white void around us.

“You can go to Star Wars,” she says, gesturing to an image of a woman with red skins and horns and a red lightsaber. “You could even date a Sith?” She winks at me.

“I have a world where men are treated like kings,” she continues, pointing to another image of men lounging on thrones surrounded by women in servant attire. “Complete reversal of your current situation. You’d never have to fear a woman again.”

I watch as the images shift around us, feeling oddly detached from all of them.

“Or perhaps this one?” She waves toward a darker scene showing pale figures with glowing eyes. “A world with vampires, werewolves, and skinwalkers.”

I grimace at that one. “Pass.”

Candice keeps going, undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm. “Reverse gender role Warhammer 40K?” A scene of grotesque war and cosmic horror materializes. Giant, unnaturally shaped women in huge blue armor killing aliens and orcs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I blurt out. “No one wants to live in that world.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You’d be surprised. People request it constantly.”

I shake my head, watching the images swirl around us. None of them call to me. None of them feel right.

“I want to go back,” I say finally.

Candice stops her sales pitch mid-sentence. “What?”

“Can you put me back?” I ask, more firmly this time.

She sulks, her lower lip jutting out like a child denied candy. “But don’t you want to do something new? A fresh start? No more mafia, no more torture, no more getting shot?”

I think about Caterina. About her fierce protectiveness, her possessive love. About the way she looks at me like I’m the center of her universe. About the life, we were about to start together, away from Boston, away from the violence.

“I want to be with Caterina,” I say simply.

Candice’s face slowly transforms, the sulky expression melting away to reveal a smile that grows wider and wider until it’s almost unsettling.

She steps closer to me. “You know it won’t be easy, right? You might never fully recover. You’ll be starting with three bullet holes in your chest.”

“I don’t care,” I say. “Send me back.”

“And what about Connor?” she asks, her head tilting curiously. “The man who shot you? Who tried to kill your beloved Caterina? Will you still ask her to spare him?”

I snarl, my newly functional hands balling into fists. “Of course I will.”

Candice laughs, the sound echoing unnaturally in the white void. “From a certain point of view, he kind of seems like a bum. I mean, he shows up after months of silence just to shoot you? Some friend.”

“What the fuck? No, he just wanted to help me,” I protest, running my hands through my hair in frustration. “He didn’t know I’d jump in front of her.”

She sighs dramatically, shoulders slumping. “People like you. Always so loyal, even to people who almost kill you.”

“Fine,” she says with a dismissive wave. Suddenly, two doors materialize in the whiteness, one red, one green. They stand independently, frames and all, with nothing behind or around them.

She gestures toward the red door. “The red door will take you back home, where you will live the rest of whatever life you have left with Caterina.” Her lips curl into a cruel smile. “Your life span could be short, though.” She taps her chest where the bullet holes would be on mine. “Three bullets through vital organs tends to do that.”

Her smirk grows evil as she points to the green door. “The green door is the ultimate harem. Any kind of woman a man could dream…”

Before she can finish, I stride toward the red door and yank it open.

“Stop fucking around,” I growl, stepping through without hesitation.

Behind me, I hear her sigh. “True love is so boring.” As I look back, I see a surprisingly warm smile on Candice’s face.

“Next time you die, I won’t give you this chance again.” She says simply.

“Please don’t,” I say as I walk through the door.

The white void dissolves, replaced by searing pain. Beeping machines. The smell of antiseptic. Voices shouting medical jargon I don’t understand.

“We’ve got a pulse!” someone yells. “BP rising!”

My chest burns like someone poured molten lava into it. I try to scream but can’t. Something’s in my throat.

Through the haze of agony, I hear her voice.

“Adam? Adam, baby, can you hear me?”

Caterina. She sounds wrecked, her usual composure completely shattered. I try to open my eyes, but they’re so heavy.

“He’s stabilizing,” another voice says. “It’s a miracle.”

I manage to crack my eyelids open just enough to see her. Caterina’s face hovers above mine, hair disheveled. I’ve never seen her look so undone, so vulnerable.

She grips my hand like it’s a lifeline. “You came back to me,” she whispers.

I try to nod, but the tube down my throat makes it impossible. Instead, I squeeze her hand weakly. It’s enough.

Despite just coming, too, darkness quickly takes over again.

‘Fuck don’t tell me I’m dying already?’

…..

…..

*****

The hum of the jet engines is oddly soothing as we cruise at 40,000 feet. I shift slightly, trying to find a comfortable position that doesn’t make me start coughing again. The leather seat is luxurious, but my body still finds ways to complain.

“You need anything?” Caterina asks, her fingers threading through my hair. She hasn’t stopped touching me since we boarded, little reassurances that I’m still here, still alive.

“I’m good,” I say, though my chest tightens a bit as I speak. The doctors said the scar tissue in my lungs would eventually stop being so sensitive, but eight months later and, I still sound like I’ve got a two-pack-a-day habit whenever I laugh too hard.

Caterina studies my face with that intense look she gets whenever she thinks I might be hiding pain from her. “You’re sure? I can have them bring more pillows.”

I can’t help but smile. “Seriously, I’m fine.” I take her hand, running my thumb over her knuckles. “Just excited to finally get there.”

The Maldives. Our dream destination that got derailed by Connor’s bullets and months of surgeries, physical therapy, and recovery. Sometimes, it felt like we’d never make it.

“I still can’t believe you talked me into letting him live,” Caterina murmurs, her eyes darkening at the memory.

Connor. The ghost between us that we rarely discuss. It turned out he never let go of saving me. It took me nearly killing myself by jumping out of bed to finally convince Caterina to drop it. Despite her resistance, she let me gift him some money to take his wives and move to some private beach in the Bahamas.

Connor was very upset with me for choosing to stay with Caterina in the end, and I accept that. I will always love him as my best friend despite how he feels about me. I doubt he’ll ever come near us again.

“He means a lot to me,” I say simply.

Caterina makes that little huffing sound that means she’s dropping the subject for my sake. “The villa has its own private pool,” she says instead, changing topics with practiced ease. “And a direct path to the ocean.”

“Think I can finally learn to swim without hacking up a lung?” I joke, immediately triggering a small coughing fit that makes me wince.

Caterina’s hand is instantly on my back, rubbing gentle circles as I try to breathe through it. When it passes, she hands me a water bottle without comment.

“Sorry,” I mutter, taking a sip.

“Don’t apologize.” Her voice is firm but gentle. “Not ever for that.”

The plane jolts slightly, hitting a pocket of turbulence. I take another sip of water, watching the clouds drift past the window. It’s peaceful up here, far away from the chaos of our old life. I close my eyes, savoring the moment.

Caterina’s phone buzzes. She frowns, pulling it from her pocket and checking the screen. Her eyebrows shoot up.

“It’s your sister?” she says, sounding confused.

I turn to her, equally perplexed. “Jessica? Why isn’t she calling me?”

Caterina shrugs, then answers the call. “Hello, Jessica.” She listens for a moment, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to absolute shock. Her face goes red, eyes bulging.

“What? Claire left WHAT with you?” she exclaims, her voice rising enough that a flight attendant glances our way. “That’s not possible. When did this happen?”

My stomach drops. Claire? What the hell could she have left with Jessica?

Caterina’s knuckles turn white as she grips the phone. “Yes, we’ll turn around right now. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

She hangs up, looking like she’s seen a ghost.

“What’s happening?” I ask, my heart racing. “Is Jessica okay?”

Caterina sighs heavily, then motions for a flight attendant. When the woman approaches, Caterina’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument. “Turn the plane around. We have to go back to Boston. Immediately.”

“Ma’am, we’re already…”

“I own this jet,” Caterina cuts her off. “Turn it around. Now.”

The flight attendant nods quickly and hurries toward the cockpit. I grab Caterina’s arm, forcing her to look at me.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand. “What did Claire leave with Jessica?”

*****

[Two days ago]

[Claire’s POV]

The bartender glances over at me with that pitying look I’ve come to recognize all too well. I must be quite a sight, a drunk and disheveled woman with a baby at the slots at 2 PM on a Tuesday. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand as I balance my cigarette in another.

“Maybe it’s time to call it a day, ma’am,” the bartender suggests, her voice gentle but firm. “Your little one doesn’t look too good.”

I look down at Eve. Her face is flushed, her breathing slightly labored. The choking sound comes again, weaker this time. Guilt crashes over me like a tidal wave.

“She’s fine,” I snap, though I know she’s not. “Just needs a nap.”

The elderly woman at the machine next to me shoots me a disapproving glance. I can read her thoughts clearly. What kind of mother brings an infant to a casino? What kind of mother smokes with a baby in her lap?

I fish another quarter from my pocket, one of my last, and feed it into the machine. The familiar whirring sound fills my ears as the wheels spin. Bar, Seven, Seven. Nothing. Story of my fucking life.

Eve starts to cry, a pitiful mewling sound that barely qualifies as a proper infant wail. She hasn’t been eating well. I can’t afford the good formula anymore, just the cheap stuff that makes her constipated and fussy.

“Last one,” I promise her, digging for another quarter. “Then we’ll go back to the room.”

The cheap motel we’re staying in is hardly fit for a rat, let alone a baby. The wallpaper peels in the corners, and there’s a suspicious stain on the carpet that I try not to think about. But it’s all I can afford now.

Two million dollars. Gone. I blew through it in less than a year, bouncing between Atlantic City, Vegas, and every hole-in-the-wall gambling joint in between. At first, I told myself it was just for fun, just to unwind after everything with Luna. Then, it became about winning back what I’d lost. Then, it was about escaping the crushing reality of my life.

The slots spin again. Nothing.

“Fuck,” I mutter, then immediately feel guilty for cursing in front of Eve. Not that my language is the worst thing I’ve exposed her to.

I didn’t even know I was pregnant when I left Boston. Found out two months later in some clinic in Nevada. Adam’s baby? Keiths Baby? I wasn’t sure. The thought makes my throat tighten with emotions I can’t process, grief, guilt, anger, love.

But when I saw her the day she entered the world I knew. She had Adam’s eyes. I was overjoyed despite not wanting to be a mother.

Eve’s crying grows more insistent. I rock her mechanically, my eyes still fixed on the machine’s spinning wheels.

The slot machine mocks me with another losing spin. I stare at it for a long moment, feeling something inside me finally break. Eve’s whimpering has become a constant background noise that I’ve somehow learned to tune out, and that realization hits me like a slap to the face.

I take one last drag from my cigarette, the smoke burning my lungs, then extinguish it in the nearby ashtray with deliberate finality.

“That’s it,” I whisper, more to myself than to Eve. “We’re done here.”

I gather my meager belongings and stand up, cradling Eve against my chest. Her little body feels too warm against mine, her breathing still labored. The guilt is overwhelming now, impossible to ignore.

I’m a terrible mother. The thought crystallizes with perfect clarity as I walk out of the casino floor. Not just bad, completely unfit. Eve deserves better than me, better than cheap motels and secondhand smoke, and a mother who prioritizes gambling over her health.

Adam’s baby. Adam’s eyes staring back at me every time I look at her face. And suddenly, I know exactly what I need to do.

Back in our dismal motel room, I quickly pack our few belongings. less than eighty dollars left to my name, just enough for bus fare to Boston and maybe a meal or two along the way.

“We’re going to get you help, baby girl,” I promise, my voice breaking. “We’re going to find someone who can take care of you properly.”

Caterina. The name I’ve avoided thinking about for months now forces its way into my consciousness. Adam’s psychotic girlfriend, or wife, or whatever she is now. The woman who wants me dead.

But she loves Adam. And this is Adam’s child.

“She’ll want you,” I whisper to Eve as I change her diaper. “She’ll give you everything I can’t.”

‘I hope.’

I spend the night planning Eve’s fitful sleep, punctuated by whimpers and coughs that twist my heart. By morning, my decision is solid. I’ll go to Boston, find Jessica first, she seemed more reasonable than Caterina. I’ll explain everything, hand over Eve, and then... then I’ll disappear again. For good this time.

*****

[Adam’s POV]

The plane ride back to Boston feels like torture. Every minute stretches into an eternity as my mind races with possibilities. A baby? My baby? It doesn’t seem possible, yet Caterina sits beside me, stone-faced and silent, her knuckles white as she grips the armrest.

The drive from the airport to Jessica’s apartment passes in a blur. Caterina remains quiet, occasionally glancing at me with an expression I can’t quite decipher. When we finally pull up to Jessica’s building, my heart feels like it might burst from my chest.

“Cat,” I say as we stand outside Jessica’s door, my voice barely audible. “You’re not going to...”

As she knocks Caterina gives me an an impatient look and speaks bluntly, “I’m still processing, Adam.”

In her own way, that’s actually huge progress instead of flying off the handle. Before I can respond, the door swings open. Jessica stands there, holding a baby with brown eyes and brown hair.

My world stops.

Those are my eyes staring back at me. My hair. My nose. There’s no question this child is mine.

“Her name is Eve,” Jessica says, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “She’s about two months old. Claire dropped her off yesterday and disappeared.”

Eve makes a small cooing sound, her tiny fingers reaching toward me as if she somehow knows who I am. Something in my chest cracks open.

“Can I...” I extend my arms hesitantly.

Jessica nods, carefully transferring Eve into my arms. She feels impossibly small, impossibly fragile. I adjust my hold, terrified I might hurt her with my mostly healed hands.

“Hey there,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I’m your dad.”

Eve looks up at me with wide, curious eyes, and suddenly, I’m crying, tears streaming down my face without shame or restraint.

“She’s been sick,” Jessica explains, ushering us inside. “Claire wasn’t taking care of her properly. I took her to a pediatrician this morning. Respiratory infection, but they’ve given her antibiotics.”

I barely hear her, lost in my daughter’s gaze. When I finally look up, I find Caterina watching us, her expression unreadable.

“Cat?” I say softly.

Caterina steps forward, her face a carefully controlled mask. For a moment, I fear the worst, that jealousy or anger will take over. But then she reaches out, her finger gently stroking Eve’s cheek.

“She has your eyes,” Caterina says quietly. “Exactly your eyes.”

Eve makes a gurgling sound, her tiny hand reaching up to grab Caterina’s finger. Something shifts in Caterina’s expression. The same eyes she used to look at me.

“Is she okay?” Caterina asks Jessica, her voice suddenly all business. “What does she need?”

Jessica looks slightly taken aback by Caterina’s practical tone. “The doctor said she should recover with the medication, but she needs proper care, good formula, regular check-ups.”

I pull Eve closer. “We can do that,” I say, looking directly at Caterina. “Right?”

For a long moment, Caterina says nothing, just studies Eve’s face with an intensity that makes me nervous. Then she meets my gaze.

“Of course we can,” she says simply. “She’s yours, which means she’s ours.”

Relief floods through me so powerfully I have to sit down on Jessica’s couch. Eve squirms in my arms, making little fussing noises.

“She probably needs to be fed,” Jessica says, heading toward her kitchen. “I got some of the formula the doctor recommended.”

As Jessica bustles around preparing a bottle, I look up at Caterina. She’s still standing, watching Eve with that same unreadable expression.

“Are you really okay with this?” I ask quietly.

Caterina sits beside me, her shoulder pressing against mine. “I won’t pretend I’m thrilled about Claire being back in the picture, even briefly,” she admits. “But this child is innocent. We will make her apart of our family.”

She reaches out, gently touching Eve’s tiny fingers. “Besides,” she adds with a slight smile, “Imaging you as a Dad is sexy.”

I chuckle with a blush.

Jessica returns with a bottle, showing me how to hold it properly for Eve. As my daughter eagerly drinks, making little satisfied noises, I feel something settle inside me, a peace I didn’t know I was missing.

“Claire left a note,” Jessica says hesitantly, pulling a crumpled paper from her pocket.

I take the note with my free hand, trying to keep Eve steady in my other arm. The paper is wrinkled and smudged, covered in what looks like handwriting but might as well be ancient hieroglyphics for all I can make sense of it.

I stare at the note, trying to read it. I shake my head as I give up, “What’s it say?”

Jessica leans over my shoulder and squints at the paper. “No, it’s not just you. I have no idea what it says. Claire was really drunk when she dropped the baby off.”

Caterina grabs the note from my hand with an impatient sigh. “For Christ’s sake,” she mutters, holding it up to the light and turning it different angles.

She snorts and shakes her head. “It’s fucking illegible. The only word I can clearly make out is ‘DILF.’”

“What the fuck?”

A/N: I just want to thank everyone who stuck with story this long. It has been a wild ride, I feel as though I expirmented a lot with this story and ultimatly achieved what I set out to do. I am very proud of this work. Without you readers constantly giving me attention I would wilt up like a flower with no sun. You are all everything to me. Thank you.

PS, Check out my new story

My Girlfriend Doesn’t Remember Me So I Guess I’ll Date This Slime: A Reverse World Story

Similar vibes, no torture (I don't think.) With A yandere Slime female lead.