OK faithful readers-here is the final part of the epilogue. Thank you all for patiently waiting for me to finish this story—I knows it's been a while. I want to give a very warmhearted thank you to my good friend and Co-Author Debbie Hannon for all your help, ideas, and encouragement—I would have never finished this story without you!

I do not own FSOG.

Epilogue Part 3 of 3.

Chapter 12

CPOV

I turn off the TV and walk into my office, grab a bottle of bourbon, sit behind my desk, staring off into space and start drinking right from the bottle until I pass out on the couch.

Morning finds me back in my bed, still dressed in the same clothes from yesterday. Reynolds must have found me passed out in my office again and hauled me back in here.

I stumble into the kitchen and pour a cup of coffee; my new housekeeper keeps a fresh pot available all day so it's ready whenever I drag myself out of bed.

I check my phone and see that I have several missed calls and text messages-several are from the same number, but whoever it is never leaves a message. I send the number to Welch and ask him to find out who it is.

There are also a few missed calls from my dad and a few from Flynn—I contemplate calling Flynn, but decide to wait until later, and I am too spineless to call my dad.

Welch calls back midafternoon and tells me the number is from the SPD—it's the payphone in the holding cell area that the detainees use.

It must be Elena. Fuck her if she thinks I am going to help her out. She can rot in jail for all I care.

Reynolds comes in to check on me and give me what little information he and Welch have been able to gather.

It appears that last week the SPD got a tip that Elena had photos and videos of her with under age boys, and that she also had a dungeon in her basement where she tortured them before forcing them the perform sexual acts with her. The SPD immediately contacted the FBI, who monitored her movements for several days, even following her to a few of the BDSM clubs in the area. After presenting all the information to a judge, the FBI managed to get a warrant to search her house and salons, where they found hundreds of pictures and several thumb drives with pictures and videos of her with what appears to be underage victims. They are in the process of identifying the victims so they can get them to come forward and file charges. She is being held without bail, and is currently trying to find an attorney to take her case. All of her assets have been frozen so she has no means to retain an attorney, and will probably be assigned a public defender. Because of the nature of her crimes, she was considered a flight risk and was denied bail, and is being held in a cell by herself, under 24 hour watch, and then will be remanded to the King County Correctional Center in the next few days where she will be housed in solitary confinement for her protection until her trial.

Someone needs to save the taxpayers a bunch of money and shiv her in the shower I think to myself.

I sit there, pondering what, if anything I can about the photos and videos—wondering what is going to happen when they come out. My entire family will be affected, let alone the damage it will do to GEH.

If Taylor was here, he would handle this for me—he would know how to get the photos and videos and destroy them, but that ship has sailed. My only other resource is Welch—I know he has contacts at SPD, but I don't know if they would be willing to destroy evidence in a high profile case like this. I sit there, stewing for a while, and then decide to call him tomorrow morning and ask him to come over to the house—it's not a conversation I want to have over the phone.

At 6:00 my housekeeper, Mrs. Michaels, comes into my office and tells me that dinner is ready, and asks if I want it in my office or in the kitchen. I thank her and tell her to leave it in the warmer and I will get it later. She nods her head and walks out, leaving for the day-she has a teen aged daughter at home so she doesn't live here full time.

About 7:30 I wander into the kitchen and grab my dinner along with a bottle of wine and sit at the breakfast bar trying to eat. Mrs. Michaels is a good cook, not as good as Gail, but right now I just don't have much of an appetite. I manage to get most of my dinner down, and as I am setting my plate in the sink my phone rings and I see that it's my dad again. I forgot to call him back earlier… I know he will want to discuss Elena's arrest with me but I just can't talk about it right now so I ignore it and walk out on back porch and stare at the view. Ana loved sitting out her—if she wasn't in her office working she would grab a cup of tea and a book and come sit out here and read…she said it was her sanctuary. Sitting here now, I can understand why.

As I am sitting there lost in thought, Reynolds comes in "Sir, there's something you need to see, and walks into the media room and turns on the TV.

I sit there in total shock, listening and watching as TMZ splatters my personal life all over the big screen.

Where the fuck did they get this information? They fucking know everything—the affair, the pregnancy, Ana leaving me…WTF? How the fuck did they get the pictures and videos? OMG that's the video from the Fairmont! How the fuck did they get that? Welch said he erased it!

And where did they get the pictures of us from the hotels in Detroit and Chicago? Or the ones of us in the parking garage at GEH?

WTF? Was Ana having me followed?

I grab my phone and call Welch back, screaming at him to do something, and then call my attorney and demand that he have the show shut down.

"Mr. Grey, there is nothing I can do right now. If we had known about it ahead of time, then I would have been able to file an injunction to have it stopped, but right now, by the time I get anything filed, the show will be over. I will get everything going now so that you can go after them for damages after the fact, but there is no way I can shut down the broadcast tonight."

"FUCK! I scream as I throw my phone against the wall.

This is cannot be happening, but it is… my fifty shades of fuckedupness is being aired on live TV in all its glory for the entire world to see.

There will be no coming back from this.

When I turn back and look at the TV I see 3 of my former submissives, and they are eagerly discussing in great detail their BDSM contracts and sexual experiences with me, leaving nothing out.

Those stupid bitches. I am going to sue their asses for violating their NDAs and then ruin their families. Those blackmail photos I have will be sent to their families and employers. I cannot believe they are sitting there, spilling their guts when they know what I will do to them. Whatever money they are getting from this show will soon be mine, plus everything else I will get from them for the rest of their lives. Did they seriously not think I wouldn't go after them?

The commercial break is over and I wonder what could possibly be next, but there was no way in hell I was prepared for what next.

I sit there in total disbelief, listening to Camile as she spins a tale of complete and utter bullshit about our relationship. Her lies are piling higher and higher with every word that comes out of her mouth.

The fucking commentator just keeps adding more fuel with her asinine questions about our relationship, too.

For the millionth time I asked myself what the fuck was I thinking getting involved with Camile.

How could you be so stupid, Grey?

I could feel the rage burning inside. I rub my chest, wondering if this is what a heart attack feels like...but I couldn't be so lucky to keel over dead right now.

I will pay for my stupidity and selfish behavior for the rest of my life, as I so rightly deserve.

I swear to God,if that bitch was front of me I would have my hands around her throat, choking the fucking life out of her.

Then, to my surprise, I listen as the TMZ host rips her story to shreds proving that she was lying about everything. When she read the statement from her college roommate, spelling out Camile's plan to get her claws into me and my bank account I could no longer contain myself... I screamed as loud as I could, and Reynolds came running into the room with his gun drawn.

I grab his phone and call my attorney back and tell him to get the paperwork going to file charges against those 4 whores for breaking their NDAs.

He told me he could get the paperwork going tonight but until he had their NDAs he could not file anything or have them served. He had contacts in LA who could get them served tomorrow morning, if they could be located.

I told him I would get the NDAs to him tonight, and then hung up—I was so pissed off that I could not breathe. I hollered at Reynolds to get the car and take me to Escala.

We are headed down the driveway and as we approached the gate I could see the paps have already started to gather. Reynolds honked the horn at them as Ryan opened the gate so we could drive out.

Fucking parasites. I mumble to myself.

On the drive over, I sat in the back, stewing about this disaster, and I realized that I had been played.

That fucking bitch played me like a fiddle. This was nothing more than a con job, and I was the mark.

My wife and son are dead because I let some scheming slut lead me around by my dick. She will regret the day she was born when I get done with her.

We pull into Escala and the paps have gathered there too. Reynolds had to slow down, honking at them to move before he could drive through them as they pounded on the hood and windows.

"Call the police and have these assholes arrested as well at the ones at the house!" I bark at Reynolds.

"Sir, Ryan already called and they are in the process of removing them from the house and I will call SPD as soon as you are safe inside here."

Reynolds drops me at the elevator and goes to park the car. I punch in the code for the penthouse and can feel the anxiety building as I ride up in silence. I close my eyes and smile as all the good times Ana and I had in the elevator come flashing back, but as soon as I step out, the memory of Camile sucking me off that day Ana saw us slaps me in the face, and brings me back to the present, and I feel sick.

I storm into my office; flip on the light and when I open the safe I feel my stomach churn when I realize that everything is missing…

WHAT THE FUCK

I reach into the back of the safe where all the files and NDAs were, and pull out the few pieces of paper that are still there—Camile's NDA is all that remains. All the rest are gone, along with the files and blackmail photos I had on the 15…I feel the blood start to drain from my face as I realize what this means.

I scream at the top of my lungs, and a minute later Reynolds comes running in

"Sir, what's wrong? Are you OK?"

I glare at him, too mad to speak and point to the safe. Finally, after a minute I am able to speak "Who the fuck has been in here? " I scream at him. He looks at me, not sure what I am talking about "All the files and NDAs are gone. Who the fuck took them? Ana and I and Taylor are the only ones who had the combination to the safe."

"Sir, I have no idea. When is the last time you were in the safe?"

"I put Ms. Davis' NDA in there the week Ana was in New York. That was the last time I was in there and everything was still there. Who the fuck has been in here since then?" I demand.

"Sir I will review the CCTV tapes right now and we can see who it was. Give me a little while to check them out" and he walks out of my office and back to the security office.

"Fuck" I mutter to myself. If I can't find the NDAs or the files I am screwed. I sit on my couch with my head in my hands, asking myself the same question "Why the fuck did I do this?"

An hour later Reynolds comes back into my office with a grim look on his face.

"Sir, I hate to tell you this but there is nothing on the CCTV recordings showing anyone coming in here. I went all the way back to the week when Mrs. Grey was in New York, and there is video of you getting into the safe as you said, but from that day until just now there is no recording of anyone else coming in here. I saw the footage of when Mrs. Grey was here they day you left for Chicago, but Mrs. Grey never came in here that day. After you and Ms. Davis went into the bedroom, Mrs. Grey went into the security room and it looks like she downloaded something onto a thumb drive, but she left immediately after she was done. Ms. Davis never set foot in your office the entire time she was living here either. Whoever got into the safe must have erased the footage after they were done. I checked with Escala Security to get copies of the parking garage CCTV, but it's deleted every 7 days, so we won't be able to see who has come and gone. It is possible that the recordings were deleted remotely—they can be deleted from the security offices at GEH or from the house. The morning Mrs. Grey left, all the recordings from the house had been deleted, so it's very possible she erased the Escala recordings at the same time. Sawyer was gone for quite a while the morning she left so she had plenty of time to do it.

I remember Ana threatening me in her letter that she would leak pictures and videos if I refused to sign the divorce and custody relinquishment papers and I wonder if she copied all the footage of us from Escala. I cringe, thinking about how she must have felt watching it if she did. She saw the live show, so I can't imagine that she would torture herself by watching any more.

I faxed over the copy of Camile's NDA to my lawyer and then called him and told him what was going on.

He explained to me exactly what I feared—that without the NDAs, everyone is free to talk to anyone about anything, and as long as they don't lie about anything there is nothing I can legally do. If the other NDAs can't be recovered, the only one I can go after is Camile, and I told him to take her down with a vengeance. He said he will have her served tomorrow morning, and that he has already been in touch with a colleague who will handle it. He will have the papers filed as soon as the courts open, and will personally serve her at the hotel where she is staying.

Because Ana and I were still married, and her name was on the deed to Escala, it was her legal residence, and all possessions in the home were equally hers due to us not having a Pre-nup. Since divorce papers had not been filed yet, she didn't break any laws by taking them with her. Throw in the fact that I have no proof that she even took them; I have no recourse against anyone except Camile.

The hits just keep on coming….

Welch POV

I am taking my Spaghetti-O's out of the microwave when my phone rings and I see that it's the boss.

"Welch, I need a background check on a Camile Davis. She's an attorney for Peterson Inc. I want it ASAP" and then he hangs up.

Well, I guess lunch will have to wait a few minutes. I plug in what little information he just gave me, and few minutes later I email him what came back. He didn't ask for a detailed check, so I just ran my standard background check like I did on all of his potential subs. If he wants more information I am sure he will let me know.

I am so glad he got out of that BDSM shit—I used to spend more time checking out those whores and keeping track of them than anything else here at GEH. Since he met Mrs. Grey, my job has become so much easier and pleasant…almost normal! I chuckle to myself….there was nothing easy or normal about working for Grey before she came along—that's for sure.

Mrs. Grey knows I financially support my mother, and when my mom had a heart attack last year, Mrs. Grey made sure my mom got the best cardiologist in the country, and then she not only paid all of her medical bills, but she paid for all the in-home care until my mom was fully recovered. She is the kindest, most caring person I have met. Grey is a lucky man.

It's almost 8:00 and I am waiting for the last episode of Game of Thrones to come on when my phone rings and I see that it's the boss again. Now What? I mumble to myself. He really is 24/7...

"Welch I need you to hack the security cameras at the Fairmont in the restaurant and the bar and erase all the footage of me that you can find. Do it now, and call me when you are done" and then he hangs up.

What the fuck has he done now? I mutter to myself.

5 minutes later I am shocked at what I see. It's the woman from the background check I did earlier.

How could he do that to Ana? God, he's a piece of shit.

These are the times when I ask myself why I stay working for him. This sickens me. I sit there; staring at the footage for a few seconds, then transfer it to a thumb drive before deleting it from the server at the hotel.

A few weeks go by and all is quiet so I am hoping that the Fairmont was a just one night stand. It still pisses me of that he did it, but hopefully it won't happen again.

Andrea called earlier and is having problems with her computer so I am headed up there to check it out. The elevator doors open to let me in, and standing in the elevator is the woman from the bar.

Holy fuck—what is she doing here?

I see the light for the 20th floor is lit up, so she must be headed up to see the boss.

This isn't good.

I get Andrea's computer fixed and head back down to my office and turn on the CCTV feed from his office and sit there in total disbelief watching as he bends her over his desk and fucks her brains out.

I cannot believe that asshole. I feel my face getting red and my blood is boiling. I hope Mrs. Grey finds out about this and takes him for everything she can.

I'll wait until they're done and then add this video to the collection…I have a bad feeling that there will be more to come…

8 weeks later

My private cell beeps, letting me know that I have a text message. Only 2 people have this number-one is my mom and the other is my brother. Since my mom doesn't know how to text, I know it's my brother.

"Call me" the message reads.

"10 minutes" I text back

I head out for lunch, and walk to a deli down the street and call my brother from the pay phone there.

"What's up?" I ask

"I have a client who needs dirt on her cheating husband. " He pauses before saying "He's your boss. "

"Come over tonight." I hang up, a small smile of satisfaction on my lips…

Erica POV

After the arrest of Elena Lincoln and the TMZ show, I decided to follow up on the truck driver who killed Ana. I found out that he was arrested and charged involuntary manslaughter and took a plea deal, and was sentenced to one year in prison. It's sad, but that is an average sentence for involuntary manslaughter in the state of Washington.

I looked into the company for which he worked, and after sending an investigator ask around, I discovered that several of their drivers were forced to drive trucks which failed routine safety inspections because the company didn't want pay to repair the vehicles. That really pissed me off, so I decided to take a trip to Coyote Ridge Prison in Connell, Washington to talk to the driver and ask if this was the case with his truck.

Our visit was very enlightening… he informed me that the drivers were constantly threatened with their jobs if they failed their truck for any safety related issues during their daily walk around inspections. It was either drive or be fired, and most people had families to feed and bills to pay, so they didn't dare check anything off on the inspection list that would red tag the vehicle. He told me that his truck was in need of new tires, a brake job, and the air lines leaked. Doing the necessary repairs would have cost thousands of dollars and the boss was too cheap to pay for the work. The driver, like all the other drivers, had a family to feed and bills to pay, so he had no choice but to get behind the wheel that fateful day. When the light turned yellow, he knew his brakes would not stop him in time, so he had no choice but to run the light.

He told me if a safety inspection was done on his truck after the accident all of these issues would have been discovered. I asked him if he would be willing to sign an affidavit attesting to this, and he readily agreed. He still lives with the guilt of causing Ana's death, and would do anything to prevent it from happening to someone else.

I contacted Carrick, who had lawyers on staff who specialized in wrongful death accidents, and we began researching the company. Carrick jumped at the chance to help—he was willing to do anything to get any justice for Ana. We talked to other drivers and were able to get sworn affidavits from most of them, backing up exactly what the driver told us. When we had enough proof, we presented it to a judge and he signed off on a subpoena, and we requested all of their maintenance records going back 10 years. What we found was shocking. None of the trucks in the fleet had regular, scheduled maintenance performed on them, daily inspection forms could not be located, and invoices for tires or required annual safety inspections were nonexistent. We brought in a 3rd party company and had them inspect the entire fleet, and almost every truck in the fleet failed for one or several safety issues. We knew we had a case, and a week later, after speaking with Ray Steele and getting his approval, we filed a 100 million dollar wrongful death lawsuit on behalf of Anastasia Grey. The CEO contacted us the day after he was served, and he and his lawyer met us to discuss the lawsuit a few days later. When we showed them what we had, including the stack of sworn affidavits, they turned a lighter shade of pale and asked what it would take to keep this from going to court.

After hashing it out with them, and threatening them with criminal charges, they agreed to quietly settle out of court for 25 million. We also demanded that they hire a 3rd party company to do the inspections and maintenance on all vehicles, and that the 3rd party was to report directly to us, providing us quarterly reports and summaries on all work completed on all vehicles; we could and would conduct audits any time we wanted, without advance notice.

Ray Steele is a simple man—money and material possessions mean nothing to him, so when we contacted him with the news of the settlement and asked what to do with the money, he told us to give it all to charity. We donated to as many charities in Washington State as we could, all in Ana's and Baby Raymond's name. Ray kept not a penny.

Camile POV 2 months after the TMZ show.

I started feeling sick a few weeks ago and finally broke down and went to the doctor, and now I am staring at the lab test results in complete and total shock.

"Positive."

How the fuck did this happen? What the hell am I going to do now?

I need to tell him, but how? The asshole served me with a restraining order when he kicked me out of his apartment so I can't contact him. I suppose I could have my attorney contact his attorney so we could meet but I would prefer to deliver this news in person just so I could see the look on that bastard's smug face.
This is what he gets for suing me and freezing my bank accounts. Luckily my attorney was able to get my accounts unfrozen except for the money I received from TMZ, so I have at least have some means to support myself for a while.

2 days later I am standing in line at the grocery store, and look at over and see his picture on the front of the Seattle Nooz. Apparently somehow they found out that he admitted himself to a private treatment facility in Northern California a month ago for treatment of depression.

I'm sure the very public outing of all of his dirty laundry didn't help either, especially when his name was linked to that pedophile bitch.

I google the place and see that the monthly cost is more than the average person makes in a year.

It figures.

A place for the ultra-wealthy to go and be coddled like babies because they can't cope with stress and depression like poor people have to.
I wake up the next day and call to find out how visitation works, and basically if a patient is there voluntarily, there is no set visitation schedule; it's up to the patient if he or she wants to see visitors. Each patient provides a list of visitors he or she is willing to see, and as long as the person is on the list they will allowed to visit.

With this information I come up with a plan.

A week later I find myself pulling up to the security gate at the facility and smile at the guard "Hi. I'm Mia Grey and I'm here to see my brother Christian Grey."

I googled his sister to see what she looked like, and then found a wig and made myself up to look just like her, and I hand the guard my new Mia Grey Washington State driver's license, which cost me $1000 after finding someone at the DMV willing to make a little cash on the side.
The guard looks at my driver's license, checks his computer and sees my name and photograph as an approved visitor, and then opens the gate and tells me to follow the driveway around to the visitors lot and someone would be waiting to escort me to the visitors area.
I pull in the parking lot and see the escort waiting for me in a blue golf cart. I again show my driver's license and he takes me to a beautiful, secluded private visitor's area and tells me Mr. Grey will be out shortly.
A few minutes later I see him walking through the courtyard and feel my pulse start to quicken. I keep my sunglasses on any head down because I don't want him to recognize me before he gets here.

"Mia!" I hear him exclaim as he approaches the table and holds out his arms to hug me.

I look up at him, take off my glasses and wig "Hello Christian...long time, no see" I say, sarcastically.

His eyes turn a dark grey, almost black before he snarls at me "What the fuck are you doing here? I never want to see you again, you fucking whore. You're in violation of your restraining order and I'm going to have your whore ass thrown in jail!" He screams at me and starts to walk away.

"The restraining order is not valid outside Washington State, and you might want to sit down because I have some news that you are going to want to hear."

"What could you possibly have to say that I would give a shit about hearing?"

I point to the chair, inviting him to sit "Sit down and I'll tell you."

He glares at me and then begrudgingly takes a seat across from me, shooting daggers through me the entire time. "What? You have 1 minute before I call security and have you arrested."

I take a minute to compose myself before looking him right in the eyes before saying

"I'm HIV positive."

Minutes pass, and he says nothing.

I sit here watching emotions play across Christian's face, and as I watch him, I wonder if he really is mentally unbalanced.

The next thing, I hear a horrific scream, and he is flying through the air, landing on top of me with such force the chair collapses under our combined weight.

I feel his hands wrapped tightly around my throat and he is screaming "you fucking bitch, I am going to kill you!" over and over while choking me and slamming my head against the floor. I can't breathe. I can't see. I am a rag doll to this man. He is squeezing my throat harder and harder, and I feel like am going to die. I feel myself losing consciousness, everything is getting black. I try to speak, but he just squeezes harder and continues screaming that he is going to kill me.

I feel someone trying to pull him off me, and I am finally able to breathe a little. There are doctors, nurses, and orderlies everywhere pulling him off me and trying to restrain him. They managed to pry his fingers from around my throat, and then they start asking me questions, but I can't answer.

My eyes are open and someone is shining a light in my eyes…I hear someone say something about a concussion and broken blood vessels in my eyes. Oh my god, my head hurts. I start coughing and try to sit up but they push me back down, telling me to calm down and try to take deep breaths. I can still hear Christian struggling and fighting with the orderlies and screaming that he is going to kill me, and I hear someone shout "give him 50 mg of Thorazine now!"

A few minutes later it's quiet I can no longer hear him screaming, but I see three big orderlies strap him on a gurney and wheel him down the hallway and into a small room.

A few minutes later an ambulance pulls up and they place me on a gurney and load me into the back.

As the ambulance pulls away, I think to myself Fuck, this didn't go as planned.

CPOV.

I feel my blood freeze in my veins.

Holy Mother of Fuck!

HIV? WTF! HOW?!

My life suddenly flashes before my eyes—Ella, the pimp, Grace, Elena, Ana-mostly flashes of Ana.

I saw her as she fell into my office; when she said yes to the first date, and then when she left me after the belt incident. I saw her forgive me, and give me a second chance. I saw her when she said yes to marrying me. I saw her when she told me she was pregnant— I saw the fear on her beautiful face when she told me. I then saw the pain and anguish on her face as she watched us that day at Escala. And then I saw her lying so cold and still in her casket- the worst memory that I will ever have.

Ana and my son are dead, and it's this fucking cunt's fault. She deliberately set out to destroy me, and she deserves to die!" and I lunge at her, wrapping my hands around her throat, squeezing as tight as I can as we hit the ground.

I wake up, confused and disoriented in an unfamiliar room. I try to move, but my arms are secured to the bed with leather restraints. I look around the room and see my dad and Flynn looking at me, concern etched on their faces.

"Dad, why are you here? What's going on?"

Kate POV 1 year later

Luke and I drive into the cemetery and stop and park by a large shady oak tree. I open the door and step out, and then reach into the back seat for the items we brought with us.

Luke takes my hand and we slowly walk to Ana's grave, and I can feel the tears start to form in my eyes.

We stop and look down at the headstone Ray had placed. He called us a month after the funeral to tell us it had been set, but I haven't been able to come see it until now.

Anastasia Rose Steele Grey
September 10th, 1994 – August 29th, 2019
Cherished daughter, Devoted wife, Loving mother

Raymond Kayden Steel

August 29th, 2019
Unfinished Life

The tears rolled unabashed down my face as well as Luke's.
I knelt down and placed an arrangement of wildflowers on one side of the headstone for Ana and a Snoopy Fishing Pole on the other side for my Godson.
Ana was not a pretentious person, and preferred the simple beauty of wildflowers over a fancy arrangement, and I knew Ray was looking forward to the first fishing trip with his Grandson...the fishing pole seemed so fitting.

I sat there sobbing, and after a few minutes I feet Luke kneel beside be, putting his strong arms around me and pulling me into his chest, calming me enough so I could speak.
'Oh Ana. I can't believe it's been a year since we said goodbye to you. I'm sorry I haven't been back sooner, but you have been and are still in my thoughts daily. I've been several times to see your dad, but I could never bring myself to come here, and I'm so sorry.
I miss you so much, and every day I miss you more."

I take a deep breath and continue "I have some great news for you. Luke and I are getting married. He proposed last weekend, but we haven't told anyone yet...we felt like we had to tell you first." I start sobbing again and can no longer go on, so we just sit there for a while longer, holding each other.
After a while we stand up and I reach over and gently place my fingers on Ana's name, telling her I love her and promise to come back soon.
Luke leads me back to the car and we leave and drive over to Ray's house to share our news with him.

Ray was ecstatic when we told him, and hugged us both at the same time, and when Luke asked him to be his best man, Ray broke down in tears and happily accepted.

4 months later we had a very small, private ceremony on a beach in Greece with only Ray, my parents and my brother Ethan in attendance. I did not have a maid of honor, as Ana was the only one I would have ever want standing next to me, but having Ray standing up with us made it feel like Ana was with us too.

After dinner that night, Ray handed us a card and told us not to open it until the next day after he left. He flew out early the following morning to England-he said he was going to spend some time traveling and visit all the places Ana had talked about her entire life.

After he left, we opened the card and had the surprise of our life...inside there was a check for $2 million dollars.

Inside the card he had written "Kate and Luke please consider this a gift from Ana. She would want you to enjoy every minute of your lives to the fullest. Love each other with all your hearts, and never let each other go."

All our love,

Ray, Ana, and Raymond

Carrick POV 2 years later

It's a rare, non-rainy, sunny summer day here in Seattle, and if it weren't for the circumstances that brought me here today I would be enjoying the weather so much more.

Grace, Elliot, Mia and I are standing at the back of Christian's boat, The Grace, in very somber moods. Mac has brought us out a few miles off the coast so we could spread Christian's ashes at sea.

Reverend Walsh is with us, delivering a parting prayer as I open the urn and slowly release Christian's ashes into the calm waters. Elliot, Mia, and Grace each toss in a red rose in the wake as they say a final goodbye to their brother and son. As I stand there, holding Grace while Elliot holds Mia, a small school of dolphins begins to follow us, jumping out of the water, as if on cue. It lightened the mood a little bit as we stood there watching with silent tears streaming down our faces.

I nod at Mac and he starts to turn the boat back to take us back to the harbor.

On the way in, I think back with sadness, sorrow, and guilt to what brought us here. Grace and I blame ourselves for Christian's mistakes and his downfall...maybe if we paid more attention to him when he was growing up instead of focusing on our careers, Elena would have never gotten her claws into him and introduced him into that lifestyle. Maybe he would have had a few normal relationships with women instead of the contractual ones he had prior to meeting Ana.

After Elena's arrest, everything came out when the pictures of Christian were discovered. I was sickened with what I saw...Christian as a young teenager being beaten, tied up and whipped in various positions, and then him as an adult, doing the same things to other women.
A friend of mine at the DA's office was able to get ahold of the pictures of Christian when he was a minor, but somehow the ones of him as an adult were leaked to the press, confirming what was said on the TMZ show. Shortly after the pictures were leaked, Christian was linked to Elena as a silent partner in her Salons, and even though he severed all ties with her after his and Ana's engagement, the tabloids had a field day when they learned of his connection to her, and they ran with it, portraying him as a pedophile too, destroying his reputation, as well as Grace's reputation as a pediatrician.

Grace was losing patients left and right and after a few weeks the hospital asked her to step down after several parents complained, saying they didn't trust her or have faith in her abilities as a caretaker of their children when her own son was a sadistic pedophile.

It never came out that Christian was one of Elena's victims, but in hindsight I think it would have been beneficial to him if it had.

Grace resigned from all the charities she sat on, and even the charity we founded, Coping Together, was not able to survive the onslaught brought on by the tabloids.
.

It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. After Grace stepped down at the hospital, Mia couldn't handle the paps following her everywhere, tormenting her nonstop, and those who she thought were her friends abandoned her, so she packed up and moved back to Paris, where she is working as a sous-chef in a restaurant for the chef who trained her while she was in culinary school years a few years ago.

Elliot's business started suffering as well, and he closed up shop a year ago and moved to a small town in Northern Montana and is living a quiet life, working on a large ranch as a handyman. He changed his last name to Trevelyan to avoid anyone connecting him to his brother.

I decided to retire as well, and Grace and I sold our home in Bellevue and bought a small home in Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina. Since we don't need the money, Grace travels to Wilmington twice a week and volunteers at a free clinic, and I donate my time at a free legal clinic there as well. Its theraputical for us to help others, since we both feel that we failed with Christian.

I remember the day Ros called me, asking for help. GEH was taking a serious hit because of the all of the negative press and she was worried that it wouldn't survive. She said
nobody wanted to do business with GEH anymore; Christian was being called everything from a pedophile to a rapist to a sadist, and everything in between.

She had tried contacting Christian multiple times but had no luck. After she called me I went to see him and was shocked by his appearance. He had lost weight, his eyes were sunken in, and he looked and smelled like he hadn't bathed in several days.
Reynolds said all he did was spend the day in his office, staring at the picture of Ana and clutching her pillow from their bed. He stopped meeting with Flynn on a regular basis after the photos were released and he was branded a pedophile, and started pulling away from reality, wallowing in guilt and self-deprecation.
I called Flynn and told him what was going on and asked him to meet with me so we could convince Christian to enter a treatment center ASAP.
After speaking with Christian a few times, he agreed to sign GEH over to Ros in an attempt to save the company, and Flynn found a private facility in Northern California that specialized in guilt induced trauma. Christian agreed to voluntarily enter the facility, so the day we left GEH we went directly to the airport, and Flynn and I flew with him on the GEH jet one last time and accompanied him to the center.

Flynn met with the therapist who would be working strictly one on one with Christian, and spent the entire day sharing Christian's history—from his time with his birth mother to the day he arrived at the center. He turned over all of his session notes from his entire time with Christian, and told the doctor to please call anytime if he had questions.

We stayed there for 2 days with Christian as he settled in, and were told that we could visit any time. Since Christian was there voluntarily, there was no restriction on visitors, as long as they were approved by Christian.

Christian agreed to have visitors, and submitted a very short list names—Me, Grace, Elliot, Mia, and Flynn.

It was a few weeks after Ana's funeral before Grace finally went over to his house and spoke with him, but Elliot and Mia never spoke to him again-Ana was their sister, and they blamed him solely for her death.

Christian held out hope that they would one day come around, but it never happened.

A week after I got back from California, Erica Castel called me and informed me what she had found out about the truck driver who killed Ana, and asked if would be willing to help with the lawsuit.

I jumped at the chance to get some justice for Ana and my grandson, and I worked closely with her and one of the attorneys in my firm who specialized in wrongful death lawsuits.

I felt a little satisfaction when the law suit was settled, but nothing like the day Erica allowed me in her office when she fired that whore, and I then informed her of her forthcoming demise as a lawyer. I called in a few favors and had that bitch disbarred in record time. I sat in the back of the conference room when she was called before the review panel and received their decision. It was a small victory.

A month after Christian arrived at the center, I received a phone call from his doctor, informing me that Christian had a female visitor claiming to be his sister Mia, and for some reason he snapped and attacked her.

I had spoken to Mia earlier in the day, and I knew she was still in Paris, so I had no idea who this imposter was.

Flynn and I jumped on a flight to California as soon as we could, and when we arrived we went straight to Christian's room, but he was still sedated so we had to wait a while to talk to him.

We were shocked to learn who his visitor was and what she told him.

Christian had blood work done when he arrived, but was not screened for HIV, so his doctor had ordered a test immediately, and 3 days later we were all devastated when the results came back positive.

His doctor told us that there were several promising HIV treatments still in the experimental stage, but Christian shocked us all when he refused to undergo any form treatment…he said this is his punishment for what he did to Ana and his son—he felt that he deserved nothing less.

We argued and plead with him, but he refused to budge on the issue—he actually seemed at peace with himself for the first time since the accident as he accepted his fate.

Grace and I stayed in Northern California for a few weeks, hoping to change his mind, but we had no such luck.

He asked us to leave and not come back, and to stop worrying about him; being our son, we knew we could never do that, but we left and returned to Bellevue.

A month later I received a packet in the mail from an attorney in California. Christian had re written his final will and testament, and named me as executor of his estate. His will was simple—he left us each 25 million dollars and the rest went to various charities. His estate was to be liquidated and those proceeds donated to AIDS research.

Bellevue no longer held anything for us, as we were treated like outcasts within our social circle, so we sold our home and moved to North Carolina a few months later. We stayed in touch with Flynn as best we could, but after 6 months Christian told Flynn to stop calling or visiting, too—he was cutting himself off from everyone. He removed all of us from his visitors list as well.

Flynn told us that Camile suffered a severe concussion and a fractured skull from Christian's assault, and when she was released from the hospital she was arrested and charged with identify theft, fraud, and trespassing, and was sentenced to 6 months in jail.

Christian's lawsuit against her was finalized when she was in jail, and she was financially ruined by the time his lawyer was done with her.

I don't know what happened to her after she got out of jail, but with no money to pay for expensive medical treatments, I am sure her days were numbered since she was already showing signs of her HIV condition when she was sentenced. I flew down and sat in on her sentencing and was shocked at her physical appearance.

Christian was not charged with assault—his doctor spoke with the police and the DA and explained what caused his outburst, and the DA declined to file charges since Christian had just received a death sentence.

I heard through the grapevine that Elena fought the charges, insisting that she didn't do anything wrong. He public defender couldn't talk her into a plea deal, so it went to trial, and 12 fine citizens of Seattle found her guilty on all charges, and she was sentenced to life in prison.

2 years after Christian entered the treatment center, on a warm sunny day we got the call from his doctor that he had passed away. He had slowly started exhibiting signs of his illness a few months after his diagnosis, but he still refused treatment. He developed pneumonia due to a weakened immune system, and he finally succumbed to the disease.

He died on what would have been his and Ana's 5th wedding anniversary.

The End.