Chapter 138

Agnes

I sat at my desk a few days later, the late afternoon sun streaming through the office window, casting golden patches across the fabric swatches scattered in front of me. My fingers brushed over the silk I’d finally chosen for the gown—rather than black, I’d settled on a deep emerald green that shimmered faintly, like leaves catching the light.

Ever since Elijah expressed his interest in wearing the suit to the gala, I’d been tweaking the dress design for days, wanting it to match as a trio set. I’d adjusted the drape of the skirt until it flowed just right, changed the color, and added some more structured lines that would honor the lines of the suit.

But this afternoon, my pencil was moving across the sketchpad with a new purpose: a smaller, more childlike version of the gown, tailored specifically for Thea.

A mother-daughter set.

The thought warmed me, even as a familiar ache twisted in my gut. I shook it off, focusing instead on my work. The suit I’d designed for Elijah featured tiny embroidered vines around the buttonholes, barely noticeable unless you looked closely. Unbeknownst to him, I’d secretly added the same embroidery to various spots on the gowns, an understated and mature yet fun way to match.

Once the sketches were done, I gathered them up and headed out of my office. My stomach fluttered as I stepped into the open workspace where the other designers were hard at work on their own sets for the fashion line.

Some of them had even completed their sets, which were draped on mannequins and waiting for model fittings. The other packs’ Lunas and their daughters, nieces, or little sisters were supposed to come in a few days. I felt way behind on my set, hence the nerves.

“I’ve finally got something to share,” I said, holding up the sketches. “For the upcoming show. I’d like some feedback, if anyone is willing.”

Maria and a few other designers gathered around. I laid the drawings out on the main work table, and Maria picked one up, studying it in the sunlight.

“This is gorgeous, Agnes,” she said, passing the sketch to the next designer. “The matching embroidery is really sweet. I like that you incorporated it into the folds of the child’s dress and made it bigger and more obvious, while it’s smaller and more understated on the mother’s dress.”

Relief washed over me, a flush spreading across my cheeks. I’d been nervous about showing them, but their praise settled my nerves. “Thanks,” I said simply. “I’m hoping it’ll make a statement.”

And it would; not just at the fashion show, but at that mysterious event that I still knew nothing about. I intended to unveil the mother-daughter set at the show, then wear it to the event, with Elijah wearing his suit.

Speaking of the fashion show, it was just a week away now, set to be on Mother’s Day, and all of the designers—myself included—were excited for the big day. The design department was constantly warm and buzzing with energy.

But outside those walls, the internet was far stormier. I’d been scrolling through my phone during a coffee break when I saw it yesterday—Olivia’s latest rant on social media, which she’d posted after the “depression medication” incident.

“Denied the chance to walk with my own daughter,” her post read. “Some people can’t handle a real mother stepping up. On Mother’s Day, no less!”

It seemed her claims, the day she’d brought me the gift basket, had been a lie. She didn’t give a shit if her followers hated on me. She had just pretended that she cared, had brought me a gift and given me an apology, just so she could get what she wanted.

And now that she couldn’t have that, she was retaliating. And her followers were hating on me once again; thankfully, I’d learned by now not to read the comments, but it still made me nervous to think about.

Still, I knew it was only right to give Thea a say in the matter. Olivia wanted to walk with her in the fashion show, and I wasn’t going to make that decision for Thea. Elijah was on board as well, wanting to give her as much liberty as possible.

One night, Elijah and I called Thea downstairs, and she bounded into the room. “What’s up?” she asked, her little sketchbook tucked under her arm—she’d been practicing drawing outfits lately, trying to take after me. It was sweet. And a little heartbreaking, sometimes.

“Sweetheart, the fashion show’s coming up,” I said, glancing at Elijah. “But I wanted to let you know that your mom wants to walk with you.”

Thea’s face scrunched up, her nose wrinkling just at the mention of Olivia.

Elijah went on, “But it’s your decision. Would you rather walk with your mom or Agnes?”

She didn’t hesitate. “You,” she said firmly, her eyes locking onto mine. “You’re my real mom, not her.”

My heart stopped, then thudded hard against the inside of my ribs. I blinked, my throat closing up as tears threatened to spill over. “Thea… why would you say that?”

She shrugged matter-of-factly. “I just feel like you are.”

For a fleeting moment, hope sparked in my chest. What if…

No.

Reality crashed in in the span of a heartbeat, just like it always did. I’d seen the DNA tests, the records, the proof that Thea was Olivia’s and not mine. My daughter was still out there, lost to me. This was just a child’s wishful thinking, nothing more.

I forced a smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “That means a lot, sweetheart. If you want to walk with me, then that makes me happy.”

She grinned, oblivious to my emotions, and scampered off to her room again. I tried not to show my emotions on my face as I stood and dusted off my pants.

Elijah tilted his head. “You alright?”

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”

But truthfully, I wasn’t. Not when I wished, more than anything, that Thea was mine.

Not when I knew she wasn’t.

Three days later, the day of the fashion show dawned bright and clear. I’d barely opened my eyes when Thea burst into my room like a ball of energy. She leapt onto the bed, jumping up and down and shaking me.

“Wake up, Mommy! It’s fashion show day! We have to go get ready!”

My eyes snapped open, and I couldn’t help but grin. Without hesitating, I threw my arms around her and pulled her down, poking her in the ribs to make her giggle. “Waking me up at the crack of dawn, huh?” I teased, to which Thea just giggled harder. But then she relaxed slightly, crawling beneath the blankets and nuzzling against me.

I inhaled the scent of her hair as she curled up beside me, rubbing her back. Just a few minutes like this, I thought as a small smile tugged at my mouth.

Thea glanced up at me, her smile matching my own. “I can’t wait to wear our matching dresses,” she said. “That was so much fun last time. I want to match every day from now on.”

My heart thrummed at her words, and I laughed, kissing the top of her head. My daughter. Perhaps not mine in the biological sense, but she was mine in the ways that mattered, and I wouldn’t let the sadness over my birth daughter get in the way of tender moments like this.

“I’d like that, too,” I said gently before ushering her out of bed and climbing out myself. “Now, let’s go get ready for the show.”