Chapter 155

Agnes

My fingers trembled as I attached another crystal bead to the bodice of the gown. I’d been sewing for hours, but my mind refused to settle down no matter how much I tried. The same questions kept circling like vultures, picking at my flesh until it was raw.

Could it really be true? Was Mason my fated mate after all these years? Was Elijah planning to marry Olivia while having me design the very gown she would wear? I couldn’t decide which was worse.

The needle slipped, pricking my finger. I cursed under my breath, watching a tiny drop of blood bead on my skin. How fitting. My blood, sewn into a dress for another woman to wear.

I needed a break.

Setting aside my needle and thread, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. The house was quiet, although I could hear faint laughter from outside. I fixed myself a simple sandwich, not really tasting it as I chewed mechanically, staring out the kitchen window.

In the garden, Elijah and Thea were playing tag, running through the grass with wild abandon. Thea’s pigtails bounced as she darted between the flower beds, squealing with delight as Elijah pretended to struggle to catch her. When he finally did, he scooped her up and spun her around, both of them laughing.

Something in my chest loosened at the sight. Despite everything, they looked so happy, so normal.

Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself stepping out onto the back porch, my sandwich forgotten on the counter.

Thea spotted me first, waving frantically from where she stood near the rose bushes.

“Mommy!” she called. “Come play with us! Daddy’s it!”

Mommy. The word still gave me a pang, both sweet and painful. She wasn’t mine—might never truly be mine—and yet she called me her mother without hesitation.

Elijah turned then, his eyes finding mine. A real, genuine smile spread across his face. He beckoned me over, his hand extended in invitation.

“Come on,” he called. “I can’t catch her alone. She’s too fast!”

Dammit. I couldn’t stay mad at him for long, could I? Not when he was smiling at me like that.

I hesitated for only a moment before kicking off my slippers. The grass was cool between my toes as I stepped off the porch and into the yard.

Before I could react, he tapped my shoulder and darted away. “You’re it!” he shouted over his shoulder. Thea shrieked with laughter, already running to hide behind a tree.

For a moment, I stood frozen, startled by the sudden shift. Then something warm and forgotten bloomed in my chest, and I was running too, chasing after Thea with exaggerated monster steps that made her giggle uncontrollably.

“I’m gonna get you!” I called, wiggling my fingers threateningly.

“No!” she squealed, darting away. “Daddy, help!”

Elijah swooped in, lifting Thea high above his head and spinning her around. “I’ve got you, princess!”

But I was already there, reaching up to tickle Thea’s sides, making her squirm and laugh. “You can’t escape the tickle monster!”

For what felt like hours, we played in the garden, chasing each other between the trees and around flower beds. The weight of my earlier worries seemed to lighten with each step, with each burst of laughter. This—this joy, this simplicity—felt too real to be a lie.

How could Elijah play so freely, love Thea so openly, look at me with such warmth, if he was planning to betray us both?

As we ran around a large oak tree, I collided with something solid—Elijah’s chest. We both tumbled to the ground, him taking the brunt of the fall with me landing on top of him. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, and I found myself staring down into his eyes, our faces inches apart.

For a moment, neither of us moved. Then Elijah reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips lingering against my cheek. The tenderness in his gaze made my heart stutter.

“Got you,” he said softly.

Before I could respond, a small body crashed into us both. “Pile on Daddy!” Thea shouted, flinging herself across us with all the enthusiasm of a seven-year-old.

The seriousness of the moment shattered, and we were all laughing again, a tangle of limbs in the grass. The ice around my heart thawed a little more at the sound of their happiness—our happiness, together.

Eventually, Thea’s boundless energy drew her away to chase a butterfly, leaving Elijah and me sitting beneath the cherry tree. Petals drifted down around us like pale pink snow, catching in my hair and on Elijah’s shoulders. We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching Thea run between the flower beds.

“You alright?” Elijah asked finally, his hand covering mine where it rested on the grass. “I heard you cursing earlier while you were sewing. Not going well?”

I hesitated, knowing I should be honest but unsure how to start. The words felt stuck in my throat like a shard of glass.

Elijah squeezed my hand gently. “Agnes. Talk to me.”

The simple request broke something in me. “I saw Olivia’s post,” I blurted out. “The one with her wearing the exact same locket and earrings that I bought. She said they were for ‘the big day’… with a dress to match.”

Elijah’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“After you sent me to buy jewelry, Olivia went to the same store and bought identical pieces. The saleswoman told me Olivia said someone was making her a wedding gown with a matching one for Thea.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “The same gown I’ve been making. In the same color.”

Understanding dawned on Elijah’s face, followed quickly by irritation—not at me, but at the situation. “She’s just trying to cause trouble, Agnes. That’s what Olivia does.” His tone was firm but calm. “I’m not planning to remarry her. I never would, not after everything.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he cut in. “Don’t you trust me by now?”

The question hit me harder than I expected. Of course I trusted him. I’d trusted him with everything I had for so long now. I couldn’t imagine feeling the same level of peace and dignity with anyone else.

I looked away, feeling suddenly guilty. Had I really allowed Olivia’s manipulation to make me doubt everything Elijah and I had built? Everything we’d worked toward?

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I should have talked to you sooner instead of letting it fester.”

Elijah’s expression softened. “You have nothing to apologize for. Olivia is… skilled at creating unrest. It’s sort of her specialty.” He reached out, tilting my chin up so I met his gaze again. “But I promise you, after the gala next week, everything will be clear. You’ll see the truth for yourself.”

There was a sparkle in his eyes that I couldn’t quite decipher. Whatever it was, it felt genuine, and the knot in my chest loosened further.

“Next week,” I echoed. “I’ll have the gown finished by then.”

“I know you will. And you will wear it, and it will be the most beautiful gown at the event.”

That night, I returned to my sewing with renewed vigor. The beadwork that had frustrated me earlier now flowed from my fingers with ease, each crystal catching the light as I attached it to the bodice.

The next few days passed in a blur. I worked tirelessly on the gown, pushing all thoughts of Mason, of mate bonds, of Olivia’s manipulations to the back of my mind. Whether the nightmare’s message had been true or not didn’t matter right now. What mattered was finishing this gown—my gown—and seeing Elijah’s face when I wore it to the gala.

The night before the event, I made the final stitches, securing the last crystal bead to the sweeping train. My back ached from days spent hunched over my work, but satisfaction hummed through me as I stepped back to admire the finished piece.

The champagne silk caught the dim light of my sewing lamp, the crystal beadwork sparkling like the first rays of sun sweeping over the horizon. The flowing skirt looked like liquid gold, and the armored bodice shone in the light. As a final thought, I’d added a small hole in the center of the bodice, which would barely expose my sternum. A window to the heart.

It was everything I’d envisioned—everything I’d poured my heart into creating.

It was… perfect.