Chapter 201

Agnes

“Keep your eyes closed,” I warned Thea as Elijah and I guided her up the front steps of our newly rebuilt home. “No peeking.”

“I’m not peeking,” Thea sighed, even though I could see her looking through her fingers clear as day.

It was Thea’s eighth birthday, and also moving day. The house had been completed just in time, thanks to the tireless efforts of the construction crew who had worked around the clock to make it happen. Elijah and I had spent most of the previous day supervising the furniture delivery and making sure everything was absolutely perfect for today.

“Okay,” Elijah said as we reached the front door. “On the count of three, you can open your eyes. One... two... three!”

Thea’s eyes flew open, and she gasped as she took in the foyer of our new home. It was similar to the old one in layout, but we’d made some upgrades in the design—higher ceilings with exposed beams, a grand staircase with an intricate wrought iron railing, and large windows that bathed the space in natural light.

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “Can I see my room? Please?”

“Of course you can see your room,” I said, exchanging a knowing look with Elijah. “In fact, that’s the next part of your birthday surprise.”

We led her up the stairs, past the master bedroom and the guest rooms, to the east wing of the house where her bedroom was located. I’d spent hours designing it, picking out every detail with care, wanting it to be perfect for her. Elijah and I wanted it to be a room she could grow into over the years, not just a child’s room but large and grand enough to be hers as she got older. And maybe, once she was all grown up, she’d want to stay—or at least come to visit frequently.

But I was getting ahead of myself, as I’d been doing a lot these past couple of days. I couldn’t help it; every time I thought about that DNA test, about the results confirming that Thea was my missing daughter, I kept envisioning a perfect future.

All of us. Together. A happy family.

Elijah pushed the door open, and Thea squealed with delight as she rushed inside. The room was everything an eight-year-old girl could dream of—a canopy bed with twinkling fairy lights, a cozy window seat overlooking the garden, built-in bookshelves filled with her favorite stories, and a desk for homework or arts and crafts.

“It’s amazing!” she cried, running from one corner to the other, touching everything as if to make sure it was real. “I love it!”

“There’s more,” I said, unable to contain my smile. “Thea, you should come check out this one book.”

Thea followed my gesture to an antique-looking book that was sticking ever so slightly out from the others. The spine read “The Secret Garden”. She stared at it, clearly confused.

“Go ahead,” Elijah said with a grin. “Pull the book out and tell us what it’s about.”

She frowned, clearly wondering why we were telling her to read old books when she just wanted to run around and play, but obliged. However, the book didn’t fully come out of the shelf—it extended halfway, and then a loud click came from behind it.

Thea’s eyes went wide as saucers as the shelf the book was on opened outward, revealing a playroom beyond.

I wrung my hands as she stood in the secret doorway, exchanging a nervous glance with Elijah. I hoped she liked it.

But my uncertainty was short-lived. Thea burst into the playroom, which was fairy garden themed. Fake ivy and wisteria hung from the ceiling, the walls were painted with murals of wildflower fields and forests, and the carpet was fashioned to look like moss—and felt like it, too.

In the center of the room was a tea table already set up with a tea set and all new stuffed animals, since her old ones had been wrecked in the fire. One corner of the room was nothing but pillows and cushions and fuzzy blankets for her to lounge on, and the other corner contained built-in shelves that housed all kinds of new toys.

“Is this all for me?” she asked in disbelief.

“All for you,” I said with a nod. My vision blurred with happy tears as I watched her explore the room, running her hands over everything, testing the squishiness of the beanbag chairs, opening toy chests to peek inside.

I felt Elijah’s arm slip around my waist, pulling me against his side. “Happy?” he murmured.

“So happy I might burst,” I whispered back, leaning into him. I still couldn’t quite believe it. The child I’d been searching for, grieving for, for seven long years had been right here all along. And tonight, after dinner, we would tell her the truth. The thought made me nervous, but in a good way.

We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the house together. Thea insisted on opening every drawer, looking into every closet, and testing every light switch. Elijah and I couldn’t help but join her in this endeavour.

The builders really had outdone themselves, and my mind was already racing with plans of a pack-wide feast—not just to thank everyone for their hard work, but also to announce the very same thing we’d be telling Thea later.

For dinner, we made Thea’s favorite—homemade pizza with extra cheese and pepperoni. It wasn’t fancy, but it made her happy, and that was all that mattered. We sat together at our new dining table, the first meal in our rebuilt home, talking and laughing.

After dinner, I went to the kitchen and came back with the cake I’d spent yesterday afternoon baking and decorating while Elijah supervised the furniture delivery. It was a double-chocolate layer cake—Thea’s favorite—with buttercream frosting and rainbow sprinkles.

Eight candles burned brightly on top as I set it down in front of her.

Thea’s face glowed in the candlelight as we sang her happy birthday. She closed her eyes for a moment, making her wish, then took a deep breath and blew out all eight candles in one go.

“What did you wish for?” Elijah asked, ruffling her hair.

Thea rolled her eyes. “Dad! You know I can’t tell or it won’t come true.” But then she grinned, unable to keep her secret. “Okay, fine. I wished for us to be a happy family together forever.”

My breath caught in my throat. I looked at Elijah, who nodded slightly. This was the perfect opening.

“Actually,” I said, reaching for her hand across the table, “that’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”

Thea’s expression turned serious, and for a second, I saw fear flash in her eyes. “What is it? Are you and Daddy getting divorced already?”

“No!” Elijah and I exclaimed in unison.

“No, sweetheart, nothing like that,” I assured her quickly. “In fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s something that’s going to make us an even stronger family.”

“Oh,” she said, relaxing a bit but still looking puzzled. “What is it, then?”

Elijah got up and retrieved an envelope from the sideboard where we’d left it earlier. He sat back down and opened it, pulling out the DNA test results.

“A few weeks ago,” Elijah explained, “we did a special test using DNA from all three of us.” He laid the papers on the table where Thea could see them, although I doubted she could understand the scientific jargon. I could hardly understand it myself. “And we found out something amazing.”

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it buzzing in my fingertips. This was the moment I’d been waiting for, dreaming of, for seven years.

“Thea, these test results show that I am your biological mother. Your real mother. Not... not Olivia.”

Thea’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Seven years ago,” I explained carefully, trying to find words an eight-year-old could understand, “when you were just a tiny baby, you were taken away from me. I’ve been looking for you ever since, but I didn’t know where you were.”

“All this time,” Elijah added, “we didn’t know that Agnes was your real mom. The person who took you—Olivia—she kept it a secret from everyone.”

Thea’s brow furrowed as she processed this information. “So... you’re my real mom? And Dad is my real dad? And we’re a real family?”

“Yes,” I said, tears spilling down my cheeks now. “We’re a real family. We always have been, even before we knew it.”

“And nothing will ever separate us again,” Elijah promised. “Your birthday wish is coming true right now.”

For a moment, Thea just sat there, her expression unreadable. I held my breath, suddenly terrified that she might be upset or confused or overwhelmed.

But then her face split into the biggest smile I’d ever seen, and she launched herself out of her chair and into my arms with such force that my own chair fell backward and onto the floor, knocking us both onto the hardwood. But I hardly felt it through the haze of my happiness.

“I knew it!” she cried. “I knew you were my Mommy! I felt it the very first time I saw you!”