Chapter 203

Agnes

I straightened my blouse one last time before pushing open the glass door to the design department. It had been almost a month since I’d last set foot in the office—first because of the fire, then because of everything with Thea and the house rebuild.

I wasn’t nervous, exactly, but there was a strange fluttering in my stomach as I stepped inside.

“SURPRISE!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the shouts. Blinking in shock, I took in the scene: a banner reading “WELCOME BACK AGNES!” was hung across the far wall, colorful cupcakes were arranged on a table in the center of the room, and my entire team was grinning at me.

“What the—” I started, then found myself engulfed in a hug as Gertrude barreled into me.

“We’ve missed you so much,” she said, squeezing me tight. “It’s been absolutely dreadful without you here.”

“Oh, come on,” I laughed, awkwardly patting her back. “You see me all the time, Gertrude. And shouldn’t you be in your own department right now?”

Gertrude sighed into my hair. “I just missed our lunches.”

As Gertrude finally released me, I looked around at the small party they’d prepared for me. “You guys didn’t have to do all this,” I said, gesturing at the decorations and food.

“Yes, we absolutely did,” Maria insisted, steering me toward the cupcake table. “Now, these are from that fancy bakery that just opened downtown. And we’ve got coffee to go with them.”

I allowed myself to be guided to a chair, accepted a cupcake and coffee, and spent the next half hour chatting with my team. They filled me in on office gossip, asked polite questions about the house rebuild while carefully avoiding any mention of the fire itself, and seemed genuinely pleased when I shared that Thea had had a wonderful birthday celebration.

Finally, once the catching up was complete, Maria approached with a large portfolio. “The summer collection is through the design phase,” she announced proudly, laying it on the table before me. “I wanted to get your final approval before we move to production samples.”

I flipped open the portfolio and found myself staring at beautifully rendered illustrations of the designs I’d sketched before the fire. Maria had taken my rough concepts and transformed them into fully realized designs, complete with fabric swatches and detailed construction notes.

She really deserved a raise. I’d have to bring it up to Elijah later.

“These are incredible,” I murmured, turning the pages slowly. Each design was exactly what I’d envisioned, but somehow better. More refined. I glanced up at Maria, who was watching me nervously. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Really?” Her face relaxed into a relieved smile. “I was worried I might have taken too many liberties.”

“Not at all.” I closed the portfolio and handed it back to her. “I approve everything. Let’s get these into production immediately.”

“Already scheduled,” she said with a grin. “I just needed your final sign-off.”

I snorted. “Sounds like you guys didn’t need me at all.”

“That’s not true,” Maria said quickly. “You trained us well, that’s all.”

As the impromptu party wrapped up and people returned to their desks, I made my way to my office, breathing in the familiar scent of paper and fabric. I sat at my computer, and while I booted it up, I flipped through the folders and documents that had been placed on my desk for my return.

I was pleased to discover that the survival bags had become a huge hit. The first round of orders had already been fulfilled and shipped. The Isabella Foundation was apparently making waves, too, and the pile of documents contained inquiries from three neighboring packs about implementing similar programs.

I spent the rest of the day catching up on emails, reviewing designs, and having meetings. I even had my usual lunch outside with Gertrude, who filled me in on library gossip. It felt good to be back.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, I was pleasantly exhausted but also invigorated. I gathered my things, said my goodbyes, and headed home.

Home. Not the hotel, not a temporary space, but home. Where Elijah and Thea were waiting for me. My family.

The thought still gave me a little jolt of joy every time it crossed my mind.

Thea was already back from day camp when I arrived, sprawled on the living room floor with a coloring book and a horde of new crayons—which we’d certainly be finding under the couch for years to come. She looked up as I entered.

“Mommy!” She jumped up and ran to hug me. “How was work?”

“It was good,” I said, kissing the top of her head and trying not to tear up over her excitement. “They had a welcome back party for me with cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes?” Thea’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “Did you bring any home?”

I laughed and pulled a small box from my bag. “Of course I did. What kind of mother do you think I am?”

Her squeal of delight as she peeked inside the box was worth every penny of the extra cupcakes I’d secretly stopped to buy on the way home.

“Where’s your dad?” I asked, hanging my jacket in the closet.

“On a call in his office,” Thea said through a mouthful of chocolate frosting. “He said he’d be done by dinnertime.”

I nodded, slipping off my shoes. “Why don’t you go wash up for dinner? Then you can tell me all about camp.”

Dinner was a casual affair—pasta with garlic bread and a simple salad. We ate at the dining room table, Thea chattering about her day at camp while Elijah told us about his meetings.

Normal family stuff. The kind of everyday moments I’d dreamed about during those long, lonely years of searching for my daughter. I hoped to cherish each and every one, to hold them all as precious things in my mind and never forget a single detail.

After dinner, Thea went upstairs to take a bath and get ready for bed. Elijah retreated into his office to finish some work, and I found myself drawn to my study—a room I’d barely had time to explore since we’d moved in.

Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with design references and fashion histories. A large desk sat beneath the window, offering a view of the gardens. In one corner, a drafting table was set up with all my supplies neatly arranged. There was even a small sitting area with a plush armchair and a side table—perfect for those times when I needed to step away from my work and think.

I moved to the drafting table, running my fingers over the smooth surface. An idea had been forming in the back of my mind all day: matching outfits for the three of us to wear to the feast I was planning.

Something special to mark the occasion of publicly announcing that Thea was our biological daughter.

Pulling out a fresh sketchpad, I began to draw. For Thea, I came up with a dress in a pretty pink that I knew she would like, with delicate purple embroidery at the hem and collar. For Elijah, a pair of tailored trousers, a crisp button-down with stitching around the buttonholes, and a jacket.

And for myself, a simple slip dress in delicate silver silk.

I lost track of time as I sketched, erased, and refined my designs. At some point, Elijah poked his head in to tell me he was putting Thea to bed, but I barely registered his words, too absorbed in my work.

I was so engrossed in my planning that I didn’t even notice the time. I eventually moved to the floor, spreading out sketches and sample fabrics that I borrowed from the design department earlier that day.

The next thing I knew, I was lying flat on the floor, my cheek pressed against a sketch of Thea’s dress. Somewhere beyond the fog of my exhaustion, I knew I should get up and go to bed.

But somehow, I couldn’t summon the energy to move. And really, the floor wasn’t so bad. Not compared to some of the places I’d slept during those years on my own. At least I was safe here. At least I was home.

My last thought before drifting off to sleep there on the floor was how strange it was to feel this completely, utterly happy—even with a hardwood floor beneath my back and pencil smudges on my face.

This was joy. This was everything I’d ever wanted.

And I was determined to make it last.