Chapter 59

Agnes

The afternoon sun slanted through the office window, casting long shadows across the wood as I sat at my desk with my pencil in hand. For the first time in the past few days, the sketchbook in front of me wasn’t empty. I’d managed to scrawl a few decent designs across the pages; they were rough, that was for certain, but it was better than nothing.

I leaned back in my chair, stretching until my spine cracked, and glanced over at the clock. Five minutes until the design department meeting at the end of the day.

My stomach twisted slightly at the thought, even though I was the one who had called the meeting. We were going to do an anonymous vote to pick the top sketches for the week, and I knew mine would likely come in dead last.

Not that it should have mattered to me, of course. I was the manager of the department, which meant I didn’t even really have to submit sketches if I didn’t want to.

But the thing was, I did want to. My mother would have done it, so I felt compelled to do it as well. And yet something felt wrong and tight in my stomach. I chalked it up to nerves.

By the time I made my way to the meeting room, everyone was already gathering, standing around the long table where they had each carefully picked out one sketch from their repertoire and placed them in a pile.

I glanced at the neat stack of overturned papers, hesitating for a moment before adding mine and writing a number on the corner of each one. I then shuffled all of them, taking care to ensure that even I had no way of knowing which sketch belonged to which designer.

“Alright, you guys know the drill,” I said with a terse smile as I laid out the pictures. “No voting for your own sketch. Write down the number of your favorite piece. We’ll take the top three sketches with the most votes and use them as inspiration for the next round of designs.”

As I laid the numbered sketches out, my heart began thumping a little faster as I recognized the sleek lines of Ava’s work. They practically glowed under the sunlight streaming through the windows.

The rest of the designs were scattered with varying degrees of effort, mine included. Honestly, I thought they all looked great. But Ava’s were definitely the best, and that was just an objective fact.

Finally, with a deep breath, I handed out the index cards and took a step back. The room fell quiet except for the rustle of paper and soft murmurs as the employees examined the designs. I stayed at the back of the room, watching carefully.

Once everyone had written down their votes, I shuffled the index cards together and tallied everything up.

“Design number three takes the top spot,” I said, glancing at the row of sketches.

Of course, Ava’s sketch was the one with the number ‘three’ scrawled in the corner. Not that I expected any different, but what hurt was the fact that mine—number eight—had one vote.

One.

I swallowed around the lump forming in my throat. I shouldn’t have felt bad, truly; I should have felt proud of my employees for producing such amazing work, and I was.

But I couldn’t help it. Thanks to my… rough history with my sister, seeing her work voted in the top place was painful. Especially considering how damn condescending she’d always been toward my mother’s work.

How? How did she do it?

Still, I kept a smile on my face as we tacked the three winners up on the board for the next meeting. We would meet in the morning to discuss the three sketches and use them as inspiration for our next round, then keep doing this until we had fifteen solid pieces to start refining for the collection.

But as I counted up the remaining sketches, something caught my eye.

“There are nineteen sketches here,” I said, frowning slightly as I scanned the table. “We have twenty employees, including myself. Did someone forget to submit theirs?”

A few murmurs rippled through the room, but no one spoke up.

“Maybe someone just didn’t finish in time,” one of the designers suggested with a shrug.

I nodded slowly, figuring that was probably the case. But something didn’t sit right with me about that, although I didn’t know why. Still, I let it go, closing the folder and tucking it under my arm.

…

Later that night, Thea, Elijah, and I finished up dinner and cleared the table. We headed into the living room once everything was cleaned up, where Thea immediately dug out some of her favorite board games and insisted on playing.

For a moment, I expected Elijah to decline, claiming that he was too tired—and knowing how hard he’d been working, I couldn’t blame him.

But he didn’t. Instead, he smiled and agreed to play, just like any perfect, doting father would. Her giggles filled the air whenever Elijah pretended to lose. He did it over and over, smacking his palm against his forehead and letting out exaggerated groans.

“You’re terrible at this, Daddy!” Thea declared between fits of laughter.

“Hey, I’m just learning!” he teased, poking her in the ribs and making her giggle even louder. “And besides, you’re really good at this game!”

I watched them with a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, something warm unfurling in my chest.

If Olivia ever did try to gain custody, she’d have a hell of a time, I thought as I watched them play together.

But the truth was, Olivia wasn’t the one who’d sent in the DNA samples. It was me.

If she was my daughter, though, I couldn’t bear to take Thea from him. Not when they looked so happy together.

I just wished things would be simpler. And it seemed the universe had no intention of making that so when, out of nowhere, the doorbell rang.

Elijah’s head snapped toward the sound, the playfulness in his eyes fading almost instantly. My heart sank as I rose to my feet, exchanging a glance with him. Without a word, he pushed himself upright and made his way to the door.

I stayed behind, listening to the distant sound of voices filtering through the hall. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when I heard her voice, I couldn’t help myself.

“Please, Elijah. Let me play with my daughter.”

Olivia.

Thea looked up at me, her face instantly going pale. “Is that lady here?”

I hesitated, unsure of what to say. Finally, I forced a small smile as I crouched and brushed her hair back from her face. “Just stay here for a second, sweetheart.”

I stepped closer to the hallway, just in time to see Elijah’s shoulders tense. He was blocking Olivia from entering, his arms folded across his chest. “She’s had a long day, Olivia. This might not be the right time.”

“I’ll only stay for a few minutes. Please,” Olivia said. I couldn’t see her from where she was blocked by Elijah’s tall form, but her voice sounded honey-sweet. I didn’t need to see her face to know she was laying it on thick.

A long silence stretched between them before Elijah finally seemed to come to a conclusion. With a sigh, he stepped back and allowed her to pass. She beamed, sauntering past me without so much as a glance in my direction.

Elijah’s eyes met mine briefly as he led her into the living room. I tried to send all of the disbelief and disappointment I could muster through that single look I gave him, but if it affected him, he didn’t show it.

Olivia stopped in the doorway, wringing her hands. Thea was suddenly on her feet, her entire body tensed as if to run away. I had half a mind to put myself in front of her, to shield her from Olivia.

But before anyone could move or say a word, Elijah stepped forward looking weary and apprehensive.

“Thea,” he said gently, “your mom brought you a gift.”