Chapter 62

Agnes

Elijah didn’t pull away first.

Neither did Olivia.

And as for me… I couldn’t tear my eyes away, either. Not from the way her fingers curled into the back of his shirt. Not from the soft glow of their mating marks. Not from the way Elijah’s hand settled carefully against her jaw, tipping her chin up just enough to deepen the kiss.

I watched it all happen. I shouldn’t have, but I did.

The worst part wasn’t even the kiss itself.

It was the sound—the quiet sigh that escaped Olivia as she leaned closer, sinking against him like she was melting into something she thought belonged to her. The sound curled through the room, soft and sweet, and it felt like nails raking across a chalkboard inside my head.

All I could do was stand there and stare at the wall, completely helpless. I didn’t want to see, didn’t want to hear if, and yet I was so utterly rooted to my spot that I couldn’t bring myself to turn around and leave, no matter how much I wanted to.

So I heard every single second of it. And I hated it.

But then, I felt something warm and small touch my hand. I looked down to see Thea staring up at me, tugging at me. I swallowed against the lump in my throat and blinked down at her, forcing something close to a smile even though I felt like a hollowed-out shell.

“Mommy,” Thea said quietly, pulling on my hand again. “I want to go to bed now.”

It was only as Thea said that word—Mommy—that Olivia finally pulled away from Elijah. Even then, I knew she only pulled away because the word enraged her. She had Elijah wrapped around her finger in this moment, but not Thea.

And without Thea’s favor, she couldn’t fully have Elijah’s. She knew that just as well as I did.

But before Olivia or Elijah could say anything, I beamed as if nothing was wrong and scooped Thea into my arms, kissing her on the cheek. “Of course, sweetheart. How about a bubble bath first?”

“Yes, please!”

Olivia’s cheeks reddened, her mouth parting, but it was too late. I was already striding out of the room with Thea in my arms.

I didn’t look at Elijah as I brushed past him. I didn’t need to. His hand fell away from Olivia, and I could feel his gaze trailing after me long after I turned the corner and disappeared up the stairs.

By the time we reached Thea’s bedroom, I had managed to steady my breathing, although I felt like I was standing on a crumbling bridge. Thea climbed onto the edge of the closet toilet seat, swinging her legs back and forth as I knelt to turn on the tap and start filling the bathtub.

As I worked, Thea wrinkled her nose and let out a soft giggle. “Can I tell you a secret?”

I glanced at her. “Sure, sweetheart. What is it?”

She giggled again. “I lied. I’m not tired.”

I arched a brow at her over my shoulder. “Oh, so I got tricked?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Why?” I asked, leaning my elbow on the edge of the tub as it filled up with warm, bubbly water.

Her face softened, and she kicked her legs again, this time slower. “I didn’t wanna stay down there.”

I stopped stirring the water and fully turned to face her, a little stunned. Not that I didn’t expect this, but hearing it out loud made me pause.

“I don’t like seeing Daddy with her,” she continued. A bitter look crossed her face, a look that spoke of a soul far older than her years on this planet. The sight made my heart twist a little, and I hated to see such a young girl hold such a heavy weight in her heart.

Even more so when she said her next words: “And I know you didn’t like it, either.”

My eyes widened slightly. I didn’t know what to say to that; it wasn’t Thea’s responsibility to make sure that I was happy and comfortable. She was a child. She should have been thinking about unicorns and rainbows, not the ramifications of her father’s toxic relationship with her siren of a mother.

The room was quiet for a long time, save for the sound of the bathtub filling up. If I felt stunned in the living room earlier, then I felt even more stunned now. I wanted to say something to comfort Thea, but the words just didn’t come no matter how hard I tried.

“I don’t like having her as my mom,” she finally whispered after a little while, looking down at her lap. “I wish it was you.”

Her words knocked the air straight from my lungs.

Before I could stop myself, I crossed the room and wrapped her in my arms, pulling her tightly against my chest. Thea melted into me without hesitation, curling into my arms with a soft sigh.

“You’ll always have me,” I whispered into her hair. “No matter what. Okay?”

I felt her nod against my chest, and for a long while, neither of us moved.

After her bubble bath, I didn’t go back to my own bedroom that night. Thea asked me to snuggle with her, and so I stayed curled up beside her, tucking her against me as the moonlight slipped across the room.

We fell asleep just like that. Just the two of us, scrunched up on her small bed, the rest of the world slipping away.

I tried not to stain her pillows with my tears.

By the time I made it to the office the next morning, I felt like I had aged ten years overnight.

I didn’t bother lingering by the coffee pot or listening in on the usual office gossip. I threw myself straight into work, pouring every ounce of focus I had into the designs for the new collection.

I sketched until the edges of the paper were crumpled from my sleeve rubbing across the page, each new idea filling whatever space I could find. By lunch, my desk was covered in rough drafts, and for the first time in days, I felt something close to satisfaction settle over me.

But when I stepped into the design department meeting toward the end of the day, the feeling vanished almost immediately.

Ava’s sketches were spread out across the table, and they were nothing short of stunning.

Even I couldn’t deny how flawless the lines were, the careful details woven into every inch of the design.

The applause came naturally. Everyone in the room admired her work, and when Ava caught my eye from across the table, the corner of her mouth tugged upward ever so slightly. She looked pleased with herself.

And I hated how much it stung.

By the time the meeting wrapped up and the designers began to head home for the day, I stayed behind to gather the sketches for review. I counted through them carefully, but something made my brow furrow.

Nineteen.

There were nineteen sketches, but we had twenty designers on the team. Just like last time.

Just to be sure, I counted again. But there were still nineteen. And since it had happened before, I began to wonder if someone was consistently not turning in their work.

“Did someone forget to submit theirs again?” I asked, but nobody answered. Just a few murmurs and shrugs.

As the last few designers left the room, I glanced down at the sketches again, confused. I was about to head back to my office when the sound of quiet sniffling caught my attention.

I turned, spotting a designer lingering at the far end of the room, hunched over her desk with her head bowed.

“Hey,” I called out softly, stepping toward her. “Are you alright?”

The designer startled and quickly wiped at her face, brushing past me before I could get a good look at her expression.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, rushing toward the exit without a second look.

I watched her leave, my chest tightening as her footsteps echoed down the empty hall.

What was that about? And why did it leave me with more questions than answers?