Chapter 145

Agnes

I pulled into the driveway around seven, exhausted after a long day of sewing, designing, and avoiding Maria’s knowing glances.

The bathroom incident with Elijah had been the talk of the design department by lunchtime—whispers and stifled giggles following me throughout the afternoon. I’d buried myself in work, focusing on the new dress design with laser precision, trying to forget the feeling of Elijah’s lips on mine and his hands on my thighs.

However, the house was oddly quiet when I entered. No TV sounds, no clattering in the kitchen. Usually, when I got home late, Elijah would be cooking dinner or helping Thea with homework.

“Hello?” I called out, dropping my bag by the door.

Thea’s head popped out from her bedroom. “Hi, Mommy! Daddy’s not home,” she said, answering my unasked question. “Beta James picked me up from school.”

My stomach twisted slightly at that. Where was Elijah? After our encounter in the bathroom, I’d half-expected him to follow me home, to finish what we’d started. The memory of his hands on my skin made heat crawl up my neck even now.

Curious, I pulled out my phone and sent him a quick text asking where he was. He hadn’t been at the pack headquarters when I’d left.

I waited, watching the screen, but no reply came. A twinge of doubt crept in then. Was he avoiding me? Regretting what happened? My mind flashed back to that fleeting moment when I’d wondered if he’d just come from seeing Olivia, if the mate bond was still thrumming through him when he kissed me.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he’d been affected by a recent visit with her, and now he was coming to his senses. The thought made my heart ache, but I pushed it away. I couldn’t let myself spiral, not with Thea looking at me expectantly, waiting for dinner.

“Well, I guess it’s just us girls tonight,” I said, forcing a smile. “How about we make something special for dinner?”

Thea’s eyes lit up. “Can we have breakfast for dinner? Pancakes and everything?”

I laughed, the sound chasing away some of the heaviness in my chest. “Absolutely. And how about after, we do nails and watch a movie? A real girls’ night.” Goddess knew she needed it after the disaster of a “Mother’s Day” yesterday. I needed it, too.

“Yes!” She bounced on her toes, already racing toward the kitchen.

I followed her, grateful for the distraction. The kitchen was warm and inviting, and focusing on cracking eggs and measuring flour helped keep my mind off Elijah and his whereabouts. Thea chattered about her day at school, about how her friends had all heard about the “performance art piece” from the fashion show.

“Everyone said you were so cool,” she told me, carefully stirring the pancake batter. “Emma’s mom said you were like, breaking stereotypes or something.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. If only they knew it hadn’t been intentional at all. Just a desperate attempt to find my stepdaughter, followed by a very real, very unplanned fight with my husband’s ex.

We made a feast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Thea insisted on setting the table “fancy,” with cloth napkins and the good plates. We ate until our stomachs hurt, giggling over silly jokes and planning the rest of our girls’ night.

After dinner, I cleaned up while Thea picked out a movie. When I joined her in the living room, she had nail polish bottles spread across the coffee table—including the same shade she’d gotten at the salon yesterday before everything went wrong.

“Can we fix these?” she asked, holding up her hands with the smeared polish. “That lady didn’t finish before you came.”

My chest tightened at the memory. Thea had been so scared, tears on her cheeks when I found her with Olivia.

“Of course,” I said, patting the spot next to me on the couch. “Let’s get you all fixed up.”

I carefully removed the smudged polish from her nails. The cotton ball came away stained with the same garish red Olivia had been wearing. My jaw clenched, but I forced myself to remain calm, refusing to let Olivia—or myself, for that matter—ruin another night.

“What color would you like?” I asked, gesturing to the array of bottles.

Thea didn’t hesitate. “The same color you always wear.”

I blinked in surprise, glancing down at the ballet pink—almost nude—that I typically wore. It was just enough to make me feel put-together without having to worry about matching anything. “You want that exact shade?”

She nodded firmly. “It’s so pretty. And I want to match with you, not… her.”

That last confession made my throat close up. Even after the disaster of the fashion show, after seeing me at my absolute worst, clawing and snarling like an animal, Thea still wanted to match with me. I swallowed hard, picking up the ballet pink polish.

I painted her nails carefully, making sure each one was perfect. Thea held her hands still, watching with rapt attention as the nearly-nude polish transformed her fingertips. Just for fun, I added a touch of glitter to the top of hers, and added some to mine as well. When I was finished, she admired them in the lamplight, turning her hands this way and that.

“Just like yours,” she said happily.

“Just like mine.”

Next came hair braiding. Thea sat on the floor between my knees as I gently worked through the tangles of her dark hair, separating strands for a French braid. My fingers moved automatically, muscle memory from years of doing my own hair. I hummed softly as I worked, and Thea leaned back into my touch.

“Mommy?” she asked after a while.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Yesterday, at the nail place… when you fought with her. It was really scary.”

My hands froze mid-braid. A knot of anguish suddenly twisted in my stomach.

“Thea, I—” I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about how I behaved yesterday. Fighting like that, in front of you. That wasn’t right.”

She turned to face me. “Don’t be sorry. You were like my hero. You came to save me from that evil lady. It was scary before you came, but I felt better as soon as I saw you.”

My chest hurt at her words. I didn’t want to be that kind of heroine—one who fought and clawed and raged. I wanted to be one who relied on kindness and love, who showed strength through compassion rather than violence.

“That’s not… Thea, there are better ways to handle difficult situations than fighting. I shouldn’t have let my anger take over like that.”

“But you were scared for me,” she said simply. “Daddy said so. He said you love me so much that you got scared when I was gone, and sometimes when grown-ups get really scared, they get angry too.”

Leave it to Elijah to explain it in a way she could understand. I pulled her into a hug, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

“I do love you,” I whispered. “Very, very much.”

She hugged me back tightly. “I love you too. Way more than her.”

I held her for a long moment, unsure of how to respond to that. Olivia was her biological mother, and no matter how I felt about her, I didn’t want to poison Thea against her even more. But I couldn’t deny the fierce joy that bloomed in my heart at Thea’s words.

After our serious moment, we moved on to the movie portion of our girls’ night. Thea picked a lighthearted animated film, and I made a huge bowl of popcorn. We snuggled under a blanket on the couch, Thea’s small body curled against mine with her head on my shoulder.

As the movie played, I found my mind wandering again. This was the kind of evening I’d always imagined having with my own daughter—painting nails, braiding hair, watching movies under cozy blankets. The daughter who had been taken from me, who might be out there somewhere still.

The support from the pack after the fashion show had rekindled a tiny flame of hope in my chest. People were looking for her now, believing me when I said she was alive. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance I’d find her after all these years.

But even as that hope flickered, I was overwhelmingly grateful for Thea. For her warmth against my side, her complete trust in me, her declaration of love. If I never found my biological daughter—a thought that still hurt terribly—at least I had this precious girl who had claimed me as her own.

I just hoped that it would remain this way, and that nothing would tear us apart.

If that happened, I wasn’t sure I could bear it.

By the time the credits rolled, Thea was fast asleep against me. I didn’t have the heart to wake her. Instead, I carefully adjusted our position so we were both lying down. I switched off the lamp and closed my eyes, the events of the day finally catching up to me.

My last thought before drifting off was of Elijah, wondering where he was, if he was okay. Despite my concerns, exhaustion won out, and I fell into a deep sleep.

I woke with a start some hours later, unsure at first what had pulled me from sleep. Thea was still sleeping on my chest, completely unfazed. Then I heard it—the front door opening, followed by a heavy thud.

Carefully, I maneuvered out from under Thea, making sure not to wake her. She mumbled something in her sleep but didn’t stir as I replaced my body with a pillow. I padded barefoot across the living room, my pulse quickening.

Had Elijah finally come home? Or was it someone else?

The entryway was dark, lit only by the faint glow from the porch light streaming through the window. I squinted, making out a figure slumped against the door.

“Elijah?” I called softly, moving closer.

He lifted his head at the sound of my voice, and I gasped. Even in the dim light, I could see the dark bruise circling his left eye. It far outweighed the beauty of the red roses clutched in his hand.