Agnes

I couldn’t shake the mix of emotions swirling inside me as I walked through the gleaming corridors of Silvermoon, heading toward the design department. After everything that had happened with Elijah since I’d met him—the tension, misunderstandings, and heartache—I found myself tasked with reviving the department that had once been my mother’s pride.

Silvermoon’s fashion division had been a trendsetting beacon when she led it, but since her death, it had become a hollow shell of what it once was.

I wasn’t sure if Elijah’s decision to assign me this task was his way of extending an olive branch or another test. Did he really trust me with something this important, or was this just another responsibility to prove my worth?

I stood in front of the large, frosted glass doors of the Silvermoon design department, my heart pounding in my chest. I hadn’t expected to feel this nervous, not after everything I had already faced, but here I was—on the brink of taking over a department that had once been my mother’s pride and joy. Now, it was my responsibility to breathe life back into it, to restore it to the innovative powerhouse it had once been.

Elijah stood beside me, his usual calm, authoritative presence a steady force in contrast to my racing thoughts. He looked over at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice low.

I took a deep breath, giving him a nod, even though I wasn’t entirely sure I was. But this was happening, whether I was ready or not.

He pushed the doors open, and the sleek, modern space of the design studio came into view. It was a far cry from the vibrant, creative atmosphere I remembered from my childhood visits to my mother’s office. Instead of mannequins draped in half-finished designs, the room was filled with digital screens and sterile workstations.

The buzz of conversation and the tapping of fingers on keyboards filled the air, but there was a coldness here, a distance that felt wrong.

As we walked in, all eyes turned toward us. The hum of activity quieted, and a few curious glances were cast my way. But one pair of eyes, in particular, was locked on me with a cold, calculating stare.

Melinda Grayson, the current design director, stood near the back of the room. Tall, immaculately dressed, with a severe expression that made it clear she wasn’t thrilled about my presence. She had been Olivia’s staunchest supporter for years, and I knew without a doubt that she saw me as nothing more than an intruder.

Elijah strode confidently toward her, and I followed, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room.

“Melinda,” Elijah said, his voice steady but firm. “I’d like to formally introduce you to Agnes. She’ll be heading the design department from now on.”

The silence that followed his statement was palpable. Melinda’s eyes flicked to me, her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t try to hide her disdain.

“Elijah,” she began, her tone icy. “With all due respect, this department has been under my direction for years. I’ve built it into what it is today. I don’t see why there’s a need for—”

“It’s final,” Elijah interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Agnes is the one who will take this department forward. You’ll still be involved, of course, but she’s in charge.”

Melinda’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. But Elijah’s authority was absolute, and she knew it. Instead, she gave a curt nod, her gaze shifting back to me with barely concealed hostility.

“Understood,” she said through gritted teeth. “Welcome, Agnes.”

I forced a smile, though my heart was racing. “Thank you, Melinda. I’m looking forward to working with you and the team.”

She didn’t respond, simply turned on her heel and walked away, leaving me standing there in the middle of the room, feeling a strange mix of triumph and anxiety.

Elijah’s hand touched my back briefly, a gesture of reassurance.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured before stepping away. “I’ll leave you to it.”

As he walked out of the studio, I watched him go, a swirl of emotions churning inside me. He had made it clear that this was my responsibility now, and despite his support, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of it pressing down on me.

The room gradually returned to its usual buzz of activity, but I could feel the eyes on me—watching, judging. I knew I had a lot to prove, not just to Melinda and the rest of the team, but to myself as well.

I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. I wasn’t here to make friends. I was here to fix things.

As I looked around, I noticed that Olivia’s influence creeped into every aspect of the Silvermoon designs, which made my stomach churn. This department, once alive with creativity, had become a playground for high-profile models like her and my stepsister, Ava. The department catered only to the elite, forgetting the everyday consumer—the heart of fashion.

And now I planned to make things right.

Designers moved around with their eyes glued to tablets, sketching dresses I couldn’t imagine anyone but a runway model wearing.

No one paid me any attention. It was like I was invisible, an outsider in what should have been familiar territory.

My heart ached at the memory of this place—where I had watched my mother drape fabric over mannequins, surrounded by the hum of sewing machines and the scent of fresh fabric. The creative energy that once flowed through these halls was gone, replaced with a cold professionalism that felt foreign to me.

I swallowed hard, trying to focus. I wasn’t here to dwell on the past. I was here to fix things.

As I moved deeper into the room, my eyes flicked over the designs pinned to the digital boards. Gowns with sharp silhouettes, intricate beadwork, and avant-garde cuts—beautiful, yes, but distant. These weren’t the kinds of clothes people wore in real life.

These were dresses Olivia would flaunt at a gala, or Ava would wear for a high-fashion magazine shoot. But for everyday consumers? It was a world apart.

“Agnes.”

The voice was sharp, and I turned to see Melinda again. I studied her more now that my nerves had settled. Tall, polished, and with a sharp sense of style, she had been Olivia’s strongest ally for years.

From the look she gave me, it was clear she saw me as nothing but an intruder.

“Melinda,” I greeted, forcing a polite smile.

Her lips didn’t so much as twitch.

“I know why you’re here,” she said icily. “But don’t think for a second that you can just waltz in here and start making changes just because Elijah gave you the green light.”

My blood simmered, but I kept my voice calm.

“I’m not here to take over. I’m here to help. We both know this department has been struggling.”

“Struggling?” Melinda arched an eyebrow. “If by struggling, you mean setting trends that models and influencers covet worldwide, then yes, we are.”

I bit back a sigh. Melinda didn’t get it. Silvermoon’s fashion brand had shifted so far into catering to the elite that it had lost touch with the people who used to support it.

My mother’s vision had been different—fashion for everyone, not just for those walking red carpets.

I took a breath.

“I’m not talking about trends. I’m talking about connecting with people. Silvermoon didn’t lead the fashion world just because we were trendsetters. We led because we understood what people wanted—what they needed. We’ve lost that connection.”

Melinda’s gaze hardened, and I could see the resistance in her eyes.

“And you think you’re the one to restore it?”

Before I could respond, a softer voice cut through the tension.

“I think she’s right.”

I turned to see a young woman standing near one of the design stations, her wide brown eyes filled with nervous excitement. Katy, I remembered her name. She was an intern, new to the department, and the only person in the room who didn’t look at me like I didn’t belong.

“Katy,” Melinda snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through glass. “Stay out of this.”

But Katy didn’t back down, though I could see the nerves in the way she wrung her hands.

“No, I won’t. Because I’m one of the people Agnes is talking about. I love fashion, but none of these designs feel like something I could wear. Or something my friends would wear.”

Her words struck a chord, and I smiled, grateful for the unexpected support.

“Exactly,” I said, meeting Melinda’s gaze. “We’ve been so focused on high fashion that we’ve alienated the everyday consumer. The people who used to believe in Silvermoon.”

Melinda let out a sharp laugh.

“The elite keep us in business. You think the average person is going to buy one of these gowns?”

“They won’t,” I agreed. “Not if we don’t design for them anymore. But they used to. My mother’s designs—Silvermoon’s designs—made everyone feel beautiful, whether they were at a gala or going to work. That’s what we’ve lost.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. I could see the gears turning in Melinda’s mind, though she wasn’t ready to admit I had a point. Her eyes flicked to the digital boards showcasing the latest designs—gorgeous, yes, but inaccessible. Even she had to know it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Melinda’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“We’ll see,” she said, her voice clipped. “But don’t expect any miracles, Agnes. Things don’t change overnight.”

I nodded. “I don’t expect miracles. I just expect us to try.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving the rest of the room in a state of awkward silence. The designers who had been watching returned to their work, their faces neutral. I wasn’t on their side yet, but I wasn’t entirely alone either.

Katy stepped up beside me, her face glowing with excitement.

“That was amazing,” she whispered. “I’ve been thinking the same thing for months, but no one listens to me.”

I smiled, the warmth of her words easing some of the tension in my chest.

“Well, they’re going to listen now. We’ll make sure of it.”

Katy’s enthusiasm was contagious, and for the first time since I’d walked into the sterile design studio, I felt a spark of hope. It wasn’t going to be easy. Melinda was clearly set in her ways, and the other designers didn’t seem eager to embrace change.

But I had Katy on my side—and Elijah. And that was a start.

As I looked around the room, at the traces of what Silvermoon had once been, I felt the weight of my mother’s legacy settle over me like a cloak. This wasn’t just about revitalizing a department. This was about bringing back the heart of Silvermoon.

And I wasn’t going to let anyone—Olivia, Melinda, or the pack’s past—stand in my way.