Chapter 149

Agnes

The scent of garlic and tomatoes greeted us as we stepped inside the house later that evening. Elijah was already at the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like spaghetti sauce with the white sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms. He looked up as we entered and smiled.

“There are my girls,” he said warmly, and I felt my stomach turn to molten lava at the tender phrase. “How was your day?”

Thea hesitated, looking sheepish.

“What happened?” Elijah asked, noticing her strange look.

I sighed, giving Thea a reproachful look. “Thea got into a fight at school. She punched a boy in the nose.”

Elijah’s eyebrows shot up. “You what?”

Thea gulped audibly. Haltingly, she explained herself, wringing her hands the whole time. Elijah listened without interrupting or judging, although his face grew more stern as he heard the story. When she was finished, he said, “Well, I can’t say I blame you for getting upset, but hitting isn’t acceptable, Thea. You should know better.”

Thea nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t fully convinced. She still thought that boy deserved it. And although I’d never admit it, I thought he did, too.

“You’re grounded tomorrow,” Elijah finally said. His voice wasn’t cruel, but it was firm and left no room for argument. “No TV, no computer. Just books and quiet activities. And you’ll still do your schoolwork.”

“But I’m already suspended from school!” she protested.

“Exactly. And suspension isn’t a vacation day. It’s a consequence of your actions.”

Thea’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout, but she didn’t argue further. “Fine.”

“Now, go wash up for dinner. It’s almost ready.”

Dinner was a quiet affair. Thea pushed her spaghetti around more than she ate it, still sulking about her punishment. But by the time Elijah brought out fruit salad for dessert, her mood had improved considerably.

After dinner, Thea retreated to her room to play, and Elijah and I cleaned up the kitchen together. As I dried the last plate, I glanced at him. The sight of his strong jaw set me aflame after last night, although neither of us mentioned our night of passion.

“Elijah, in the car today,” I said hesitantly, “Thea asked me something… interesting.”

He glanced over from where he was wiping down the counter. “Oh?”

“She asked if Olivia is really her mother,” I said, keeping my voice low in case Thea was listening. “She wanted to know if we could get tested again to make sure.”

Elijah’s hands stilled. I watched his face carefully. “When you had her tested before, was it just for paternity, or maternity too?” I asked softly.

To my surprise, all the color drained from Elijah’s skin. He set the dishcloth down and leaned heavily against the counter.

“I had her tested for both,” he said quietly. “When Olivia showed up with her, she was just… there, one day. A baby in her arms that she claimed was ours. The test showed that Thea is biologically mine and Olivia’s.”

I bit my lip. “Well, Thea’s begging to be tested again.”

Elijah was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed. “I… would be willing to do that,” he said, which surprised me. “If it would help her. But I’ll need to get a sample from Olivia too, which won’t be easy.”

I considered this, uncertain. I wasn’t sure how much another DNA test would help Thea, since it would likely just confirm what she didn’t want—which was the fact that Olivia was her mother—but maybe it would provide answers. And then we could deal with the fallout later.

Later that night, after Thea was in bed and Elijah had retreated to his study, I spread out the floor of the attic, right in front of my mother’s gown. The champagne silk Thea had picked out almost shimmered under the dim light as I traced the pattern pieces onto it.

I lost myself in the rhythm of cutting and pinning, the familiar motions soothing my scattered thoughts. Hours passed as I worked, the house growing quiet around me. When I finally sat down at my sewing machine, it was past midnight, but I was too engrossed to stop now.

The bodice took shape first—structured with boning, the neckline sweeping off the shoulders in a way that was both elegant and daring. The skirt followed, the silk flowing like liquid gold as I draped and pleated it.

By the time I had the basic structure assembled, it was nearly three in the morning. My eyes burned, but I couldn’t resist trying it on to check the fit.

I changed quickly out of my clothes and into the half-finished gown. It wasn’t lined yet, and pins still dotted the seams in places, but when I looked in the mirror, my breath caught in my throat.

The dress was stunning—more bridal than I had intended, yes, but undeniably beautiful. The champagne color warmed my skin, making me look almost luminous in the soft light. The structured bodice hugged my curves before giving way to the flowing skirt.

I turned slowly, watching how the fabric moved, how it caught the light. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine walking into the party on Elijah’s arm, turning heads, dancing under the chandeliers…

And later, Elijah slowly removing the gown, his hands warm against my skin, his lips finding mine in the darkness…

Heat rushed to my cheeks at the thought, my body still pleasantly sore from our night together. It felt like a dream now—the way he had laid me down on his bed, the gentleness of his touch, his fingers dipping below the water of the tub.

I slipped out of the gown carefully, hanging it on the back of the bathroom door. The memory of last night’s passion made my skin tingle. Maybe I could go to him now, knock on his door, see if he was still awake…

I crept downstairs, pausing outside Elijah’s door. No light seeped from beneath it, and all was quiet within. He was likely asleep after his long day. I shouldn’t disturb him, no matter how much I wanted to feel his arms around me again.

With a sigh, I retreated to my own room, slipping between the cool sheets alone.

Morning arrived too quickly, sunlight streaming through the curtains I’d forgotten to close properly. I groaned, rolling over to check the time. Seven-thirty—later than I usually slept, but not surprising given how late I’d worked.

I shuffled downstairs in search of coffee, finding the pot already brewed. Elijah must have left for work already. With Thea suspended and still sleeping, I had a rare quiet morning to myself.

I settled at the kitchen table with my steaming mug, pulling out my phone to check my messages. With nothing pressing to attend to, I opened my social media app, scrolling idly through updates from friends and colleagues.

I was about to set my phone down when a new post caught my eye. My finger froze mid-scroll as I recognized the photo—Olivia, her head tilted coquettishly to the side, wearing a familiar gold locket and diamond studs.

The exact same jewelry I had picked out yesterday.

My heart dropped to my stomach as I read the caption beneath her photo.

“Can’t wait to wear my new pieces for the big day… With a dress to match!”