Chapter 5

That afternoon, Gilbert went downstairs for a glass of water. As he passed the living room, something made him glance into the trash can.

In the corner, a crumpled piece of paper stood out.

He walked over, picked it up, and slowly unfolded it.

It was the drawing he had given Clio.

The sun he had drawn was wrinkled now, and the little family of three had been twisted out of shape.

Gilbert stood there for a long, long time, clutching the paper in his hand.

He couldn't understand it. Clio had said she loved it, so why had she thrown it away?

A dull ache rose in his small chest, tangled with hurt and confusion.

But the next second, he found an excuse for her.

It had to be because I drew it badly. Ms. Webb was too nice to say so, so she threw it away when I wasn't looking.

Yes. That had to be it.

By the time Hestia and Dione returned to Riverside Gardens, night had fully fallen.

Dione carefully hung up the dance costume that had gone through so much that day, then turned to look at Hestia, who sat on the couch with an empty, distant expression. Her heart tightened.

"Hestia, don't waste another thought on people like that," Dione said, handing her a cup of warm water. "Getting mad over trash like them isn't worth it."

Hestia took the glass, the warmth slowly easing the chill from her fingers.

She didn't speak. She only looked quietly at the dance costume shimmering under the light. It had been Electra's dream, and once, it had been hers too.

"Dione," she said at last, her voice rough around the edges, "I want to start over."

Dione froze for a beat, then immediately understood. Her eyes lit up. "Hestia, you mean your designs?"

Hestia had graduated from a top design school, specializing in ballet costume design, and she had been the most gifted student in her class. But for Aaron, for their family, she had folded away every sharp edge of herself and willingly become the faceless woman standing behind him.

Now, she no longer wanted to be anyone's background.

She nodded, and at last, there was focus in her eyes again. "I want to rebuild my mother's brand."

"That's amazing." Dione slapped her thigh, thrilled, then suddenly grabbed Hestia by the hand. "Come on. I've got something to show you."

They drove through the night and finally stopped at a creative arts district.

Dione led her upstairs like she was unveiling a treasure, then unlocked the door to a studio. "Hestia, welcome to your new world."

The lights flicked on the moment the door opened.

Floor-to-ceiling windows. Warm wood floors. A huge worktable in the center of the room. The space was still mostly empty, but it already felt both professional and inviting.

Hestia stood frozen, hardly believing what she was seeing. "Dione, you..."

"I had this ready for you a long time ago." Dione lifted her chin proudly. "I knew there was no way a phoenix like you was going to stay trapped forever in the Harvey Family coop. I've been waiting for the day you rose from the ashes."

Warmth rushed into Hestia's chest. Her eyes burned, and all the hurt and cold she had been carrying these past few days seemed to melt at once.

"Thank you, Dione."

"Please. Don't get formal with me." Dione hooked an arm around her shoulders and immediately started planning out loud. "We're putting a giant mirror on this wall so you can check the full look, and over there we'll have shelves packed with fabric and thread in every color. And your dress form? I ordered the best one. It'll be here tomorrow."

Watching Dione look even more excited than she was, Hestia felt the heart she had smothered for years finally begin to beat again.

She opened the worn sketchbook she had carried with her and handed it over. "These are things I've drawn over the years when I had time."

Curious, Dione flipped it open at random, and her expression instantly changed.

The pages were filled with pencil sketches of costume designs.

The lines were fluid and alive. The color concepts were bold yet harmonious. In the margins, tiny handwritten notes detailed materials, cuts, and construction with striking precision.

Every sketch pulsed with life and unmistakable talent.

Dione kept turning pages, and the more she saw, the more stunned she became. Any one of these designs could cause a stir in the fashion world.

"Hestia," she said, her voice shaking a little, "you're a buried genius. Aaron is blind. Does he have any idea what he threw away?"

Hestia looked at the sketches, and for the first time, a faint smile touched her lips.

No, he didn't love her, and he had never understood her. But someone would love her designs. Someone would see her talent.

Her world would never revolve around him alone again.

Meanwhile, back at the Harvey Estate, Gilbert sat on the living room rug, staring at the drawing he had smoothed back out and placed on the coffee table. His little brows were knitted tight.

He still couldn't figure out why Clio had thrown it away.

Just then, the housekeeper, Uma Bell, came over carrying a plate of fruit. She glanced at the drawing, then at Gilbert's gloomy face, and sighed.

"Gilbert, don't be so upset. Maybe Ms. Webb threw it away by accident..."

Gilbert's head snapped up, as if he had grabbed onto a lifeline. "Right. Ms. Webb must've done it by accident."

What could he do to make Clio happy again and make her believe he really liked her?

Then he remembered something. Clio had once said she liked desserts.

"Grandma Bell," he said, running into the kitchen and tugging on Uma's clothes, "will you teach me how to make cheesecake? The one Mom never used to let me eat."

Uma looked into his bright, eager eyes and couldn't bring herself to refuse. She pulled over a little stool and began teaching him step by step.

They crushed cookies and mixed them with melted butter, then pressed the mixture into a pan. They blended cream cheese, sugar, eggs, and vanilla, then poured it over the crust. In the small kitchen, Gilbert worked until sweat dampened his forehead, but his face was full of anticipation.

When the fragrant cheesecake came out of the oven, he carefully carried the plate to Clio like he was presenting her with a treasure.

"Ms. Webb, I made this cheesecake for you all by myself. Try it."

"Our Gilbert is so talented." Clio smiled gently and pinched his cheek, then picked one up and took a delicate bite. "Mm. It's delicious. This is the best cheesecake I've ever had."

Gilbert instantly lit up. Every bit of the earlier hurt vanished.

After dinner, Clio said she was tired and asked Aaron to take her back to her room.

Gilbert returned to his own room to do his homework, but when he passed the kitchen, he happened to glance into the trash.

Several cheesecakes that had barely been touched lay quietly among fruit peels and leftovers.

His steps stopped cold.

The hurt and confusion that had hit him that afternoon came rushing back, stronger this time.

Why?

The drawing could have been an accident.

But what about the cheesecake he had worked so hard to make? She had said it was delicious, so why had she thrown it away too?