Page 84 of When Hearts Surrender

My footsteps echo in the narrow corridor and the familiar haunted howls of the draft keep me company as I make my way toward the Elysium.

It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and I have a few hours to spare before I’m to find Melody and Mora in the kitchens to finalize the menu for the charity gala next month. The annoying wave of dizziness hits me again and I place my hands on the stone wall for support, waiting for the spell to pass.

Clutching the vintage locket around my neck, my fingers trail over each intricate petal and gemstone on the jewelry, a familiar melancholic hollow filling my chest.

I visited Dr. Chen last week for my strange symptoms, and she performed a checkup and ran some bloodwork, but everything came back normal.Perhaps it was stress,she said.

Normal. Not pregnant. Stress.

The dizzy spell passes, but the chasm widens inside me and my eyes prickle with tears. I swallow the lump in my throat.

What am I doing?Married to a man who enthralls me and infuriates me, a man who’s determined not to love me and is downright cruel at times. I’m not pregnant, not saving any animals or even volunteering at the shelter because that bastard took that away too. And now, I’m failing at saving Grandpa’s legacy.

A sob wrenches from my throat as I clutch the locket tighter in my hand.

Wiping my tears on my sleeve, I continue down the passageway and push open the secret door to the Elysium but the soft light in the room stops me in my tracks.

The antique desk lamp is turned on.

I freeze. I’m sure I turned it off before I left the room yesterday afternoon.

I must have, right?

It’s then I notice the heavy drapes are drawn shut, the sounds of the wind moaning outside more muted than usual.

Someone has been in here.

My pulse quickens as I slowly approach the desk, wondering if I’m going crazy from the stress or if it’s the house driving me insane.

Then I see the drawings.

Someone has modified them.

I started a new batch of designs yesterday after my meeting with Gordon—a collection of shawls and scarves to be made with biodegradable non-wool fabrics such as hemp, bamboo fibers, and organic cotton. I had a list of all the random, illogical “rules” Gordon gave me for this project—no wool, no long sleeves, and other idiotic restrictions—next to my drafts.

But now, instead of my original sketches, someone has merged my original and new designs together in an artistic rendition of a stunning tank top with a wraparound shawl that functions assleeveswithout being actual sleeves.

Then I notice the masculine scribbles on the side of the drawing.

I’m not a designer, but I think this would fit the rules and be quite unique, don’t you think?

A sweet warmth sweeps into my chest, chasing away the chills from earlier, and my lips twitch up into a smile.Damn him.

Maxwell. He was here, working on my drawings,my disaster. Somehow, he knew I was stuck.

Gingerly, I pick up the sketch and trace my fingers over the clean lines of the drawing, obviously rendered by someone who’s an artist but isn’t familiar with clothing design. But the concept is there.

It’s brilliant.

All along, I was trying to color inside the lines, to follow Gordon’s pathetic rules to a T when I should be bending them. If I want to be the head designer of McKenzie’s one day and follow Grandpa’s footsteps in creating innovative clothing the public can’t get enough of, I need to break the mold.

Feeling invigorated, new ideas spark in my mind and I head to the bookshelf to pull out volumes on vintage fashion I found earlier.

Smiling, I return to the desk with a stack of three leather books. I flip through the pages to find what I’m looking for and begin jotting down ideas on a new sheet of paper.

I don’t even bother opening the drapes or turning on more lights, opting to dive straight into work, the rattling of the windows from the elements outside and the creaking of the floorboards no longer bothering me.

The hours fly by as I work tirelessly at my designs, rendering sketch after sketch, ordering fabric swatches online, my mind brimming with new ideas and more questions. It’s like I’ve finally smashed through an invisible barrier and can see the finish line ahead.

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