“Of course I did. HELIX is as much yours as this place. Figured you’d want them both in the same room.”
He watched her wander down the short hallway, past the guest bath and spare room, until she stopped at the doorway to her bedroom.
The space was lighter, gentler than the living area. Ivory walls catching the morning light, a low-profile bed dressed in coral and soft gray, a single teal throw folded at the foot. Built-in shelves lined one wall, filled with books and framed photos of her achievements and memories.
The last room, tucked behind a sliding glass door, was her workspace. Everything gleamed with the precision of Sloane’s engineering floors, scaled down to human comfort: twin monitors, modular tool racks, an adjustable bench, and that same stunning view over Prospect Park. On a digital board, her open HELIX schematics floated in pale blue light, the lines of code suspended midair.
“You’ll have the Forge when you need it,” Tommy said behind her, voice soft. “But I figured you’d want somewhere you could work in peace. Somewhere that’s just yours.”
Evie turned slowly, her throat tight. Every inch of this space had been designed for her, and it was perfect.
“Tommy…” she began, barely above a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He smiled faintly, eyes warm. “You don’t have to thank me, Princess. Just build something incredible.”
Chapter Twenty-Three: Addendum
After Tommy said goodbye and headed back to the Tower, Evie spent the afternoon cleaning and packing, sorting boxes into three piles depending on where they were going. She was gathering the small statuettes of saints her mother had scattered around the apartment when Della shuffled out of her room, cradling a small, ornate wooden box.
“Evie, honey, can we talk?”
Evie froze. That phrase always came before bad news. A familiar flutter of panic rose in her stomach.
“Sure, Mom. What’s up?” she asked, forcing a cheerful smile. She’d gotten good at it, good enough that neither Tommy nor Thorn could tell when it was fake.
Della crossed to the couch and set the box on the coffee table. She patted the seat beside her; her smile tinged with sadness.
Suppressing a groan, Evie joined her. Della took her hand in both of hers, and Evie tried not to flinch at how fragile she felt. Her skin was paper-thin, and the bones felt delicate beneath her fingers. Her mother’s health had declined sharply in the past three months; her skin carried a permanent yellow cast, and she spent most days asleep, too tired to finish a meal.
“So,” Evie asked lightly, “what did you want to talk about?”
“You know your father and I loved you very much, despite everything, right?” Della’s voice trembled, carrying a childlike need for reassurance.
Evie’s smile tightened before she squeezed her mother’s hand. “You guys were the best parents a girl could ask for,” she said, a half-truth wrapped in sincerity. They had given her everything: ballet instead of the hip-hop classes she wanted, shelves of educational toys, and dresses Della approved of.
Oscar’s overbearing, temperamental personality had made her cautious, always trying to keep the peace. Della, for all her gentleness, had used guilt as her weapon of choice. Neither parent was openly affectionate; praise came easily, but disappointment was never hidden.
Tears welled in Della’s eyes. She pressed Evie’s hand to her cheek, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad you think so. We did our best. Which makes this next part so hard.”
She drew a steadying breath, and Evie braced for whatever storm was coming.
“We’re not your biological parents,” Della said softly. “We adopted you as a newborn.”
Evie didn’t move. Not because what Della said shocked her - she’d suspected it for years. Oscar had been a brown-eyed redhead before he went bald, and Della was a green-eyed blonde. Evie’s nearly black hair and deep blue eyes matched neither. She just wasn’t sure how to respond without admitting she already knew.
“Oh,” she said softly. She didn’t know what else to say. She never expected Della to admit it and had decided to look into it after Della passed away.
“Your father and I couldn't have a baby,” Della explained, even though Evie hadn’t asked. “We tried for many years, andwhile I had no problem getting pregnant, staying pregnant was another thing altogether. The doctors never found a reason for it, but now I know it was God preventing Oscar’s evilness from being passed on.”
"Mom." Evie sighed. If she didn't stop her now, she would go on a tangent about Oscar being evil incarnate for a good hour, which always led Evie to question all her life decisions that got her to that point. "Don't. Please. You just told me I was adopted. Can we stick to that?"
"I'm just saying there was a reason I couldn't carry a baby to term, and I know God was intervening on my behalf." Della insisted stubbornly, her cheeks flushing.
"That's great, Mom." Evie got up and began packing things away again. There was no point in arguing or attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction; Della would keep bringing it back to Oscar being a demon.
