I fixate on the image a moment longer, zooming in, studying her tiny features, searching for even the slightest resemblance to Adrian. But it’s impossible to tell—not from the angle, and not with how soft and indistinct newborn features are. The only thing thatcouldbe his is the baby’s dark hair. Kaden’s is lighter, almost sandy blond. Then again, from the photos in the evidence folder, Adrian’s mistress was dark-haired too.
Not wanting to obsess and spiral over the details, I exit the photo and return to Kaden’s feed. Most of what’s there is private, leaving only tagged posts and shared links to scroll through. One post, though, stands out—an image of a child-sized rocking horse. The craftsmanship is flawless, the kind that immediately gives away that this is something he built.
I click on the image and it instantly takes me to an external site—a listing on an online marketplace. He’s been quietly selling his work, and as I look through the items, I realise more than half of them are already sold.
There are at least a dozen pieces in the listings—everything from wooden toys and jewellery boxes to walking sticks, kitchenware, and furniture like chairs, tables, and even shelves. I browse through them with a quiet smile, knowing exactly how passionate and talented the man behind all these creations is.
I’m still scrolling through the listings when one item stops me in my tracks. It’s a photo of the most stunning outdoor planter bench I’ve ever seen. The base and integrated planterare made from concrete, while small slabs of natural timber are embedded along the top, forming the seat. The parametric design is striking—modern, urban, and utterly unique, and I can’t help but admire its beauty.
The price is set at four hundred. Expensive, sure, but if I’m being honest, I think he may actually be underselling it. Before I can talk myself out of it, I click to order the item.
I know there are a million other things Ishouldbe spending money on, but I just can’t skim past this one. It’s the first indulgent purchase I’ve made for myself in a long time. And besides, it would look incredible in my new garden—once I finally get around to upgrading it. Maybe this piece is exactly the push I need to get things moving.
As soon as the order is complete and the confirmation email lands in my inbox, I switch off my screen and put my phone on charge, because if I don’t stop now, I might just end up buying everything else on that list too.
Chapter 23
Kaden
It’s only Monday, the beginning of a brand new week, and already I’m wishing I were anywhere but here, trapped within the four walls of my office. Emails keep pouring in as I work through them at a steady pace, yet they never seem to end. The work is tedious and mind-numbingly dull. I honestly don’t know how I’ve managed to do this, almost every day, for the past thirteen years.
When I joined the company over a decade ago, it was an escape from a shameful past that could have seen me locked up for a very long time had I not walked away when I did. I was young, naïve, and blinded by greed. I did things I’m not proud of, things that could have destroyed my entire life. I stole products and sold them online, convincing myself I was untouchable. Even though it lasted less than a year, it’s a chapter of my life I’ll always regret, and would never ever want to revisit.
Ironically, it was Skylar who pulled me out of that life and made me want more. Made me want better for myself. It tookher leaving me the first time to knock some sense into me. That was the moment I finally pulled my head out of my arse and decided to do something honest and worthwhile with my life—something she could be proud of.
So I searched high and low for a stable, secure job, handing out résumés to every company I could think of. That search eventually led me here, and I’ve stayed ever since. I climbed the ladder faster than anyone else, driven purely by hard work and a strong sense of ethics, until I landed my current role as Operations Manager.
As the responsibilities grew, so did the stress, and with it, my insecurity. I felt a constant need to prove my worth, not just to the executives of the company, but to Skylar. I never wanted her to see me fail, to think I wasn’t capable of holding down a decent job. I wanted to show her I could provide for us, for the future children we once talked about.
Instead, in trying so desperately to be enough, I ended up betraying her and destroying her trust. I threw everything away because of my own insecurities and selfish needs. And now, I sit in the very same chair I’ve occupied for years, with so little to show for it.
I suppose that’s why I’ve felt trapped in this strange limbo—needing this job, yet desperate to escape it. I’ve poured so much time and energy into this company that walking away feels impossible. But at the same time, I ache to be elsewhere, to chase something that truly excites me. After the successful sale of my products online, and with Hope’s encouragementringing in my ears, the urge to turn my passion into a real career has never been stronger.
That reminds me, I haven’t checked the marketplace app to see if anyone else has placed an order. I’m nearly sold out of all the pieces I’m selling, and if I want to keep this momentum, I’ll need to work quickly to create new ones and get them online.
A few people have reached out for bespoke designs, which I’m currently working on, but I still want more of my own designs out there. If I weren’t already working full-time, I’d probably have a storage room overflowing with items ready to sell.
I log into my account and immediately spot three new orders. Two are small items—a cheeseboard from someone in Melbourne and a wooden trinket box from a buyer in Adelaide, both of which will need to be posted out to them. The third order, however, has my eyes almost bulging out of their sockets in disbelief. Because the name on the contact information is one I know all too well: Hope McKenna.
How did she even find my listing? Unless she’d been stalking my Facebook, or had her own account on the app, there’s no way she could have come across it on her own. And, of course, she’d ordered the most expensive item on my entire listing: an outdoor planter bench. Makes sense though, given her obsession with plants.
I can’t believe she actually ordered one of my pieces. Part of me wants to feel flattered, but another part feels a little guilty. She just forked out hundreds of dollars for it, when Iwould have happily given it to her for free, especially after she helped me with my plants yesterday.
The smile on my face probably looks absurd right now, but I don’t care. The thought of Hope owning one of my pieces, and actually using it, fills me with genuine happiness.
Unable to contain my excitement, I send her a quick text.
Me:Hi Hope, I know you’re probably at work, so I’ll keep this brief. Thank you so much for supporting my work and ordering one of my pieces! I can’t wait for you to have it.
There, that should do it—nice and simple. I switch off my phone screen and set it back on the desk, forcing myself to continue plowing through the endless stream of emails. A few minutes pass when I hear my phone buzz, cutting through the dull hum of the office.
Hope:Hello, there! No need to thank me. Like I said, anyone would love to get their hands on one of your pieces. Including me :)
Me:Honestly,I’m really flattered. I have to admit, I was pleasantly surprised to see your name on the order form. How did you even find it?
Hope:I have an account with them, and was shopping around for a new garden bench. That’s when I came across your listing.
Me:I’m glad you did. Because now I know it’s going to a good home.
