Chapter 4: A SEED IN SEATTLE

Rain fell soft and steady on the awning of Maya’s Sweet Start, the kind of Seattle rain that soaked into your bones without you even noticing. Sophia pressed her face to the window, watching people hurry past with umbrellas like colorful mushrooms moving through the gray. She’d been back for three days, and already the city felt more like home than New York ever had.

“Earth to Soph!” Maya called from behind the counter, sliding a warm croissant onto a plate. “You’ve been staring at that street corner for twenty minutes. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Sophia turned away from the window, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The baby bump was still small – barely noticeable under the loose sweater she’d borrowed from Maya – but it was there, a gentle curve that reminded her every morning of why she was here, why she was fighting.

“Just thinking,” she said, picking up the croissant and breaking off a piece. It was flaky and buttery, perfect – exactly like everything Maya made. “About the designs. About how to get started without him finding out.”

Maya wiped her hands on her apron and slid onto the stool next to her. “You know we can do this. We’ve got the space in the back – we can turn it into a small studio. I’ve already talked to my landlord about extending the lease. He’s on board, as long as we keep the place clean.”

“I know,” Sophia said, leaning her head on her friend’s shoulder. “And I’m so grateful. But what if he finds me? What if he tries to take them away?”

She’d been replaying his message from the plane ever since she’d landed. I did what I did because I love you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. It didn’t make sense. How could pushing her away, stealing her designs, sending his lawyers after her be about keeping her safe?

Maya squeezed her shoulder. “Then we fight. You think I’m going to let some billionaire take your babies away? Not on my watch. We’ll get the best lawyers in Seattle. We’ll build a case. We’ll make sure he can’t touch you or them.”

But Sophia wasn’t sure. Alexander had money, power, connections. He could make things disappear with just a phone call. She’d seen him do it – a competitor who’d tried to undercut Cross Industries, a journalist who’d dug too deep into his family’s past. They’d vanished from New York overnight, like they’d never existed at all.

“I need to be smart about this,” she said, standing up and walking to the small table in the corner where she’d set up her temporary workspace. Sketchbooks were stacked neatly next to rolls of fabric – remnants Maya had picked up from a local designer who’d gone out of business. “I can’t use my name. I can’t show my face. I’ll have to sell online, under a pseudonym. No storefronts. No public events. Nothing that can be traced back to me.”

“Then we’ll do it that way,” Maya said, following her over. “What name are you thinking?”

Sophia picked up a pencil and traced a star on the corner of a blank page. “Stella Designs. Stella means star. Like the ones we carry inside us.”

“Stella Designs,” Maya repeated, grinning. “I love it. Now let’s get to work. I’ve got a customer who wants a custom cake for her daughter’s quinceañera – and she mentioned she needs a dress too. Perfect opportunity to test the waters.”

For the next three hours, they worked side by side – Maya mixing batter and rolling out fondant, Sophia sketching designs and measuring fabric. The bakery filled with the smell of vanilla and sugar, with the sound of Maya humming old Motown songs and Sophia’s scissors cutting through silk and cotton. It felt good – real, solid, like they were building something with their own two hands.

By noon, Sophia had finished the sketch for the quinceañera dress – deep purple tulle with silver embroidery, a full skirt that would make the girl feel like a princess. She’d even designed matching shoes, with tiny pearls sewn into the toes.

“Wow,” Maya said, leaning over her shoulder to look. “She’s going to lose her mind when she sees this. How much should we charge?”

Sophia bit her lip. She’d never charged for her designs before – when she was married to Alexander, she’d made clothes for his friends’ wives as favors, never taking a penny. But now she needed to make money. To save for the babies. To build a life that was hers and hers alone.

“Fifteen hundred dollars,” she said, surprising herself with the confidence in her voice. “For the dress and shoes. And if she likes it, she can spread the word.”

“Fifteen hundred?” Maya whistled. “Girl, you could charge double that. This is better than anything you’d find in a New York boutique.”

But Sophia shook her head. “I need to build a reputation first. Once people know what I can do, then I can raise my prices. For now, I just need to get my work out there.”

They were interrupted by the bell above the door chiming. A woman walked in – tall, with silver hair pulled back in a neat bun, wearing a tailored gray suit that looked expensive. She scanned the bakery, her eyes landing on Sophia’s sketches spread across the table.

“Those are beautiful,” she said, walking over and stopping beside them. “Did you draw them?”

Sophia stood up quickly, pulling the sketches toward her. “They’re just ideas,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Nothing serious.”

But the woman wasn’t fooled. She reached out and touched one of the pages – the quinceañera dress – her fingers tracing the lines with practiced ease. “I know talent when I see it. My name is Eleanor Vance. I own Vance & Co. – we’re a small boutique in the University District that specializes in custom clothing.”

Maya stepped forward, her hand resting on Sophia’s shoulder. “We’re not looking for a partnership,” she said, her tone protective.

Eleanor smiled – a warm, genuine smile that made her look younger. “I’m not here to partner. I’m here to buy. I saw the cake Maya made for the mayor’s birthday last week – stunning work – and when she mentioned you were designing clothes, I had to come see for myself. I have a client – a young woman getting married next spring. She wants something unique, something that tells her story. I think you could create exactly what she’s looking for.”

Sophia’s heart was racing. This was exactly what she’d been hoping for – a chance to get her work in front of the right people. But she couldn’t risk being discovered. Not yet.

“I’m not taking new clients right now,” she said, even though every part of her wanted to say yes. “I’m… busy with other things.”

Eleanor’s eyes flickered down to Sophia’s stomach, then back up to her face. Understanding crossed her features – not judgment, just knowing. “I see,” she said gently. “Well, when you are ready, my door is always open. Here’s my card.”

She handed Sophia a business card – thick, cream-colored paper with gold lettering. On the back, she’d written a number and a note: For custom work – no questions asked. We all have secrets we need to keep.

Sophia took the card, her hands trembling slightly. Eleanor Vance knew. She didn’t know what she knew, but she’d seen enough to understand that Sophia was running from something. Or someone.

“Thank you,” Sophia said quietly. “I’ll think about it.”

Eleanor nodded, then turned to Maya and ordered a dozen croissants for her staff. As she paid at the counter, she paused and looked back at Sophia. “Just remember – talent like yours can’t stay hidden forever. The world needs what you have to offer. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

Then she was gone, leaving Sophia holding the card like it was made of gold.

“That woman knows something,” Maya said, once the door had closed behind her. “I could tell.”

“Maybe,” Sophia said, setting the card on the table. “But she also just gave me an opportunity. If I can work with her – anonymously – I could build a client base without anyone tracing it back to me. Stella Designs could be real. We could be real.”

Maya grinned, pulling out her phone. “Then let’s make it happen. I’ll call her tomorrow. Tell her you’re working under a pseudonym, that you prefer to meet at off-hours, that you don’t do public events. She seemed like she’d be okay with all of that.”

Sophia looked down at her sketchbook, at the lines she’d drawn with steady hands. She’d spent so long running, so long hiding. But maybe it was time to stop. Maybe it was time to start building something that was hers – something that couldn’t be taken away.

That night, after the bakery had closed and Maya had gone home to her apartment upstairs, Sophia stayed in the back room, working by the light of a single lamp. She’d pulled out the silver button Alexander had sent her – the one from the gown she’d designed the night they’d met – and set it on the table beside her. She’d been carrying it with her everywhere she went, not because she missed him, but because it reminded her of who she was before she’d let him define her.

She picked up the button and held it up to the light. The engravings – tiny constellations – caught the lamp glow, sparkling like real stars. She’d designed them to match the ones she and Alexander had watched from the penthouse roof on their first date, pointing out Orion and Cassiopeia and telling each other stories about the gods who’d been turned into stars.

She set the button down and picked up her pencil, drawing a new design – a wedding dress with a bodice covered in tiny silver buttons, each one engraved with a different constellation. She’d call it The Stars We Left Behind.

As she drew, she felt the babies move – stronger this time, like they were dancing to a rhythm only she could hear. She pressed her hand to her stomach, a smile touching her lips.

“Okay,” she whispered to the darkness. “Let’s do this. Let’s build something beautiful. Something that’s ours.”

The next morning, Sophia woke up to Maya shaking her shoulder, her face pale with worry. In her hand, she held her laptop.

“Soph,” she said, her voice tight. “You need to see this.”

On the screen was the website for Cross Couture. The debut collection was up – and front and center was a dress called Stardust. It was almost identical to the gown Sophia had designed for Eleanor Vance’s client – the one she’d sketched just the night before.

*The caption read: Created by Cross Industries’ elite design team, Stardust represents the future of fashion – bold, beautiful, and entirely our own.

But Sophia could see the truth in every stitch. The constellations on the bodice. The cut of the skirt. Even the way the fabric fell – it was exactly how she’d described it to Maya just hours ago.

Someone had been watching her. Someone had stolen her design before she’d even had a chance to show it to anyone.

“How?” Maya whispered. “How could they have done this?”

Sophia stared at the screen, her hands clenched into fists. She knew exactly how. Alexander had said there were things she didn’t know about his company. Things that could hurt her. Now she was starting to understand.

He hadn’t just stolen her designs. He’d been tracking her. Watching her every move.

*She picked up her phone and found the message he’d sent her from the airport. They’re watching. Just know this – I did what I did because I love you.

“They,” she said out loud, her voice cold as ice. “Not him. They.”

Maya looked at her, confused. “Who’s ‘they’?”

Sophia stood up, her mind racing. She needed answers. She needed to know who was after her, who was stealing her work, who was trying to stop her from building a life for herself and her babies.

And she knew exactly where to find them.

“I’m going back to New York,” she said, reaching for her coat. “I need to face him. I need to find out the truth.”

Maya grabbed her arm. “No way. That’s exactly what they want. You can’t go back there – it’s too dangerous.”

Sophia looked at her friend, her eyes hard with determination. “I’m not going back to be his wife. I’m not going

back to beg. I’m going back to take what’s mine. And this time, I’m not leaving until I know exactly who I’m fighting.”