Page 161 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

He nodded calmly, as if he hadn’t just handed her the impossible.

She stood there in the middle of the room, gaping at him. He reached down to grab the photo he’d dropped and held it out to her. She gasped. It wasn’t just any photo—it was a photograph of the Memory Wall at Starlight.

He’d been trying to recreate it—here, in this house.

She pressed her hand to her mouth. The room blurred, swimming behind a film of tears she couldn’t blink away fast enough.

“Ark.” His name came out broken. “How—when⁠—”

“I started the morning after my father’s surgery,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t sleep. Oromon was already in town, so I asked him how fast he could get a crew together.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. “This is the only way I know how to love you when you wouldn’t let me do it in person.”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stand there, holding his hand, letting the magnitude of it wash over her. This man—who had every reason to walk away after what she’d done—had spent his grief building a home for her children.

She told him, “To think I was so frustrated with your mother. She burst into my home this afternoon, scared off my buyers, my real estate agent . . . It all makes sense now.”

He blinked, his expression shifting into alarm. “Buyers? Cassia—were you selling your house?”

The way his voice dropped on the last two words made her chest ache.

“I didn’t have another option,” she said quietly. “The eviction gave us fourteen days. The only asset I could use to secure a new home for the children was⁠—”

“Your house.” He said it like he’d been punched.

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

He was quiet for a long moment. Then, roughly: “How close did it get?”

She let out a watery chuckle. “They were picking out wallpaper for the living room.”

Something passed across his face—grief, fury, tenderness, all braided together. He pulled her close, pressing his mouth against her hair. He held her for a long moment, his jaw resting against the top of her head, his breath unsteady. She could feel him processing it all. Then he exhaled, pressed a kiss to her temple, and stepped back.

“Come,” he said, voice low and a little hoarse. “Let me show you what we’ve been working on.”

They walked the main hall, the hush between them filled with golden light and settling dust.

He led her into a wide, sun-filled room. Bare walls, bare floors—but the light poured in like a promise.

“The sitting room,” he said. “Large enough for everyone to gather. Imagine it—a fire in the hearth, books on the shelves. A place to read, to talk. A place where you and the children can settle without fear of having it ripped away.”

Across from it, a dining room with high ceilings and bare walls, but Cassia could already see the long tables filled with chatter, mismatched bowls, Matilde swatting a hand snatching an extra roll with mock severity.

“The kitchen is just through here,” Ark said, leading her into the heart of the house.

It was enormous, equipped with an equally enormous hearth. Bright windows lined one wall, facing what would become the backyard—maybe an herb garden. Counters stretched along either side, the beginnings of cabinetry taking shape. Even half-finished, it already smelled faintly of cinnamon and something warm she couldn’t place.

“I had Oromon enlarge the kitchen,” Ark said, almost bashfully. “I figured anyone who feeds an entire orphanage on a daily basis would need the room.”

Cassia ran her hand along the counter. “Mrs. Thimble is going to cry when she sees this.”

He looked over at her with that rare, quiet delight he reserved only for her. “Good tears, I hope.”

“The best kind.”

From there, he moved fluidly through the rest of the first floor—the unfinished library with tall shelves waiting to be filled, the bright music room complete with a grand piano, and an adjacent solar that would become a space to play and rest. Cassia didn’t interrupt. She only watched him—her chest too tight to even say a word.

He wasn’t just building a home. He was building a future—for the children of Starlight.

Upstairs, Ark explained that two large dormitories would take shape where smaller rooms once stood.