Page 4 of Beyond Redemption

As two federal agents raising a toddler, we lived by one rule: Keep work outside the four walls of our home. We honored it without fail, until one impulsive choice born of my oldest adversary—emotion—dismantled everything.

Our last ordinary morning settled over the house the same way it always did, soft and sleepy at first, then a rush of activity. I brushed my teeth while Stella sat at my feet, singing the ABCs to her toys. Thomas stood in the bathroom doorway, knotting his tie as he smiled down at our daughter and then at me.

“Good morning,” he said, taking a step and leaning forward to kiss my cheek. “You have the intel briefing with Vargas at eight sharp, right?”

I smiled, spit, then rinsed. “Good morning, and yes.”

“Constance sent me a text,” he said, leaning down to lift Stella into his arms. “Good morning,” he cooed. “How’s my princess?”

Stella simply nodded and kissed him on the cheek in reply.

“You should advocate for a raise if she’s managing both our schedules,” I said.

“I’ve told her it’s unnecessary, but… Constance.”

“Indeed.”

“We should get going soon,” he said, carrying Stella to the kitchen.

I glanced out the bathroom window. Our neighborhood was twenty minutes from the District if traffic behaved, whichmeant at least thirty-five if it didn’t. Our sleepy little Virginia suburb, with its tree-lined streets, tidy sidewalks, and adorable downtown, was reliably quiet. If that wasn’t enough to sell us on this house, the neighbors consistently waving from a polite distance would’ve been the deciding factor. It all allowed us to pretend we lived simple lives instead of juggling federal deadlines and toddler negotiations as if they were part of the same strategic operation.

When I reached the kitchen, Stella was already seated in her highchair, swinging her legs while guiding each tiny bite of breakfast into her mouth with her fingers. Our nanny, Livvy, stood beside her, coaxing tiny bites of banana and oatmeal while Stella told a very serious story about her baby doll, partly in garbled English, the rest in garbled Japanese. Livvy nodded, her big, green eyes animated as if she understood every word.

Livvy glanced over her shoulder, smiling as I entered. “Good morning, Liis.”

Livvy had been with us for nearly two and a half years, a few weeks after we returned from Jim and Olive’s funerals in Illinois. She was just twenty-one but had the calm of someone who’d already lived several lives. Her pale blonde hair was freshly curled, so long it fell to the middle of her back when it wasn’t in a ponytail, and it rarely wasn’t. Stella’s sticky fingers seemed to gravitate toward anyone’s hair that was even partly accessible. Livvy never overshared, never imposed, never seemed to take up more space than she absolutely needed, yet the house had run smoother from the moment she arrived.

I felt a twinge of sadness, knowing how homesick she was. But Stella, college classes, and her boyfriend, Bodhi, were all sufficient and welcomed distractions.

“Morning,” I said, pulling a mug from the cabinet. “Did Dr. Lipton put in your grade, yet?”

“For the paper on gender norms in modern workplace culture? Last night. I barely got an A. I feel like she takes three points off every assignment no matter what. She’s determined to tank my GPA. Bodhi calls her The Goblin.”

Stella grinned, cheeks bulging with oatmeal. “Mama, Bodhi!”

“Yes,” I said. “He’s funny, isn’t he?”

Stella nodded emphatically, throwing her head back to look at the ceiling and then touching her chin to her chest each time.

“You still have an A in that class, don’t you?” Thomas asked, standing over his plate at the kitchen island.

“Yes, but barely a 92. It makes me nervous.”

“Because you’re used to getting 98s or higher. Didn’t you get a 106 in U.S. History?” he asked.

“I did,” Livvy said, her shoulders sagging. “Dr. Lipton doesn’t offer extra credit, and we only have a few grades in her class. It’s infuriating.”

“You’ll pull it off,” I said, taking one last bite of my bagel before putting my dish in the sink. “You’re taking Stella to the library this morning and then Brightwood, yes?”

Stella cheered, raising her banana-covered hands into the air.

“We are! Library and then Brightwood Early Academy! Yay for school! Stella is such a big girl.” Livvy gently clapped her hands as she smiled at Stella. “Picking her up after class at two.”

“You remember protocol?” I asked.

“I do,” Livvy said with a confident nod.

I sipped my coffee, amused at Stella’s theatrics. “And dinner with Mr. Walker tonight?”