Chapter 213 THE LAUNCH.
Chapter 213 THE LAUNCH.
AVERY’S POV:
I stood before the building, the one that had once crumbled under neglect, faded dreams, and layers of dust thick enough to bury a future. Two months ago, I’d taken it back from the baker — a deal no one expected, and even fewer understood. What stood here now… wasn’t just a revival. It was a resurrection. And this time, it bore our names.
The launch was set behind the building, in the garden I’d personally designed from scratch — rows of blush peonies, golden orchids, and white jasmine climbed arched trellises like they were ascending into heaven. Strings of warm fairy lights crisscrossed above the seated guests like constellations. A string quartet played a soft, whimsical tune, and even the air felt sweeter, almost enchanted.
People arrived in tailored suits and silk dresses, their expressions a blend of awe and confusion. I welcomed them with a smile that didn’t quite reach the truth. After all, I wasn’t just launching a stuffed animal company today.
I was launching a front for something far darker — and far more necessary.
My heels clicked against the polished stone tiles as I led the guests through the new facility. “This way,” I said, gesturing toward the main building. “Let me show you what we’ve built.”
The inside smelled like fresh linen and subtle vanilla. Sleek glass panels divided workstations, while state-of-the-art manufacturing equipment lined the production floor like art installations. Plush animals in every imaginable color and character filled illuminated display cases — vibrant elephants with velvet trunks, moon-gray bunnies with soft lavender ears, cloud-white bears that practically sighed when touched.
One guest picked up a sunflower-yellow lamb and gasped, “It’s like hugging a dream.”
Exactly.
“These aren’t just toys,” I said, stopping beside a rotating shelf of miniature unicorns with iridescent manes. “They’re companions. For children who need comfort. For those who’ve lost more than they should’ve. Each one is a symbol — of resilience, of hope.”
They clapped. Cameras clicked. The press began to murmur words like visionary, savior, and the one that made me want to laugh — miracle.
But no one knew that beneath the floorboards and velvet smiles, a different kind of operation existed.
Not even a whisper passed about the loft downstairs— the secret space Axel had once used to stockpile MedixGen’s black-market meds, or the missing black box. We’d converted it into a concealed packaging zone, complete with ventilation, UV sterilization, and an automated conveyor that fed through the soft, squishy insides of each stuffed animal.
They weren’t just comforting companions. Some of them were filled with cocaine — tightly packed, precision-placed, and impossible to detect unless you knew what to look for. And no one did. Except Baron, the Red Hand team, and me.
I guided the tour to its final stop: the executive wing. "Only authorized personnel beyond this point," I said sweetly. That didn't stop the cameras from flashing as they tried to peek past the frosted doors.
The launch rolled into its second act — food stations serving miniature art on spoons, a violinist who played Beyoncé like it was Vivaldi, children posing with their favorite plush friends. As the crowd was swept into the spectacle, I slipped away to my office.
I shut the door behind me, the noise fading like the outside world didn’t exist anymore.
The room smelled faintly of cedarwood and fresh ink. The walls were a calming matte cream, textured subtly like paper. I had chosen a minimalist aesthetic — Axel’s taste. Everything had to have a purpose. A place. Even the sadness.
The desk was custom-built — black oak, matte finish, and topped with only the essentials. A clean MacBook. Two fountain pens. A tray of unsigned papers. The nameplate gleamed in gold: Mrs. Avery Blackwood, Acting CEO.
I glanced at the wall behind me.
His photo was there — Axel, in a charcoal suit, eyes half-lidded, smirk eternal. The frame was heavy glass, anchored deep into the wall. As if to say: he never left.
I breathed.
Shut off the flat screen TV broadcasting the launch. The media’s endless cycle of praise was starting to sound like static. “The media and their nonsense,” I muttered under my breath, arranging the final batch of invoices and documentation.
I could feel it — the turning of tides.
Everything was going exactly the way I’d envisioned.
A knock at the door.
“Ma’am!” It was Ashley — breathless, wobbling slightly on six-inch heels that screamed money and poor decision-making.
She stumbled into the room, panting, holding out her iPad like it held the secret to the universe.
I tilted my head, squinting. “What is it?”
She jabbed at the screen, lips parted, no words yet.
And then — I saw it.
The real-time value chart of the company. Skyrocketing. A bold red arrow slicing upward.
“The company’s value went up by 200 percent,” she breathed, eyes wide like she couldn’t believe her own words. “This has never happened before.”
I stared at her. Silent.
“This means—” she began. “Whatever production we make for the next six months has already been ordered,” I finished, exhaling slowly. Not from relief. From satisfaction.
“Amazing,” I said with a small smile. Not because we were sold out.
But because this... this changed everything.
It meant no one would question the amount of inventory we were shipping. No one would raise eyebrows about trucks leaving the compound at midnight or orders that didn’t appear on public logs.
It meant we were finally operating under the radar — under the veil of glitter and childhood dreams.
The media was already calling me the redemption of the Blackwood name. They praised me for building what no one believed in. For taking a broken legacy and turning it into salvation. One outlet even confirmed the rumors — that I was pregnant.
The world had started asking if I’d already moved on from Axel.
But I hadn’t.
Not in the way they thought.
Axel was still here. In the walls. In the company. In the plan.