Page 108 of The Contract

To prove—to myself, to the world—that I was more than what I had been.

That I wasn’t just another girl passing through, making temporary plans in someone else’s life.

I feel stupid now, for letting myself believe it could all fall into place so easily.

That for once, something I wanted wouldn’t be just out of reach.

I let out a slow breath, pressing my fingers against my temples.

Crying won’t change anything.

Raging won’t get the building back.

I could call Nina, demand answers. Who bought it? Why now? But even if I knew, what would it change?

The contract with Damien is almost over. The money is coming. But it won’t come fast enough.

It’s done.

Over.

I lost.

The thought cuts deep, but there’s nothing I can do.

So, I won’t stand here on the sidewalk, looking like a lost little girl who just had her favorite toy snatched away.

No.

Instead, I’ll do the only thing that has ever comforted me.

An hour later, I’m in Damien’s kitchen.

Music playing.

Mixer on.

My best friend is on the phone, talking me down, and I’m blending a smooth and creamy cheesecake batter.

The scent of dark chocolate and espresso fills the kitchen, warm and rich, wrapping around me like a cocoon. The music plays softly in the background—something smooth, low-tempo jazz, the kind of music that would fill the air of an intimate café. The kind of place I wanted to build.

The kind of place that was supposed to be mine.

I push the thought down, focusing on the rhythm of my movements. Mix, pour, smooth, bake.

Baking has always been my escape, my therapy. There’s comfort in the precision, in the control. The way the right balance of ingredients, time, and temperature can transform something raw into something exquisite.

That’s what I do. I create.

And tonight, I need to create something extraordinary.

I think of the dessert Damien ordered that first night at Ember & Ash—the indulgent, over-the-top chocolate espresso mousse cake.

Of course, he would pick the most decadent thing on the menu.

A smirk tugs at my lips as I pour the glossy, dark chocolate filling into the crust, the aroma of coffee threading through the air.

A Dark Chocolate Espresso Cheesecake with a Salted Caramel Drizzle.

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