Page 197 of The Contract

But I didn’t. Because I need it.

I need it to start over. To finally build the life I’ve worked so goddamn hard for.

So I do what I have to do.

I step out of my apartment and into one of The Ledger’s town cars, watching the city blur past the window as I brace myself for one last visit to Lucian’s office—one final step to officially close this chapter of my life.

The driver, Felix, an older man I’ve known for years, glances at me in the mirror, offering a familiar grin.

“We’re gonna miss you, Elena,” he says as he pulls into traffic. “Not many can say they left The Ledger on their own terms.”

I force a small smile, staring out at the streets passing by.

“Yeah… I’ll miss you too. But I’m looking forward to what’s next.”

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Eve texts me the entire way, and I’m glad for it. She takes my mind off things, makes me smile, makes the car ride pass in a blur.

The drive is smooth, with no traffic. But when we slow down, something feels off.

I glance up—expecting to see the sleek, dark building that houses The Ledger’s headquarters.

Instead, my heart plummets, because we’re stopped in front of my bakery.

The one I lost.

I can’t breathe.

My dream is sitting right in front of me, and I have no idea why we’re here.

My fingers tighten around the door handle.

“What is this?” My voice is barely a whisper.

The driver shifts in his seat, looking at me through the mirror. “Lucian says to just hear him out.”

Fucking Lucian. I’m going to kill him.

My stomach twists.

I don’t want to go inside.

I can’t go inside.

But something in me won’t let me walk away either.

I take a slow breath, my heart pounding, and before I can talk myself out of it, I push the door open and step out.

The bell above the door chimes as I step inside.

And I freeze.

The scent of fresh flowers—roses, peonies, lilies, every kind imaginable—hits me all at once, overwhelming and intoxicating.

The entire front of the shop is covered in bouquets, towering arrangements, and delicate clusters of wildflowers spilling across the counters, the display cases, the small seating area I once imagined filling with customers.

It’s ridiculous.

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