Page 10 of Secret Baby for my Off-Limits Fiancé

I’m pulled back to the nightmarish reality by a polite cough.

I turn to see a firefighter in uniform standing at the entrance with a clipboard.

“Captain Beckam, with the fire department,” he introduces himself as he surveys the scene. “I wanted to give you an update on our assessment.”

“Please do.” My tone is edged with frantic urgency.

He scans his clipboard before speaking. “The good news is there doesn’t seem to be any structural damage. The walls, foundation, and main supports are intact. The bad news is that the interior is in shambles. The water damage is extensive, and the flooring will need complete replacement.”

I swallow hard. “What about the electrical system? Is it safe?”

“We checked the wiring. It appears unaffected by the flooding. However, I strongly recommend you have an electrician do a thorough inspection before you resume operations.”

Giana meets my eyes, her expression cautious but hopeful. “See, Layla? It’s not as bad as it could have been. We can fix this.”

Giana, always the optimist. But right now, I’m not sure I share her sentiment.

I tear my gaze away from the wreckage. “Thanks.”

After Captain Beckam departs, I step cautiously into the building.

The once-polished wooden floorboards are swollen and buckled, with puddles of murky water lingering in every corner. The air is heavy with damp and a faint, musty odor. Even the mirrors are fogged.

I trace my finger around the condensation, as if trying to erase the reflection of my shattered dreams.

Giana sneaks up behind me. “Come on, Lay. You can’t let this get you down.”

“Can you please not right now?” I shake my head.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out to see a text from Mom.

Dinner at my house tonight, don’t forget.

A deep sigh escapes me as I quickly reply.

Can’t make it, stuck at the shop tonight.

I tuck the phone away and roll up my sleeves. “Well, time to get to work.”

Cleaning up debris from my ruined shop isn’t how I imagined spending the night, but it’s the only thing I can do. And I have to dosomething,or I’ll break down and I have no idea if I’ll ever be able to put myself back together.

“I’ll help you,” Giana offers immediately. “You need all the help you can get.”

For hours, we’re knee-deep among piles of ruined dresses, salvaging whatever little can be rescued.

Suddenly, Cathy strides in with her phone pressed to her ear. “Thanks, Mrs. Marshall. I really appreciate your cooperation.”

I turn toward her, one eyebrow raised.

Mrs. Marshall is one of our biggest clients. “What did she say? Did you tell her what happened?”

“She’s the last client I called, to inform her and start the refund process,” Cathy explains, pressing her lips together. “Everyone’s been understanding, given the circumstances.”

I pause, letting the weight of the loss settle over me as I watch a pile of expensive fabric slip from my grasp. It feels like watching years of passion and hard work vanish before my eyes.

“Thanks, Cathy.” I manage a small, weary smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“We’re in this together, Layla. We’ll get through it. Do you need help sorting the clothes?”

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