9.

~CAKE~

By the time we leave the boutique, my body feels like it has been wrung out and folded back into itself.

My feet hurt. My shoulders ache, and my head feels too full.

Not once did he offer me the cake. Not once did he ask if I wanted a drink, even though there were two glasses on the table and only one of them ever touched wine.

I did not ask.

I refused to give him the satisfaction.

The staff are smiling too hard as we step out. That tight, strained kind of gratitude people wear when money has been thrown at them in obscene amounts. One of them thanks him again, says something about a complimentary gift for shopping at that level.

Shopping.

As if what just happened was normal.

They hand me a box. Then another.

A Louis Vuitton heel. A matching handbag. I stare at it, briefly wondering where exactly they think I’m supposed to wear six-inch heels too.

My life does not have sidewalks for this.

One of the security cars is loaded until it sags slightly at the back. Shopping bags disappear into it, designer logos flashing before the trunk shuts. I am handed three bags. Just three. Light enough to carry. Heavy enough to matter.

This is what I’m expected to show up with.

We slide into the backseat together. Ignacio’s eyes flick to me through the rearview mirror once. Twice. Like he’s curious. Or assessing. Or both.

Nico tells him to move the other car ahead. His voice is calm and finished, like the day has already been filed away.

The silence sat in my chest, and I realize if I don’t say something now, I never will.

“I’d like to say something.”

He doesn’t look up from his phone. Just hums once. Permission without interest.

I swallow. “I understand that my financial situation isn’t good,” I say quietly. “It’s not good at all.”

I laugh dryly. “But I was raised right. I worry about inconveniencing people. I worry about owing what I can’t repay. I worry about being a burden.”

My fingers tighten around the bag handles.

“I only agreed to this because I was cornered. And when you buy me things like that… it’s natural for me to assume you’ll want your money back someday. So what you said back there…it was unfair, and uncalled for.”

He’s still scrolling.

“I may not be the woman you want beside you,” I continue. “I don’t fit your image. But please don’t insult me over something I’m already struggling with. It makes everything I work for feel pointless.”

That’s it. I don’t beg. I don’t apologize.

The car slows, and by the time I look up, we’re already outside my house. I get down, shutting the door behind me as the car pulls away immediately, like it’s been waiting for the exact second I’m no longer inside it.

The smell of food hits me the moment I walk in.

My mother is sitting at the dining table. A plate was set, and the food is still steaming. She looks healthier than she did this morning, but only just.

“You’ve eaten?” I ask immediately, dropping the bags. “Did you take your meds?”

She nods. “I did. Twice.”

Relief loosens something in my chest. I sit across from her.

She looks at the bags. Then at me. “Now explain.”

So I do.

I told her about the bag. The money. The man. The contract. The marriage.

She slams her palm lightly on the table. “Of all people to steal from, it had to be from the Vescari family?”

“I didn’t steal mama,” I say quickly. “I woke up and the bag was gone. No broken door. No window. I was going to ask you.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t touch it.”

“So you see,” I say quietly. “I didn’t steal.”

She exhales sharply. “Can’t you pay him back? Must you marry him?”

“It’s five thousand mama,” I say. “And it’s not just about the money.”

Her face tightens. “They’re dangerous people. His father was just assassinated. And now you’re marrying his son? What if they take you to get to him? I disagree.”

“It’s one year,” I say. “And you can’t talk about it. To anyone. Ever. They would hurt us.”

She looks at me for a long time. Then nods, reluctantly. “One year,” she says. “God help us.”

“How do you know so much about these types of people mama? I hope you don’t borrow money from them?”

She scoffs, “I borrow money from them and scold you about stealing? You’re so funny, Cake.”

“I said I didn’t steal the money mama,” I whined.

She laughed softly, “I know, I know. I was only messing with you baby. I know you would never do such a thing.”

She reaches for one of the bags, rifling through it slowly. I just sat there. “Ouu, the dresses are pretty.” She smiled at me, as I nodded in response.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously. “Did he hurt you?”

It was my turn to scoff, “What makes you think anybody can hurt me?”

“Because you’ve been gloomy since you stepped foot inside this house. I made your favorite and you haven’t dug in yet.”

“I’m not hurt mama,”

“You’re scared,” she says.

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been saying that since you were twelve.” She sighs, reaches for a scarf, folds it slowly. “If this man hurts you—”

“He won’t,” I interrupt. “Not like that.”

Not physically, anyway—I guess?

“You should call Elianna,” she says instead. “She came by earlier. With that bodyguard that won’t let her breathe.”

That earns a weak chuckle. “Yes, mama.”

I go to my room and shut the door softly, the bags drop to the floor as my back hits the wood, sliding down.

Tears rolled down my face without permission. I don’t know why his words mattered, I don’t know why they hurt. Why did it make me feel small when I’ve survived worse.

And that scares me more than anything else.

My phone vibrates in my trouser pocket. I almost ignored it. I almost let myself have two full minutes of sadness. But the vibration keeps going.

I wipe my face with the heel of my palm and pull it out.

Sissy flashes across the screen.

I exhale, a weak smile tugging at my mouth. I answer. “Hey.”

“Cake Coogan, don’t you dare say hey like you didn’t see me today,” Elianna snaps. “I stopped by your house and you weren’t there. Do you know how close I was to staying and interrogating your mother? I thought that Vescari guy had kidnapped you.”

I huff a quiet laugh. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy, bae. Forgive me.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” she says. “I was worried.”

“I know, and I have so much to tell you.”

“So,” she continues, brightness creeping back in, “we’re going out. Tonight. The club from that night.”

I blink. “Javier agreed to that?”

She giggles. “I may or may not have spoken to my father and sent him on an impossible errand.”

“That man does not blink,” I say. “How did you pull that off?”

“Talent,” she says smugly. “So are you coming or not, before he realizes he’s been played?”

I glance at the mirror across the room. Puffy eyes. “Yes,” I say. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Dress to get everyone’s attention, babe.”

The call ends. I swipe at my face, straightening my jacket, and take a breath that doesn’t hurt as much as the last one.

I can’t even be sad for two minutes.