로그인The bakery was finally clean. The last tray had been washed, the counters wiped, and the floors swept. Even the flour that had somehow ended up scattered across the room during their ridiculous little battle had disappeared. Lydia stood near the entrance, checking the lights one last time. "Everything's done." Adrian looked around the empty space. "Finally." Lydia smiled. "You sound exhausted." "I am." "You barely did anything." "I carried boxes." "You carried six." "Exactly." She laughed as Adrian picked up his jacket from one of the chairs. "Come on." "Where?" "I'll take you home." Lydia glanced at him. "I can drive." "I know." "But?" "I want to." She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay." The drive back to the penthouse was quiet—not uncomfortable, just peaceful. New York moved outside the windows, illuminated by streetlights and glowing storefronts. Lydia sat beside Adrian, watching the city pass by. Every now and then, she caught herself smiling. She di
The last customer left at nine-thirty. The bell above the door rang softly as the woman stepped onto the sidewalk, carrying a small white box filled with strawberry-rose pastries. Lydia stood behind the counter and watched until she disappeared into the crowd, then turned the sign on the door to CLOSED. For a moment, the bakery became strangely quiet—no customers, no ringing phones, and no orders being called from the kitchen. There was only the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic outside. Lydia exhaled. "Finally." From behind her came a tired voice. "Finally." She turned. Adrian was standing near the kitchen entrance with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his apron still tied around his waist, and flour on his cheek. Lydia stared at him. "What?" She pointed at his face. "You have flour." "Where?" "Your cheek." He wiped the wrong side. "Here?" "No." He wiped the other side. "Here?" Lydia laughed. "Still no." Adrian frowned. "Where i
Saturday morning arrived with the kind of chaos Lydia had almost forgotten she enjoyed. The bakery was already busy before ten: the espresso machine hissed continuously, the ovens were running, and Julian was calling out orders from the kitchen while two employees rushed between the counter and the tables. Lydia stood behind the register checking the morning inventory when the bell above the entrance rang. She looked up and froze. Adrian Wolfe walked into the bakery. He wasn't wearing his usual tailored suit, carrying his laptop, or surrounded by assistants. He was wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up—and in his hand was an apron. Lydia stared at him. "What are you doing?" Adrian smiled. "Working." She looked at the apron, then at him. "You?" "Me." "You don't know how to bake." "I can learn." Lydia laughed. "Who told you that you could come back here?" "You." "I did not." "You said I was welcome at my wife's bakery." "I said you're welcome
The morning after Lydia's interview aired, Vera barely slept. She had watched the video three times. The first time, she had felt embarrassed. The second time, ashamed. By the third... she couldn't bring herself to watch Lydia's face anymore—especially when Lydia talked about Noah Sterling, the man who had founded Lydia's Heart, whose memory she had carried quietly for years. Vera had spent weeks reducing that history to one cruel sentence: a billionaire's wife playing bakery owner. Now the entire city knew the truth, and Vera knew exactly how wrong she had been. She sat behind the counter of Lin's Bakery, staring at the untouched coffee in front of her. Business was quieter than usual, not because everyone suddenly hated her, but because the attention had shifted. Vera's phone buzzed with a message from the school: Parent meeting requested regarding Ethan Lin. Her stomach tightened. That afternoon, Vera waited outside the school counselor's office. Ethan sat beside her, lo
The morning after Adrian's legal team sent the formal notice, Lydia's Heart was surrounded by cameras. News vans lined the street, reporters stood near the entrance, and customers slowed down as they walked past. Everyone wanted the same thing: the truth. For days, Lydia had avoided the media. She didn't want to turn her personal life into entertainment, but now the accusations were affecting her business. Her employees were being questioned, her suppliers were nervous, and strangers were debating her marriage online. So, Lydia finally agreed to one interview—not because she wanted attention, but because she wanted to tell her own story. The interview took place inside the bakery after closing. A local business journalist named Rachel Morgan sat across from Lydia at one of the small tables near the window, with a camera positioned between them. Adrian stood several feet away. He wasn't part of the interview, nor was he answering questions—he was simply there. Rachel smiled p
The situation had become worse overnight. By Saturday morning, Lydia's Heart was still open, but the atmosphere inside the bakery had changed. Customers whispered. Some stared at Lydia when she walked past. Others quietly checked their phones while waiting for their orders. The video of Vera's accusation continued circulating online. And every few minutes, another notification appeared on Lydia's phone: Is it true that Mr. Wolfe owns the bakery? Why is a billionaire's wife pretending to be a small business owner? Did Adrian Wolfe pressure other businesses to make room for his wife's bakery? Lydia tried not to read them, but she had read enough. Her chest felt heavy. She stood behind the counter, watching Julian supervise the kitchen. He looked exhausted. Everyone did. "We should close early," he said quietly. Lydia shook her head. "No." "Are you sure?" "We're not going to run because someone accused us of something." Julian nodded. "But we need to respond."
Lydia watched him for a heartbeat, the reality of his presence finally breaking through her shock. Before he could take another step toward the furnace, she moved. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in the damp of his jacket. "Noah," she sobbed. Noah froze for a split second, hi
Adrian didn't sleep that night.The penthouse lights stayed on until dawn, the chocolate torte long abandoned on the coffee table, one bite missing like a ghost of her presence. He paced the living room, replaying the hospital hallway exchange, the returned five million, the dead phone number, the
Lydia stepped out of the examination room with the envelope clutched tightly in her hand. Too tight. The thin paper crinkled under her grip, but she didn’t loosen it. Inside it—seven weeks of a truth she wasn’t ready to face. Seven weeks of something that could destroy what little control she had l
The pen in Lydia Hart’s hand trembled violently. Not just a slight shake. It quivered like it carried the weight of everything she had lost—every silent morning, every unanswered question, every night she had spent staring at a door that never opened for her. Three years. Three years… reduced to a







