CHAPTER 17: HANDS ON THE DOUGH

The bakery manager’s name flashed on the screen. She answered immediately.

“Chloe, it’s bad. Another supplier, the big one for our premium chocolate and specialty flours just got bought out. They canceled our contract effective immediately. We’ve got a massive wedding order due in three days—two hundred custom cakes and pastries. We’re short by sixty percent. I don’t know how we fill it without this.”

Chloe’s stomach dropped. She gripped the phone tighter, eyes meeting Damian’s across the room. “Who bought them out? Marcus again?”

“Looks like it, Or someone connected. What do we do?”

Chloe pressed her lips together, the fight draining from her shoulders even as anger sparked fresh. The threats never stopped, Not even for one damn day.

********

Damian sat at the desk in his home office, laptop open to a dozen tabs of financial records and supplier ownership chains, phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. “Keep digging, I want the name behind the buyout. Marcus, my mother, or someone new. Cross every shell company.”

The investigator’s voice crackled back. “We’re hitting walls, sir. Layers of LLCs. It’ll take another day at least.”

“Make it hours.” Damian ended the call and slammed the laptop shut. The supplier attacks kept coming, chipping away at Chloe’s bakery like someone wanted her isolated and desperate. He stood and rolled his shoulders, the tension from the custody papers and the interview still knotted tight in his neck.

He followed the warm scent of baking into the kitchen. Chloe stood at the island, flour dusting her arms up to her elbows, kneading dough with sharp, rhythmic punches. Her hair was pulled back messily, strands sticking to her forehead from the effort. She didn’t look up when he entered.

“Stress baking again?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Orders are still due,” she said, not breaking rhythm. “Even if suppliers keep disappearing. I need to feel like I can fix something.”

Damian crossed the room and grabbed an apron from the hook. He tied it on and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. “Tell me what to do. I’m not standing here watching you carry everything alone.”

Chloe paused mid-knead and stared at him. “You? In my kitchen? You’ll probably try to optimize the recipe or buy me a machine that does it better.”

He stepped up beside her and washed his hands at the sink. “Try me. What’s next?”

She pushed a bowl of chocolate chunks toward him. “Chop those finer, Then fold them in, Don’t overwork the dough after.”

They worked side by side in silence for a few minutes. His knife moved steadily on the cutting board. The rhythmic thump of her hands on the dough filled the space. It felt almost normal, if he ignored the threats circling them.

Chloe broke first. “You’re tracing the suppliers, aren’t you? From your office all morning. Still trying to control the fixes instead of letting me handle my own business.”

Damian set the knife down and turned to face her. “I’m trying to protect what you built. Every time I step back, something else gets taken. The twins, the bakery, you. I’m not losing any of it.”

She wiped her hands on her apron, leaving white streaks across the front. “That’s the problem. You say protect, but it always sounds like control. You sign the marriage papers, you handle the interviews, you order security like I’m part of your assets. When does it stop feeling like I’m still the surrogate in a nicer cage?”

The words hit harder than he expected. Damian stepped closer, flour on his own hands forgotten. “Because I’m terrified, Chloe. I wake up every night checking that you’re still breathing, that the twins are still moving. I’ve spent my life keeping everything at arm’s length so no one could use it against me. You and them—you cracked that open. If I lose you now, after everything, I don’t know what’s left.”

Chloe’s hands stilled on the counter. She looked at him, really looked, her chest rising and falling faster. “You admit that out loud? The great Damian King scared?”

“Yeah.” He reached out slowly and rested his palm on the side of her belly. “I am.”

One of the twins kicked hard right under his hand. Then another, stronger, like they were answering. Damian’s breath caught. He spread his fingers wider, feeling the movement again. Chloe covered his hand with hers, pressing it gently against her.

“They’re fighting too,” she said quietly. “Even when everything else tries to pull us apart.”

He didn’t move his hand. The warmth of her skin under his, the steady kicks against his palm, the quiet of the kitchen wrapped around them. For the first time in days, the weight on his chest eased a fraction. He wanted to pull her closer, to finish what they almost started last night, but he held still, letting the moment sit.

Chloe’s thumb brushed over his knuckles. “This feels real right now. Not the contracts or the cameras. Just this.”

Damian nodded, throat tight. “It is real.”

His phone buzzed loudly on the counter, breaking the quiet. He ignored it at first, but it kept going. He glanced at the screen—PR alerts, multiple. He opened one and his stomach dropped.

Marcus had leaked excerpts from the original surrogacy contract. Headlines already trending: "King Surrogacy Contract Exposed. Payoff Clause and Custody Carve-Outs Revealed, Was the Marriage Just Damage Control?"

Chloe leaned over to see the screen. Her hand slipped from his as the color drained from her face.

Fresh notifications poured in, the scandal exploding across every platform.