CHAPTER 1

Calista's POV

The cheap white tulle of my wedding dress dragged mercilessly through a puddle of dirty water outside St. Jude's Chapel, and honestly, it felt like the most accurate representation of my entire life right then.

Five years. I had spent five solid years pinching every penny, waking up at four in the morning to bake custom orders, and turning down nights out with friends, all because Julian promised that every single cent was going toward our future. Our dream pastry shop. Our little home.

And now, here I was, standing alone in a rented gown with a rapidly wilting bouquet of white peonies, waiting at an altar that was never going to be used.

My phone buzzed against my palm. I pulled it out, expecting a frantic text from Julian about a flat tire or an emergency with his mother. Instead, it was a notification from our joint business account. Balance: $0.42.

Then came the text message from my landlord, sharp and merciless: “Calista, your storefront lease payment bounced. If you don’t clear the remaining balance of four thousand dollars by tonight, I’m locking the doors and throwing your equipment out.”

My breath hitched. My fingers went completely cold, the phone slipping slightly against my skin.

Before I could even process the dizzying panic spinning behind my eyes, another notification popped up—a text from an unknown number containing a single screenshot. It was a photo of Julian grinning on the deck of a private yacht, his arm wrapped tightly around a woman whose family owned half the real estate development companies in the city. The caption attached from a group chat read: “Cheers to the payout. That naive little baker never saw it coming.”

The heavy oak doors of the chapel swung shut behind me with a hollow, echoing thud. My chest caved in, the air rushing out of my lungs all at once. Five years of sweat, burnt fingertips, agonizing early mornings, and blind, stupid trust—wiped out in a single afternoon.

By six o'clock, the autumn rain had turned the city streets into a gray, slick blur.

There was no grand apartment for me to return to anymore. The landlord had been as good as his word; my apartment locks had been changed an hour after his text, and my meager belongings—two cardboard boxes of clothes and my grandmother’s copper mixing bowls—were sitting right on the concrete sidewalk, getting soaked by the relentless downpour.

I sat directly on top of the damp cardboard boxes, pulling my shivering knees up against my chest. The rented white wedding dress was completely ruined, stained with brown mud at the hem and soaked through to my skin. Hundreds of people walked past me under a sea of black umbrellas, their eyes sliding right past the pathetic figure huddled against the brick wall. Nobody stopped. Nobody asked if I was alive or if I needed help.

A sharp, hot sting burned at the back of my nose, but I refused to let the tears fall. I had cried enough tears for a lifetime over a man who didn't even use his real name on his burner accounts.

My stomach gave a hollow, painful twist. I had exactly twelve cents in my pocket, no home, no business, and a mountain of fraudulent debts attached to my name thanks to Julian’s identity theft. I was at rock bottom. There was nowhere left to fall.

Suddenly, the deep, aggressive roar of a high-performance engine cut through the steady hum of the rain. Before I could look up, a sleek, matte-black European luxury sedan tore around the corner, plowing directly through a massive, neglected pothole right beside the curb.

Splash.

A tidal wave of freezing, oily gutter water crashed over the sidewalk, completely drenching me from head to toe. The cardboard boxes holding my entire life dissolved instantly into a soggy, useless mess.

The car didn't even brake. It didn't slow down for even a fraction of a second. It just sped off into the gray evening, leaving me shivering, dripping, and shaking with a cold, blinding rage so intense it momentarily pushed away the grief.

I stood up slowly, wiping the filthy water from my face, my hands trembling as I stared down the tail-lights of the retreating car. Whoever was inside that vehicle had just destroyed the last few fragile things I owned in this world.

Enough was enough.

I grabbed one of my ruined cardboard boxes, tore off a soggy piece of cardboard, and gripped it tightly. I didn't know who owned that car, and at that moment, I didn't care. If the universe wanted to kick me while I was down, it was going to find out I still had teeth.