All Chapters of Marked By Mistake: The Baker's Secret: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Ivy's POVI almost told him that night.He walked me to my car after leaving my father's house, snow falling thin and half hearted around the porch light, and something in the careful, searching way he studied my face told me he had noticed more than he was letting on, though he did not say so, and I stood there in the cold with the whole truth sitting right behind my teeth, close enough to taste."Roman." I made myself start, heart hammering. "There is something I need to tell you. About tonight. About everything, really can we talk?.""I am listening." He said it gently, patient in the way he always was, though something careful had settled into his expression too, like a man bracing for weather he could feel coming but could not yet see.I opened my mouth, and the words simply would not come, five years of practiced silence closing back over the confession like water over a stone, and I watched something in Roman's face shutter slightly in response, disappointment carefully smoothe

Ivy's POVI did not sleep that night either, the pendant cold and heavy in my palm long after my father had gone to bed, his voice still echoing in my ears, fragments of a history he had only given me in careful, incomplete pieces, enough to frighten me, not nearly enough to understand.A bloodline. A pack destroyed before I was born. A name even he dared not say out loud, not until he was certain, not until he had found some old contact he swore still existed, someone who might know more than he currently trusted himself to explain correctly.He’s told me his story of how he met my mother, was unprecedented for a human to marry a strong Luna of such bloodline, yet their love conquered, but the battle was far greater, still more I don’t really understand yet from what he explained, and I plan to get to the bottom of my history.I spent the next few days doing what research I could on my own, careful and quiet, searching the library's modest local history section for anything that migh

Roman's POV Alpha Cassian Vane had the particular, polished arrogance of a man who had never once been told no and did not intend to start hearing it now, and he found me at the spring gathering with the deliberate, unhurried confidence of someone who considered the conversation already won before it began."Darkwood." He clasped my hand with more force than strictly necessary. "I hear congratulations might be in order soon. Your cousin's wedding, I mean. Though I confess I had heard other rumors too.""Rumors travel faster than truth these days.""Do they." His smile did not reach his eyes. "My sister Larkspur has expressed considerable interest in a formal introduction, Roman. I understand you have been otherwise occupied, but surely even an Alpha as thoroughly distracted as yourself can spare an evening for a conversation that could genuinely benefit both our territories."Across the room, I caught sight of Ivy deep in conversation with Theresa, laughing at something, utterly unaw

Roman's POV I spent the better part of the following week making a careful, deliberate point of it, small things, nothing dramatic, asking rather than suggesting, checking rather than assuming, and watching, with a kind of quiet, patient relief, as some of the old wariness slowly eased out of Ivy's shoulders every time I did."You are doing the thing again," she said, catching me mid-question about whether she would prefer Hazel's birthday party at the bakery or at Darkwood's grounds, amusement warm in her voice."What thing.""Asking everything twice as carefully as you need to, like you are afraid one wrong word is going to send me running.""Is it working?""Yes." She said it simply, honestly, something soft crossing her face. "It is working, Roman. Thank you."Ivy had gone quiet for most of the following week, not distant exactly, but careful, as though the conversation at dinner had left her turning something over she was not yet ready to share, and I did not push, learning slow

Ivy's POV The walk from the bakery to my car had never once felt dangerous before, two short blocks I had made a thousand times without a second thought, and it was not until I was halfway down the second one, keys already in hand, that the particular, prickling wrongness I had learned to trust over the winter crawled cold up the back of my neck.Footsteps. Behind me, matched carefully to my own pace, close enough to be deliberate.I did not turn around. Some old instinct, sharper now than it had ever been before Roman's training sessions, told me turning around would only confirm I had noticed, and I quickened my pace instead, heart hammering, phone already half out of my pocket.The footsteps quickened too.I broke into a run the last half block, fear overriding every careful instinct to stay calm, and made it to my car with shaking hands, locking the doors the instant I was inside, chest heaving, scanning the dark street behind me for any sign of who had been following.Nothing. E