Chapter 5

My sister did not ask questions when I arrived with boxes.

She unlocked the room above her café, carried two bags upstairs, and said, "You can stay as long as you need." Then she looked at the stack of cake boards in my arms and added, "But you're not working tonight."

"I have to," I said.

"Hannah."

"I have a wedding sample due in the morning."

She looked at my face for a moment, then stepped aside. "The back kitchen is open. I'll leave the lights on."

I worked after the café closed.

The kitchen was smaller than my studio, but it was clean and familiar. I set out my tools, mixed the batter, and started over. My hands moved before my thoughts could catch up. Measure. Mix. Bake. Cool. Frost.

For a few hours, I only had to think about the cake.

The bride had asked for something soft and elegant. White flowers. Pale blue details. A simple design that looked expensive without trying too hard.

I made every petal by hand.

At midnight, I checked the cold cabinet. Everything was fine. The cream was set. The sugar flowers were firm. I covered the sample, set my alarm, and went upstairs for a few hours of sleep.

I woke before sunrise. For one second, I did not remember where I was.

Then I saw the boxes against the wall and remembered everything at once. Ethan. The report. The inspector. The messages. The house I had left behind.

I got dressed, tied my hair back, and went downstairs.

The back kitchen felt wrong before I even reached the counter. It was too warm.

I walked faster. The cold cabinet was silent.

I opened the door, and the smell hit me first.

The cream had gone soft. The frosting had separated. The white flowers I had spent hours shaping had fallen against the sides of the cake like wet paper.

I stood there without moving. Then I touched the cabinet control. Nothing.

I checked the cord. I checked the wall outlet. I checked every switch inside the kitchen. Everything looked normal.

My sister came in a few minutes later, still wearing her coat. "What happened?"

"The cabinet stopped."

She went straight to the back door and opened it. A moment later, she called my name.

I followed her outside. The main power switch was on the wall beside the alley. It had been turned off.

Not broken. Not damaged. Turned off.

My sister stared at it. "Who would do this?"

I did not answer.

Ethan knew where I worked. He knew I had moved into the room above the café. He knew I had a wedding sample due that morning because he had listened to me talk about it for weeks.

He also knew I kept cream and finished decorations in the cold cabinet overnight.

But knowing was not proof.

I took out my phone and photographed the switch. Then I photographed the ruined cake, the collapsed flowers, and the time on the kitchen clock.

My sister looked at me. "Do you think it was him?"

I swallowed.

"I don't know," I said.

That was the truth I could prove.

I threw the ruined sample into the trash, washed my hands, and pulled out fresh ingredients.

The bride would be here in a few hours.

And I had to start again.