Chapter 77

FREYA

I hummed softly as I layered the custom-order cake with buttercream frosting. The rhythm of my work—the smooth glide of the spatula, the sweet aroma of vanilla—filled me with a quiet, bubbling joy.

“You look too cheery today,” Avery said with a smile, leaning on the counter and eyeing me with narrow interest.

I glanced at her and smiled. “I am,” I said casually, though I couldn't conceal the curve of my lips. Cheery wasn't the word for it—I was effervescent. My pregnancy, the news growing inside me, was too wonderful to keep secret any longer. Tonight, I would tell Aiden, and I could almost see his face light up with excitement.

“Yeah, what’s making you so giddy?” Avery asked, her curiosity evident as she crossed her arms.

I paused, savoring my secret. “Good sex!” she guessed, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin.

“No!” I replied sharply, though her bluntness made me laugh.

She shrugged. “The first thing that came to mind,” she said, cocking her head. “That’s all that comes to my mind these days.” I raised an eyebrow at her honesty, brushing frosting from the cake. “You’re lonely.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” she admitted with a sigh, her voice vulnerable.

“You should start dating again,” I suggested, reaching for another piping bag. After fifteen years of marriage, Avery and her husband had divorced amicably, but it left her drained and shaken. Only recently had she mentioned considering dating again.

She shrugged, her eyes softening. “Also true.”

As I smoothed the crumb coat, inspiration struck. Carlos! Why hadn't I thought of it sooner? He was perfect for her—single, a passionate cook, and incredibly kind beneath his tough exterior. Avery and Carlos shared a love of food and a fiercely guarded, deeply craving hearts.

Gosh, they’d be perfect together.

“Great, I know exactly who to set you up with,” I said excitedly. “You two will be fantastic together.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m not holding my breath.”

“Just come to my place for dinner this weekend. You can meet him there.”

She snorted. “You’re going to play matchmaker? Set me up with your boyfriend?”

I laughed. “No. Just be there, okay?”

She paused, then nodded. “Okay!”

Before I could say more, my phone rang loudly on the counter. I scowled and answered. “Hang on.”

“Hello?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Avery mouthed, pointing. I nodded and turned to the call.

“Sorry, who’s this?”

“Noah.” The name sent me reeling. “Why are you calling?” My voice snapped with surprise and anger.

A tiny, terrified voice crashed over me, sending icy dread through me.

“Mommy?”

(Page Break)

2:01 AM Chapter 77

My heart pounded as I froze. “Gia?”

“Mommy, please, I wanna go home,” my daughter sobbed, each word tightening my chest.

“Sweetie, what happened? Where are you?” My voice quivered with panic.

“With me,” Noah said slickly.

My fingers tightened around the phone as fury and fear battled. “Why do you have my daughter, Noah?”

“That’s not the question,” he said calmly, making my stomach churn. “You should be concerned about what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to get into the car parked around the corner. Come alone, don’t tell anyone. And don’t call your boyfriend; my men are watching you. Don't be smart; you know what happens when I get angry.”

The air felt thin. I gasped for breath, memories of Noah’s temper surfacing.

“Don’t touch her,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’ll be there. Just don’t hurt her.”

“Tick-tock,” he said before hanging up.

The silence was deafening. I was paralyzed. My daughter, my sweet Gia, was in the hands of a man I had run from.

I pushed myself up, shoving my phone in my pocket and running from the cafe. The cool air didn’t clear the fog in my mind. I scanned the street and saw it—a sleek black car parked exactly where Noah had said.

My feet slowed. Every instinct screamed at me to turn around, call Aiden, call the police. But Noah’s threat echoed in my head. I couldn’t risk it. Not with Gia’s safety at stake.

The driver rolled down his window, his face unreadable. “Give me your phone.”

I hesitated. My phone was my lifeline. Giving it up felt like surrendering hope.

“Hand it over,” he repeated firmly.

With shaking hands, I gave him my phone. He motioned to the backseat.

“Get in.”

My legs felt like lead as I got in. The leather was cold against my skin. My heart raced.

I closed the door. As the car moved, I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

It’s going to be okay, I told myself, though the words felt hollow. It has to be. For…