𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝟖

Sadira stood behind the counter, still gripping the business card between her fingers, her thumb running absentmindedly over the silver embossed letters. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. The polished marble counter felt cold against her palms as she leaned on it, staring at the door where Davis Maclean had just walked out. The man had come in like a storm-sharp, precise, and leaving her world in disarray.

A lawyer? Why would she need a lawyer?

She flipped the card over in her hand, her heart thudding loudly in her chest as she reread the name: Davis Maclean, Esq. She couldn't shake the confusion that gripped her, and the weight of the papers he'd left behind seemed to press down on her soul. The scent of his cologne, a lingering trace of black orchid, still clung to the air, mixing with the sweetness of her bakery. It was a strange contrast-one she hadn't been prepared for.

The smell of cupcakes and warm vanilla sugar should have brought her comfort, but right now, it did nothing to settle her nerves.

This can't be happening. Her thoughts spiraled as she glanced down at the legal documents on the counter. The words blurred together-court appearance, testimony, incident. She didn't want to touch them. It felt like if she didn't pick them up again, this whole nightmare might fade away. But she knew better.

Sadira blinked, feeling the pressure build behind her eyes. She wasn't someone who usually cried, especially not in her bakery where everything was supposed to be a symbol of joy and warmth. The bright, delicate hues of the desserts-white frosting with pink and gold accents-mocked her, like they were taunting her for believing she could escape into this life, untouched by the chaos that lived just outside her doors.

"Why?" she muttered under her breath, the word escaping before she could stop it. Her voice trembled as she tried to comprehend why her bakery, her sanctuary, was now tied to something so ugly. She pressed her lips together, biting back the frustration and fear bubbling beneath the surface.

She'd seen the aftermath of the incident, sure. The flashing blue and red lights, the sirens that had become all too familiar in this neighborhood. She remembered the cluster of people gathered outside, the whispered conversations, and the grim faces as they looked toward her shop like it had become part of the chaos. But she hadn't been involved. Not directly.

So why did she have to be dragged into this?

Her eyes drifted back to the card in her hand. The name looked official, powerful even. And Davis Maclean-he carried himself like someone who knew exactly how to handle things. But that didn't make any of this easier. In fact, his sudden appearance only left her more confused. His sharp suit, his confident demeanor-it was as though he walked into her world with all the answers, but gave her none of them.

"Okay," she whispered aloud, more to herself than anyone else, trying to convince herself she had control over this situation. She set the card down on the counter, staring at the neat pile of papers next to it. "I just need to figure this out."

But the more she stared, the less she understood. She knew one thing though-her bakery was her livelihood, her passion. She couldn't afford to lose it. And if appearing in court was the only way to protect it, then she had no choice. No matter how overwhelming this felt, she had to defend her space, her dream.

The thought of standing in front of a judge, of having to explain her role as an owner, made her stomach twist. Her hands trembled slightly as she wiped them on her apron, trying to ground herself. Breathe, Sadira. Just breathe.

Her mind wandered back to Davis. His presence had unsettled her in ways she didn't fully understand. He had been calm, collected-almost too calm, like he'd already predicted how this would play out. And that unnerved her. Who was this man, really? And why was he so invested in her case?

Does he really want to help? Or was this just another job to him, another way to benefit from someone else's misfortune?

She shook her head, trying to dispel the doubts clouding her thoughts. This wasn't the time to overthink his intentions. She had bigger problems to deal with, and Davis Maclean, for better or worse, seemed like the key to handling them.

Picking up the card again, she held it between her fingers, staring at the number. She bit her lip, feeling torn. Part of her wanted to crumple it up and pretend this never happened. Go back to baking her cupcakes and muffins, wiping down the counters with a smile, and serving her customers like today was just another ordinary day.

But things were different now.

The moment she'd seen those sirens flash outside her door, something had changed. She had to face the reality that her bakery, as cozy and warm as it was, wasn't immune to the harshness of the world beyond.

With a deep sigh, Sadira tucked the business card into her apron pocket, her fingers brushing against the smooth edges. She would call Davis. Not because she trusted him completely, but because she had no other choice. This was her bakery, her life-and she would fight for it, no matter how confusing or scary it all seemed.

And as much as Davis Maclean had unsettled her, something about him told her that he wasn't going to back down either.

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