But so does the fact that Leo did not let them stand.
And that matters more than I want it to.
Chapter 17
Leo
I stand alone in the bakery, the smell of sugar and yeast suddenly cloying, thick in the back of my throat.
It is the wrong smell now. Too sweet. Too alive. Like it is mocking me.
I have failed. Again.
The realization lands heavy and final, like a verdict. Not dramatic. Not explosive. Just done.
I had her. She trusted me. She did not just let me see the thing. She handed it to me. Her parents. Her fear. Her plan. That spreadsheet was not numbers. It was a heart with rows and columns.
And I did exactly what I always do.
I reached for money.
I reached for the lever that always worked before. The one that makes problems disappear. The one people thank me for later, once they realize I was right.
And this time, it shattered something.
On top of that, Marissa had to show up. Like a curse I cannot shake. Like proof that no matter how far I think I have stepped away from my old life, it is always right there, waiting to remind me who I am.
Or who I have been.
I kick the leg of the steel table.
The impact is dull. Hollow. Completely unsatisfying.
The table does not move. Does not bend. Does not care.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid.
The word repeats in my head like a chant, as if saying it enough times will make me reach the version of myself who does not screw this up. The version that knows when to stop talking. When to just listen.
Why could she not see I was trying to help?
The thought comes sharp and defensive, and I hate it even as it forms. Why did she have to make it so hard? Why did she look at my offer like it was poison instead of what it was?
An answer.
A solution.
I do not want control. I do not want ownership. I do not want her bakery on a spreadsheet or my name on a wall. I do not want to take anything from her.
I want to give her the thing she wants most.
I want to be useful.
I want, God help me, to be the hero.
