Chapter 9 

My partner said he’d be flying out soon to check in on me and help with some local expansion. 

We’d been in business together for years, so it was hard to say goodbye. 

Didn’t expect him to follow me out here–but I was more than glad he did. 

For now, I’d only rented a tiny workspace and had just one assistant. 

Every afternoon, I’d take him downstairs for a slice of cake from the coffee shop on the first floor–our little reward for surviving another hellish workday. 

The baker was this sweet, soft–spoken girl, couldn’t have been taller than five–two, voice like melted sugar. 

My assistant got so flustered every time she spoke to him, it was kind of adorable. 

One afternoon, he was buried under a mountain of reports and badly needed a sugar fix. 

So I headed down to grab him a slice. 

But the place had just sold out. 

The owner, Sloane, told me to hang tight–she was baking up a fresh batch. 

I sat at the bar while I waited, scrolling through emails, when something from the café’s TV caught my ear. 

They were saying Lena’s name. 

I looked up. 

She was on–screen, being interviewed, a sparkly ring catching the light. 

“We’ve never seen you wear a ring before–is this a recent engagement?” the reporter asked. 

Lena gave a small shake of her head. 

“No. I’ve been married for five years. We just never made it public until now.” 

Cue the dramatic gasps and heart–eyed/congratulations. 

Someone asked, “Why didn’t you announce it earlier?” 

“Was there a reason to keep it private?” 

That’s when Lena’s expression shifted–like she was trying to look heartbroken but still hold back tears. 

She looked straight into the camera and said, “Because I made him angry.” 

Re–enant for Throo Months My Husband and Sons Locked Me in a Coffin 

34.8% 

“And I didn’t deserve to be acknowledged.” 

Boom. 

That one line shot her straight to the top of every trending list online. 

Within minutes, fan edits were everywhere–clips of her “tragic love” set to piano ballads and slow–motion filters. 

I couldn’t even tell if it was just bored netizens or if she’d actually hired a PR team. 

Watching it felt like choking on a bug. 

Sloane came out of the kitchen with a tray of steaming cake and saw the look on my face. 

“Jeez,” she laughed. 

“You look like you just found a cockroach in your lemon tart.” 

I pointed at the TV. 

“You should pay damages for emotional trauma.” 

“That broadcast nearly ruined my appetite.” 

Sloane chuckled and handed me an extra slice. 

“Emotional damage, huh? Here, on the house.” 

“Try this new flavor and give me a review.” 

I didn’t argue. 

Took the cake and let her distract me from the mess I’d left behind.