The morning air was crisp, edged with the kind of chill that hinted spring hadn’t quite taken hold of Manhattan yet. Ella stepped out of the bakery, clutching a warm croissant in one hand and her phone in the other. She hadn’t meant to buy anything, not really. She’d only gone in to pass time, to feel normal for a moment in the middle of the chaos her life had quietly spiraled into.
But the smell of butter and fresh bread had wrapped around her like a hug. It had worked. For a few minutes, she forgot she was being blackmailed. Forgot about the photos that could ruin her. Forgot she was lying to her family.
She bit into the croissant as she walked, the buttery flakes crumbling against her lips, and let herself enjoy the quiet. Her phone buzzed again in her coat pocket—probably another rem
