Sterling’s hidden heir

The bell above the door chimed, but I didn’t look up from the counter. My hands were covered in flour, and my mind was buried in bills. "One moment, please! I’m just finishing these cinnamon rolls," I called out, my voice tight with exhaustion. The bakery was my life, my sanctuary, and—if the bank had its way—my biggest failure. I had exactly three weeks to pay the back rent, or they’d padlock the doors of Sugar & Spice. "I’m not here for a pastry, Sierra." The voice hit me like a bucket of ice water. Low. Deep. Arrogant. A voice I hadn't heard in five long, painful years. My heart did a violent somersault against my ribs. I slowly wiped my floury hands on my apron and looked up. Standing in the middle of my shop was a man who looked like he had stepped off a private jet and onto a runway. Ethan Sterling. His suit cost more than my entire shop, and his eyes—those cold,familiar silver-gray eyes—were narrowed as he took in the peeling paint on my walls. "Ethan," I breathed, my throat dry. "What are you doing here?" "I own this block now," he said, stepping closer. The scent of expensive cologne and power filled the small space, suffocating me. "And I’m here to tell you that your lease is over. This building is being demolished on Monday." My world tilted. "You can't do that. I have a business. I have a life here!" "You have a debt, Sierra. One you can't pay," he sneered, leaning over the counter until he was inches from my face. "I didn't come here to negotiate. I came to watch you pack." Just as I opened my mouth to scream at him to leave, the back door creaked open. "Mommy? I finished my homework. Can I have a cookie now?" The room went deathly silent. A small, four-year-old boy with messy dark hair and startling, silver-gray eyes—the exact same eyes as the man standing in front of me—skipped into the room. Ethan froze. His gaze dropped from my face to the boy, and then back to me. The arrogance in his expression vanished, replaced by a terrifying, silent realization. "Sierra," Ethan’s voice was a dangerous whisper. "Who is this?"