Chapter 7 - The Sweetest HarvestSix months later, the heavy iron gates of the Mercer estate stood wide open, welcoming the warm, golden sunlight of a crisp Chicago spring.
Down the grand driveway, past the towering evergreens that no longer looked menacing, a bright red delivery van sat parked near the front entrance, its side emblazoned with a hand-painted wooden sign: The Golden Hearth Bakery & Cafe.
Inside the sprawling, sun-drenched kitchen of the mansion, the air smelled deliciously of warm vanilla, melting butter, and freshly baked sourdough bread.
Tommy—looking healthier, stronger, with color back in his cheeks and his hair growing back in soft brown curls—sat at the massive marble island, laughing as he licked chocolate frosting off a spatula.
I stood by the oversized oven, sliding a fresh tray of golden pastries out onto the cooling rack, wearing a clean apron over my clothes.
Heavy, measured footsteps echoed down the stone hallway.
Liam walked into the kitchen, wearing a dark button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the faint, fading scar on his forearm. He wasn't using a cane anymore; his leg had healed with miraculous strength, leaving only a slight, rugged limp that only added to his commanding presence.
He stopped behind me, wrapping his strong arms around my waist, resting his chin comfortably on my shoulder as he inhaled the sweet scent of baking dough.
“You’re going to put half the bakeries in downtown Chicago out of business at this rate,” Liam murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my neck.
“Quality control,” I teased, turning slightly in his arms to hand him a warm, freshly baked cinnamon roll on a small ceramic plate. “Besides, someone has to make sure you actually eat breakfast instead of glaring at your security reports.”
Liam took a bite, chewing slowly while his ice-blue eyes danced with amusement. “Alright. You win. It’s edible.”
“Edible?” Tommy chimed in with a grin, holding up his spatula. “It’s the best pastry in the entire state, Mercer, and you know it.”
Liam laughed—a rich, genuine sound that still occasionally startled the guards outside, but to me, it was the sweetest sound in the world.
He looked down at me, his gaze softening into a look of absolute, unconditional devotion that he reserved for nobody else in the world.
“You know,” Liam whispered, tightening his arms around me as we stood together in the sunlit kitchen, watching the morning light pour through the windows he once tried so hard to keep sealed in darkness, “hiring you was the best dangerous mistake I ever made.”
May you like
I smiled, leaning back against his chest, completely unafraid of the shadows outside.
“Not a mistake, Liam,” I whispered, sliding my hand into his. “Just a very good recipe.”
