The email arrived on a Friday afternoon, when the bakery was slow and Sloane was up to her elbows in pie dough.
She didn't see it at first. Jade did.
"Sloane." Jade's voice was strange – tight, controlled. "You need to look at this."
Sloane wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the computer. The screen showed an email from an address she didn't recognize. The subject line: "The Truth About Cole Thorne."
She clicked it open.
Ms. Thorne,
You don't know me, but I'm a friend of Victoria Ashford. She wanted me to pass along a message: she's pregnant. And Cole is the father.
She has proof. Dates. Records. She's willing to go public unless you meet with her.
No police. No lawyers. Just you.
Come alone.
There was an address. A coffee shop in Belltown. A time: 4 PM today.
Sloane read the email twice. Then a third time.
Her hands didn't shake.
"I'm calling Cole," Jade said.
"No."
"Sloane—"
"No. I'm handling this myself."
"Victoria is a snake. She'll twist everything you say."
"Then I won't say much." Sloane took off her apron and hung it on the hook. "I'll listen. I'll watch. And then I'll come home."
Jade grabbed her arm. "What if it's true? What if she really is pregnant?"
Sloane looked at her best friend. "It's not."
"How do you know?"
"Because Cole told me everything. Every foster home. Every scar. Every woman he's ever been with. He didn't hide Victoria – he told me they went on one date, two years ago, and he never saw her again." She touched Jade's hand. "I trust him."
Jade searched her face. Then she nodded slowly. "Fine. But I'm coming with you. I'll wait outside."
"Deal."
---
The coffee shop was in Belltown, a trendy place with exposed brick and overpriced lattes. Victoria sat in the corner, wearing a cream-colored dress that draped over her stomach – not obviously pregnant, but not not pregnant.
She looked up when Sloane walked in. Her smile was sharp.
"You came."
"You said you had proof." Sloane sat down across from her. No coffee. No small talk. "Show me."
Victoria slid a manila envelope across the table. Sloane opened it.
Inside were photographs. Cole and Victoria at a restaurant – dated two years ago. A receipt from a hotel bar. A text message exchange that looked... suggestive.
"The dates line up," Victoria said. "I'm eight weeks pregnant. The timing matches the last time we were together."
Sloane set down the photos. "You weren't together."
"Excuse me?"
"Cole told me about your 'date.' One dinner. You spent the whole time asking about his net worth. He never called you again."
Victoria's smile flickered. "People lie."
"Cole doesn't. Not about things that matter." Sloane leaned forward. "You're not pregnant. Or if you are, it's not his."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know him. I've seen him at 4 AM, exhausted and honest. I've held him while he cried for his aunt. I've watched him learn to knead dough in a pink apron." She tilted her head. "He's not perfect. But he's not a liar. And he's definitely not stupid enough to sleep with you and forget to mention it."
Victoria's face went red. "You think you're so special."
"I think I'm loved. That's different."
Victoria stood up. Her hand pressed to her stomach – a theatrical gesture, meant to provoke. "I'm going to the press. I'm going to tell them everything. The affair. The baby. The way he abandoned me."
Sloane stood too. She wasn't tall – five-four in her bare feet – but she didn't flinch.
"Do it," she said.
Victoria blinked. "What?"
"Do it. Go to the press. Tell them your story. And then Cole's lawyers will take your story and tear it apart. They'll demand a DNA test. They'll subpoena your medical records. They'll find out if you're really pregnant – and if you are, they'll prove it's not his." She stepped closer. "And when they're done, you'll be left with nothing but legal bills and a reputation in tatters."
Victoria's face went pale.
"I'm not threatening you," Sloane said. "I'm telling you what will happen. Because I've seen Cole fight. I've seen him protect the people he loves. And you're not one of those people."
The coffee shop was quiet. A few customers stared. The barista pretended not to listen.
Victoria grabbed her purse. "This isn't over."
"Yes, it is." Sloane's voice was calm. "You're going to walk out of here, and you're never going to contact us again. Because if you do, I will personally make sure every newspaper in Seattle knows about the time you tried to blackmail a billionaire with a fake pregnancy."
Victoria's mouth opened. Closed. She turned and walked out, her heels clicking on the floor.
The door swung shut.
Sloane stood there, her heart pounding, her hands steady.
Jade appeared from the bathroom, where she'd been hiding. "Holy shit."
"Did you hear everything?"
"Every word. You were terrifying."
"I was calm."
"That's what made it terrifying." Jade hugged her. "Come on. Let's go home."
---
Cole was waiting at the apartment when they got back.
He was pacing – back and forth, back and forth, his phone in his hand. When he saw Sloane, he stopped.
"Jade texted me," he said. "About Victoria."
"Then you know."
"I know she's lying. I never touched her. Not after that dinner. Not ever."
Sloane walked to him and took his face in her hands. "I know."
"You believe me?"
"Of course I believe you." She kissed him – soft, sure. "You're not a liar, Cole. You're a man who wears a pink apron and burns pancakes and cries at his aunt's funeral. You don't have the capacity for that kind of deceit."
His shoulders sagged with relief. "I thought – when Jade said she wanted to meet you – I thought you might—"
"Might what? Leave you? Doubt you?" She shook her head. "Never. That's not how this works. We're a team. Which means when someone comes after you, they come after me. And I fight back."
He pulled her into his arms. "I don't deserve you."
"Stop saying that."
"It's true."
"It's not. And even if it were – I'd still choose you. Every time."
He held her tighter. Jade slipped out of the apartment, giving them privacy.
They stood in the kitchen, wrapped in each other, the city humming below.
"I want to have a baby," Cole said. "Soon. Not because of Victoria. Not because of anything except us."
Sloane pulled back and looked at him. "You're sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
"Then let's not wait."
She took his hand and led him to the bedroom.
---
Three weeks later, Victoria's lies caught up with her.
A tabloid ran a story – not about Cole, but about Victoria. Someone had leaked her medical records. She wasn't pregnant. She'd never been pregnant. The whole thing was a fabrication designed to extort money.
Cole's lawyers sent a cease and desist. Victoria went silent.
Sloane didn't gloat. She didn't say I told you so. She just baked.
Frankie's was thriving. The original bakery was thriving. Jade and Marcus were officially a thing – hand-holding, inside jokes, the works.
And Sloane was late.
Not late for a meeting. Late.
She stared at the calendar on her phone, counting days. Twenty-eight. Thirty-two. Thirty-five.
No period.
She didn't tell Cole. Not yet. She wanted to be sure.
She bought a test at the drugstore – the kind with the digital readout, no squinting at lines. She took it in the bathroom of the bakery, while Jade distracted customers with free samples.
Two minutes felt like two years.
The screen blinked.
Pregnant.
Sloane sat on the edge of the bathtub and cried.
Happy tears. Scared tears. Tears for Nana, who would never know. Tears for Frankie, who had wanted this so badly. Tears for Cole, who had been afraid to hope.
She wiped her face, tucked the test in her pocket, and walked downstairs.
Cole was at the counter, drinking coffee, wearing the pink apron. He'd been helping with the morning rush – learning to work the register, to smile at customers, to say "Have a great day" without sounding like a robot.
"Sloane? You're crying. What's wrong?"
She walked to him. She took his hands.
"Nothing's wrong. Everything's right."
She pulled the test from her pocket and set it on the counter.
Cole looked at it. His face went pale. Then red. Then something Sloane had never seen before – wonder.
"You're pregnant?"
"We're pregnant."
"When? How? I mean, I know how, but—"
"Three weeks ago. After Victoria. You said you wanted to try. We tried. It worked."
Cole picked up the test. His hands were shaking.
"I'm going to be a father," he said.
"You're going to be a father."
"I don't know how to be a father."
"You'll learn. Like you learned to knead dough. Like you learned to make pancakes. One day at a time."
He set down the test and pulled her into his arms. His face buried in her hair. His body trembling.
"We're having a baby," he whispered.
"We're having a baby."
The pink neon sign flickered. The bakery hummed. And somewhere, in a kitchen that existed only in memory, two women sang off-key and smiled.