Alessia’s POV

“Dad… please don’t do this.”

My voice breaks as the words leave my mouth.

Tears blur my vision as I look at the marriage papers in front of me. I don’t want to believe what

I’m seeing. It feels like my whole life is about to change and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

This can’t be happening.

It has to be a nightmare.

My father lowers his head, unable to meet my eyes.

For the first time in my life, the man who has always had an answer for everything looks

completely defeated.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“I have no other choice.”

“No!” I shake my head, stepping back.

“There has to be another way.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that makes it hard to breathe.

Then…

Aloud engine rumbles outside the house.

Then another.

Then another.

My blood runs cold.

I turn towards the window.

The black SUVs pull up in front of our home.

Men dressed in black step out one after the other.

A chill runs down my spine.

Knock. Knock. Knock

The sound echoes through the house.

Nobody moves.

Before I can even blink, the front door swings open.

A tall man dressed in a black suit walks inside.

His eyes land on my father.

“Mr. Moretti,” he says calmly.

“The boss is waiting.”

…

Three days earlier…

The smell of fresh bread has always been my favorite thing in the world.

Every morning, I wake up to the warm smell drifting through our family bakery downstairs.

Before I even open my bedroom door, I know Mom is already baking and Dad is probably

making one of his terrible jokes that only he finds funny.

It’s the kind of morning that has always made me feel safe.

I pull on my apron and tie my hair into a loose ponytail before making my way downstairs.

As soon as I enter the bakery, the familiar warmth wraps around me.

Fresh loaves line the wooden shelves.

Golden croissants cool beside the window.

Chocolate cakes sit beautifully in the display case, waiting for customers.

The little bell above the entrance rings as another customer walks in.

“Good morning, Mrs. Carter,”

I say with a smile.

“My favorite baker!” she laughs.

“I hope you’ve saved my cinnamon rolls.”

“I always do.”

She winks.

“I knew I could count on you.”

For a few minutes, everything feels normal.

Customers chat while waiting for their orders.

Mom hums softly as she decorates a birthday cake.

Dad laughs with an elderly man who has been buying bread from us every Friday for almost

twenty years.

Anyone looking at us would think we were the happiest family in New York.

Maybe we used to be.

Today feels different.

The smile on my face doesn’t reach my eyes.

A strange feeling has been sitting in my stomach since I woke up this morning.

No matter how hard I try to ignore it, it refuses to go away.

I can’t explain why.

I just know something isn’t right.

“Alessia”

Mom’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

I blink and turn around.

Mom is standing in the kitchen doorway with a tray of warm cookies in her hands. The sweet

smell of butter and vanilla fills the bakery.

“Can you bring these to the front?” she asks.

“Of course.”

I take the tray from her carefully.

“They smell amazing.”

She smiles.

“For once, I think I got the recipe exactly right.”

“You always say that.”

“And I’m always right.”

I laugh softly.

For a moment, everything feels normal again.

I carry the tray to the display case and arrange the cookies one by one.

A little boy presses both hands against the glass.

“Mom,” he whispers excitedly, “look at the cookies!”

His mother laughs.

“They do look delicious.”

I smile and hand the little boy one.

“Try it.”

His eyes grow wide.

“Really?”

I nod.

He takes a bite and grins from ear to ear.

“It tastes even better than it looks!”

His happiness makes me smile.

“Have a wonderful day.”

“You too dear.” His mom replies.

The little boy hugs me before skipping happily out of the bakery.

I smile to myself.

This bakery has always been more than a business.

It’s where birthdays are celebrated.

Where neighbors stop to chat.

Where strangers leave as friends.

It’s home.

The bell above the door rings again.

Another customer walks in.

Then another.

The bakery fills with the sound of laughter, quiet conversations, and the smell of fresh bread.

Everything looks exactly the way it always has.

But something still feels wrong.

My eyes drift toward Dad’s office again.

The door is still closed.

A few seconds later, I hear it.

A muffled voice.

Dad is talking to someone.

His voice is low, almost desperate.

I can’t make out the words.

Then…

Silence.

The kind that makes my stomach tighten.

The office door opens.

Dad steps out.

For a split second, he doesn’t realize I’m watching him.

The fear on his face steals my breath.

When he finally notices me, he quickly forces a smile.

The same smile he’s been giving me for weeks.

The fake one.

A smile that never reaches his eyes.

“Everything okay, Dad?” I ask.

“Of course.”

His answer comes too quickly.

“You don’t look okay.”

“I’m just tired.”

“You’ve been ‘just tired’ for almost a month.”

For a moment, I think he’s finally going to tell me what’s wrong.

Instead, he pats my shoulder.

“Don’t worry about me.”

Then he walks away.

I watch him disappear into the storage room.

The strange feeling in my chest grows even stronger.

Whatever he’s hiding…

It’s breaking him.

For the next hour, I stay busy wrapping bread, boxing cakes, and taking payments.

Mrs. Carter insists on giving me relationship advice even though I’m not dating anyone.

Mr. Wilson spends five whole minutes complaining that the weather is making his knees hurt.

I smile to myself.

A few minutes later, Mom walks to the front of the bakery and quietly unties her apron.

“We’re closing early today.”

I stare at her.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I glance at the clock.

“But it’s Friday.”

“I know.”

“We’ve never closed early on a Friday.”

Mom avoids my eyes.

“It’s your father’s decision.”

“Are we really closing?” I ask again just to confirm.

Dad appears behind me.

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“We’re going home.”

His voice leaves no room for questions.

The bakery falls silent.

Even the customers seem to notice something feels different.

I slowly untie my apron.

As I hang it on its hook, I can’t shake the feeling that this is the last time my life will ever feel

normal.

The walk home feels longer than usual.

No one says a word.

Dad walks a few steps ahead of us with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t look back once.

Mom walks beside me, staring at the ground.

The silence feels heavy.

I keep looking at them, hoping one of them will say something.

They don’t.

All I hear are our footsteps.

I can’t take it anymore.

“Mom…”

She looks at me.

“What’s going on?”

For a moment, I think she’s finally going to tell me the truth.

Instead, she reaches for my hand.

“Everything will be okay,” she whispers and forces a weak smile.

I look into her eyes.

She doesn’t even believe her own words.

My stomach twists.

I know something is waiting for us at home.

I just don’t know what it is.

When we finally reach home, Dad unlocks the front door.

Our house looks exactly the same as always.

The flower pots are still on the porch.

The white curtains still hang neatly over the windows.

Everything looks normal.

But the moment I step inside…

The warmth disappears.

The house feels cold.

Empty.

Like all the happiness has somehow been taken away.

And for reasons I couldn’t explain, air felt too heavy to breathe.

Dad heads straight for his study without saying a word.

Mom stands in the living room, staring blankly at the family photo hanging on the wall.

It’s my favorite picture.

The three of us are smiling outside the bakery after winning “Best Family Bakery” five years

ago.

Back then…

Life was simple.

Back then…

Dad smiled with his whole heart.

Now, he can’t even look at me.

I slowly walk toward Mom.

“Mom…”

She quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

Only then do I notice how red and swollen they are.

She’s been crying.

A lot.

“Mom, you’re scaring me.”

She opens her mouth to speak.

Nothing comes out.

Instead, she pulls me into a tight hug.

So tight that it almost hurts.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

The words make my heart skip a beat.

“Sorry for what?”

She lets go of me immediately, as if she has already said too much.

Before I can ask another question, Dad’s voice comes from the study.

“Alessia.”

His voice is quiet.

Tired.

I walk toward the room, my legs suddenly feeling heavier with every step.

The study door is open.

Dad is sitting behind his desk.

A glass of whiskey rests beside him.

Untouched.

He doesn’t even like whiskey.

Why is it there?

“D…Dad?”

He slowly looks up.

His eyes are bloodshot.

I’ve never seen him look so broken.

“Sit down.”

I obey without thinking.

Mom walks into the room a few seconds later and quietly closes the door behind her.

No one speaks.

The silence goes on for what feels like forever.

My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure everyone can hear it.

I look from Mom to Dad.

Then back again.

“Can someone please tell me what’s happening?”

None of them answers.

Dad rubs his face with both hands before letting out a long, shaky sigh.

“I never wanted this for you.”

The words send a chill down my spine.

“What are you talking about?”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he opens the top drawer of his desk.

My eyes follow every movement.

Slowly…

He pulls out a thick brown envelope.

He stares at it for a few seconds before placing it gently on the table between us.

I frown.

My name is written across the front in bold black letters.

My breathing becomes uneven.

Why would my name be on an envelope?

What’s inside it?

My fingers tremble as I reach toward it.

“Open it,” my father says quietly, his voice cold despite the tears in his eyes.

The moment I pull out the papers…

My world comes crashing down.