Chapter One

Chapter One

Lana Knight moved like a shadow through the corridors of the high-security facility, her steps quiet, precise. Dressed in a crisp courier uniform and carrying a plain white cake box, she looked every inch the professional delivery worker. The fake ID badge clipped to her chest had already passed two checkpoints. So far, so good.

But this next one would be tighter.

A security guard stood in front of the final restricted wing, arms crossed, expression unreadable behind mirrored sunglasses. He stepped forward, scanning Lana’s badge with a handheld reader.

“Cake delivery?” he asked, arching a brow as he glanced from the screen to her face.

Lana offered a polite smile, shifting the box slightly in her arms. “Birthday surprise for Dr. Hesse in Lab Three. From his wife. Apparently, she’s very insistent on the ‘homemade’ touch.”

The guard grunted, still eyeing her. “Didn't know Hesse even had a wife.”

“He keeps his secrets,” Lana replied smoothly, then added with a shrug, “and apparently, a sweet tooth.”

There was a pause—just long enough to prickle her nerves—before the scanner beeped approval.

“Go on in,” he said, stepping aside. “Try not to breathe too hard in there. Some of the stuff they’re working on is twitchy.”

“I’ll hold my breath,” Lana said with a wink, then walked past before the smile could fade from her face.

Once inside the lab, her confidence remained steady. She moved quickly, efficiently. The microchip—a wafer-thin, glassy sliver tucked inside a magnetic casing—sat in an open tray near the central workstation. With a practised motion, she slipped it into a concealed pocket in the cake box’s false bottom.

As she turned to leave, her pulse quickened—not with panic, but anticipation. The job wasn’t finished until she was out. And as she walked back through the maze of corridors, past humming vents and silent cameras, she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of them was watching her just a second too long.

But she didn’t break stride.

Outside, sunlight hit her face like applause. Lana kept walking, cake in hand, her expression cool and unreadable.

With the microchip securely hidden in the false bottom of the cake box, Lana knew the hardest part was still ahead—getting out unnoticed.

She retraced her steps through the stark corridors of the facility, her pace measured, not hurried. Too fast would draw attention. Too slow might look nervous. Her eyes stayed forward, her posture confident, just another courier finishing a morning run.

A few lab-coated employees glanced up from their work as she passed. Lana met their eyes with a professional smile, her grip on the cake box steady. No one stopped her. No one asked questions.

At the final checkpoint, a guard leaned lazily against his post, chewing gum and barely glancing up. Lana handed him her forged delivery slip. For a beat, she held her breath.

The guard's eyes flicked from the slip to her face. Then he gave a disinterested grunt and waved her on.

Just like that, she was outside.

The cool morning air hit her face like a curtain lifting after a tense performance. She walked briskly toward her car, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder. As she slid into the driver’s seat, she took one last sweeping glance around the parking lot.

No sign of pursuit.

She started the engine and pulled away from the curb, only then allowing herself the faintest smile. She’d done it. Phase one was complete. At least—for now.

As she wove through the morning traffic, Lana’s mind turned quickly. She needed a place to store the microchip. Somewhere unexpected. Somewhere no one would think to look. The longer it stayed on her, the greater the risk.

And that’s when she saw it.

A narrow storefront tucked between a bookstore and a florist. Warm amber light spilled through the windows. A hand-painted sign above the door read:

“Marigold Bakery – Est. 1946”

A bell chimed gently as she parked and stepped inside.

Behind the counter stood Kurt, sleeves rolled up, dusted in flour, his jet-black hair tousled in a way that looked effortlessly stylish, like he’d just run a hand through it after pulling a tray from the oven. His dark brown eyes lifted as the door swung open—and for a moment, he stilled.

The woman who had just walked into his bakery wasn’t one of the usual early-morning regulars. She carried herself with quiet confidence, her gaze sweeping the space like someone trained to assess every angle. Yet there was nothing hurried about her.

Kurt blinked, then offered a warm, easy smile—the kind that had kept locals coming back for years.

“Morning. Can I help you?”

Lana met his eyes with a calm smile of her own. “I hope so,” she said smoothly. “I’m looking for something… custom.”

“It's a rather unique request,” she said, her voice soft but deliberate. “I need a cake. But not just any cake—it needs a hidden compartment.”

Kurt raised a dark eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in intrigue. “A hidden compartment?” he echoed, folding his arms loosely across his chest. “That’s not exactly standard bakery fare.”

“No,” Lana agreed, her smile tilting playfully. “It’s for someone who appreciates a little mystery.”

Kurt leaned on the counter slightly, studying her for a beat. “Well, I’ve always liked a good puzzle. And I’m definitely curious now.”

He pushed off the counter, grabbing a nearby notepad but barely glancing at it. “Let’s make this unforgettable cake of yours.”

As they moved to the back kitchen, something unspoken hung in the air—not tension exactly, but a hum of possibility. Lana kept her cards close, offering just enough to keep Kurt intrigued. And Kurt, with his quiet warmth and clever quips, met her mystery with something else entirely: trust.

Flour dusted their fingers. Witty remarks turned into laughter. And with each small gesture—measuring ingredients, passing utensils, navigating around one another like they'd done this before—something new began to rise between them.

Something more than cake.