Chapter 60: Thank you

The evening rolled in, and the rush inside the bakery finally began to die down. The sweet aroma of freshly baked bread still lingered in the air as Clara tied on an apron one last time to help clean up.

"Lily and Silvia, you two go ahead," she said, waving them toward the door. "If I make you stay any longer, the mansion staff will accuse me of kidnapping."

Silvia laughed. "More like they’ll accuse you of overworking us."

"Same difference."

The two girls giggled before saying their goodbyes and heading home.

Once the bakery fell quiet, only Clara and Gen remained, wiping counters and stacking trays in comfortable silence.

After a moment, Clara leaned against the display case and tilted her head.

"So..." she began casually, "are you liking it here? You know... working with us and all."

Gen stopped arranging the cups and blinked in surprise.

The question caught her off guard.

It had only been a few days since she had wandered into the bakery, hungry, homeless, and desperately looking for work. Looking back, she still couldn’t understand why Clara had trusted a complete stranger.

Honestly, most people would’ve called the police.

Or security.

Or both.

But Clara...

Well, Clara had simply offered her an apron.

Gen turned toward her employer—though calling Clara a boss still felt strange.

The woman stood there waiting patiently, not with suspicion but with genuine curiosity.

A small smile slowly appeared on Gen’s face.

"To be honest... I still don’t understand why you hired me."

Clara shrugged.

"I ask myself that every morning too."

Gen burst into laughter.

"See? That’s exactly what I mean."

Clara grinned shamelessly.

"I’ve never claimed to make sensible decisions."

"I noticed."

The two shared another laugh before Gen’s expression softened.

"But... since you did trust me..." she continued quietly, "I can honestly say I’m really happy here."

She glanced around the little bakery.

"Everyone has been kind to me. Lily, Silvia... even the regular customers are nice."

Her gaze eventually settled on Clara.

"And you..."

She hesitated for a brief second. "I never had an older sister growing up. No one to nag me for skipping meals or remind me to rest."

Clara folded her arms. "I nag already?"

"You absolutely do."

"I’ve only known you for a few days!"

"You started on the first day."

Clara blinked.

"...Fair."

Gen laughed again before finishing softly. "So... yes. I like it here. More than I thought I ever could."

For a second, Clara simply stared at her. Then her entire face brightened.

"Perfect!" she declared dramatically. "Then don’t get too comfortable."

Gen frowned.

"...Should I be worried?"

"Absolutely."

Clara pointed proudly at the bakery.

"Because one day this place is going to become ridiculously famous."

She spread both arms as though unveiling a grand empire.

"We’ll have lines stretching around the block."

She pointed toward the road outside.

"People will fight over our cinnamon rolls."

Then toward the ceiling.

"We’ll open another branch."

Another finger.

"Then another."

"And another?"

"And another!" Clara nodded enthusiastically. "Soon I’ll be a terrifying businesswoman."

Gen raised an eyebrow.

"You?"

"What does that mean?"

"You smile at customers until they buy extra cookies."

"...That’s business strategy."

"No."

"It absolutely is."

"It isn’t."

"It works, doesn’t it?"

"...It does."

"There."

Clara crossed her arms triumphantly.

"When we become rich, I’ll even give you a raise."

Gen chuckled helplessly.

"You really don’t have to."

"I know."

"Then why say it?"

"Because it sounds motivational."

Gen shook her head, laughing all over again.

She didn’t care about a higher salary.

Having a roof over her head, warm meals, and people who treated her like she mattered already felt like more than she deserved.

Ever since her mother’s passing, she had believed the world had no place left for her.

Yet somehow...

She had found herself here.

Maybe the world wasn’t as cruel as she’d once thought.

Or maybe...

Clara was simply an exception.

The bakery was finally spotless.

Clara stretched until her back gave a satisfying crack.

"Oof. That’s enough being responsible for one day."

She switched off the lights before locking the front door behind them.

"I think it’s officially time to go home."

Gen nodded.

"It is."

They walked together for a short distance before reaching the intersection where their paths separated.

"I’ll see you tomorrow," Clara said, waving.

"See you tomorrow."

Gen waved back before heading toward the opposite street.

She remembered her refrigerator was almost empty, so she decided to stop by the neighborhood grocery store before returning to her apartment.

Completely unaware... across the dimly lit street, a lone figure silently stepped out of the shadows.

And as Gen disappeared around the corner... the shadow followed.

***

By the time Clara returned to the Sterling mansion, she expected the usual sight of Butler James waiting near the entrance with his warm smile and customary, "Welcome home, Madam. How was your day?"

Instead, the moment she stepped into the living room, a bright, familiar voice rang out.

"You’re back!"

Clara stopped in her tracks.

There, lounging comfortably on the sofa as if she owned the place, was Hannah.

Clara blinked.

Then blinked again.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "Shouldn’t you be crying dramatically in some corner while eating ice cream and writing Eric’s name with a broken heart?"

Hannah’s smile instantly vanished.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"Why does everyone assume I’m still crying over Eric?"

Clara shrugged innocently.

"Because last night you cried enough to fill a small swimming pool."

"I was drunk!"

"You were also singing."

"I wasn’t singing."

"You were."

"I was expressing my emotions."

"You rhymed heart with cart."

Hannah buried her face in her hands.

"I hate you."

"No, you don’t."

"...Fine. I don’t."

She let out an exaggerated sigh before leaning comfortably against the couch.

"Eric is history now."

Clara studied her for a few seconds.

No tears.

No red eyes.

No dramatic sniffing.

"Good," Clara nodded in satisfaction as she walked over and dropped onto the opposite sofa. "Because if you were still crying over that idiot, I’d personally knock some sense into your head."

"You always threaten violence."

"I prefer calling it emergency therapy."

Hannah couldn’t help laughing.

"You really have issues."

"So I’ve been told."

After the laughter settled, Clara crossed one leg over the other.

"Anyway..."

She pointed at Hannah.

"You still haven’t answered my question."

"What question?"

"What are you doing here?"

Hannah smiled sheepishly.

"Well..."

She rubbed the back of her neck.

"I actually came to see you."

Clara looked behind herself.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Not Dominic?"

"No."

"Butler James?"

"No."

"The chef?"

Hannah laughed. "Definitely not."

"Then that’s concerning."

Hannah shook her head before her expression gradually turned sincere.

"I also came to say..." She paused. "...thank you."

Clara stared at her for two whole seconds. Then she frowned.

"For what?"

"..."