Names flashing. Investors. Lawyers. Millions shifting in silence without him.
He didn’t pick it up.
Inside the bakery, Elena watched him carefully, as if waiting for the mask to return.
“You should go,” she said quietly. “People like you don’t stop for people like us.”
Adrian looked up. “People like me?”
“You know what I mean.”
There was no anger in her voice. Only experience.
Lila was now gently feeding Nora a small spoon of warm milk, her earlier sadness replaced by fragile focus.
Adrian stood slowly. For a moment, it looked like he would leave.
Instead, he reached into his pocket.
Not for his phone.
For his wallet.
He placed a folded card on the table.
“Come here tomorrow,” he said. “Same time.”
Elena didn’t touch it. “Why?”
He hesitated—something almost human breaking through his control.
“Because today shouldn’t be the only day your daughter learns she can have cake.”
A beat.
Then he walked out.
The city swallowed him again—glass, noise, urgency—but something inside him had already stayed behind.
