9. Ginevra
9
GINEVRA
A small sigh of disbelief escapes my lips as I stare at the bold, red letters on the sign ahead. SOLD.
The word glares back at me, mocking the dream I had so carefully crafted. My breath catches, and I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut.
Just last week, I was buzzing with excitement, my mind alive with visions of what I’d turn this space into—a vibrant hub for my bakery business. I could almost smell the buttery, sweet aroma that would fill the air, see the colorful walls, the glass cabinets filled with delicate pastries, the shelves stocked with baked treats.
But now, it’s gone. All of it.
And I know exactly who’s behind this.
When I got the news earlier today from my agent, I just knew I had to come see it with my own eyes. Maybe it was because I didn’t believe it. The last time I checked, there were only two other people competing for the building—a middle-aged man who wanted to open a local bookstore and a married couple who were farmers and wanted to create a food market. I was the highest competitor, and my payment should have been finalized this week.
Then, this happened.
When my agent told me the final sale price, I didn’t argue. There was no point—it was far beyond anything I could compete with. All I could do was nod and hang up, stunned.
A wave of betrayal crashes over me, confirming what I already knew.
Dario.
The name is like a sharp stab, deeper than I want to admit. I hate that I feel especially broken that he’s the one who did it. It shouldn’t hurt this much, but it does. If someone else had taken the building, it may have been easier to swallow. But knowing Dario—Dario, of all people—only acquired it only to spite me, to hurt me, knowing it would get to Lorenzo, too...it makes my blood boil.
My jaw tightens as I turn away from the building, my heels clicking angrily against the pavement.
Glancing at my watch, I remind myself not to be late for my meeting with Bakers United, the city’s tight-knit group of bakers. Their support has been invaluable throughout this process, from business advice to helping me find my footing with the locals.
I cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll have some solution to this mess.
The sidewalks are bustling with people, their laughter and chatter very fitting for the clear weather. When I reach the familiar Audi—Lorenzo’s spare car, which I’ve been driving—I’m painfully reminded of all the sacrifices I made to get to this point.
When Lorenzo faced his first major setback with the construction company, I knew it was the wrong time to approach him for financial help.
First, he’d refuse, reminding me that I didn’t need to work. And second, his hands were full, buried under mountains of debt and creditors. I had already burned through most of my savings, so I did the only thing I could—I sold two of my cars, leaving only the Porsche, which was now blown to bits.
I fumble with the keys, the metallic sound jarring against my mind. I can’t shake the image of Dario’s smug grin in my head—the way he always seems to orchestrate our family’s misfortunes from the shadows. My pride won’t let me confront him ever again. My reaction will only give him the satisfaction he craves, and I refuse to beg him for help or acknowledge his role in my downfall.
The car purrs to life, and I pull out into the streets. The coffee shop where I’m supposed to meet with a few members of the union isn’t too far from here, so I don’t bother playing any music. I can’t wait to hear the solutions they’re willing to offer when I tell them of my predicament.
Soon, I arrive at the small building situated in a quiet area of the city. After finding a good spot in the parking lot, I grab my purse before stepping out of the car.
When I enter the cozy coffee shop, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelops me like a warm hug. I quickly scan the room, searching for the familiar faces of my partners turned friends.
In a far corner, I spot the three familiar figures huddled together at a small table. Mark, a tall man with a scruffy beard, glances up but quickly averts his gaze when his eyes meet mine.
As I get closer, I see Lucy, with her bright red hair, but her usual warm smile isn’t on her face. Instead, she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Sophia sits beside Lucy, with soft brown curls framing her face and her lower lip between her teeth, biting nervously.
Something is wrong.
“Hey, thanks for meeting me,” I say, trying to muster a smile, but it feels forced. They nod, barely meeting my gaze. The atmosphere is tense, thick with unspoken words.
As I settle into the empty chair, I notice their body language—hunched shoulders, eyes darting across the room. It’s almost as if they don’t want to be seen with me.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice steady despite the unease creeping in.
Lucy plants a smile on her face as she gestures to the cup before me.
“We ordered your usual.”
But I don’t even glance at it. My stomach is tied into knots.
Mark finally clears his throat.
“Ginny, we...we need to talk.” His voice is low, almost a whisper, as if he’s afraid someone might overhear.
“That’s what we do whenever we meet. We talk.” I chuckle nervously.
Lucy bites her lip, glancing at Sophia for support. “With everything that’s happened...it’s just...” she starts, but her words trail off.
The weight of their hesitation hangs in the air between us.
I feel a lump forming in my throat. “You’re scaring me. What is it?”
Mark shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “We’ve decided...it’s best if we withdraw our support for your bakery.” His words hit me like ice water, freezing the moment.
I had a feeling that this would happen, but still, it doesn’t shake the shock that rolls through me.
“Withdraw?” I repeat before protesting in a slightly raised voice. “But I thought we were a team!”
“I know, I know,” he replies quickly, his eyes darting around the café again. “But with the scandal, we can’t afford to be associated with you right now. It’s...it’s just too risky for us.”
Tears burn in my eyes, and I struggle to keep them at bay.
“Please just...” I pause to grit my teeth. “The situation with my family is only temporary, and it has nothing to do with the bakery--”
“It has everything to do with it,” Mark says, then sighs. “Your family’s name has a bad rep right now. Our own businesses will be affected if we proceed with this partnership with you.”
“My family’s problems don’t concern you in any way,” I say in a hard voice. “It’s not as if we’re opening a business together or something. I’ll do my own thing while being a part of the union. I just need to be in a community.”
I hate how desperate my voice sounds. I hate that they’re right. This is going to affect their businesses, as well.
I grab Lucy’s hand, grasping for the last straws of compassion.
“You know it’s literally impossible for me to start my business here if I don’t have support from a union,” I tell her. She’s always been kindhearted. She’ll understand.
“Ginny.” She doesn’t look into my eyes. “I think it’s really selfish of you to even argue with us on this. You come from a wealthy family. Though you’re facing some mishaps, you’ll be able to recover from this.”
I pull my hand away from hers, her words chaffing at my heart.
“However,” she continues, turning to look at me, “if we get dragged down into your mess, our businesses may never recover.”
Her words sting even more than the betrayal I feel. I bite my lower lip till it draws blood. My frustration bubbles over, and in a moment of clumsiness, I knock over my coffee cup. The dark liquid spills across the table. Just what I needed. I fumble to grab napkins, my face burning with humiliation as I wipe up the liquid.
Sophia speaks up for the first time, her expression filled with genuine regret. “We’re really sorry, Ginny. We wanted to help, but we have to think about our own businesses, too.”
I look at them, feeling the sting of betrayal wash over me. I’ve always admired Lucy’s passion and resilience, Mark’s business acumen, and Sophia with her gentle demeanor was like a sister to me. But now, they’re treating me like a pariah. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave me to fend for myself?”
They exchange glances, distress etched on their faces. Lucy leans forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “We wish it could be different, truly. But we can’t be seen around you right now.”
The weight of their words crushes me. I sit back in my chair, the warmth of the coffee shop suddenly feeling cold. I can’t believe they’re kicking me out of the community they promised would offer support.
“Fine,” I say, forcing the words out between clenched teeth. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess there’s nothing more to say.”
As I stand to leave, I catch a glimpse of their faces—averted eyes, shameful expressions—and the anger hits me hard. They don’t have any right to look as if they regret what they did. If they could do it again, they would.
I feel the anger bubbling up inside me as I walk out. I had trusted them and believed they would stand by me. Now, I’m left to grapple with the harsh reality that even those I thought were allies can turn their backs when things get tough.
As I step out into the bustling street, the sunlight feels harsh against my skin. My mind is racing, and I need someone to talk to, even if it’s to vent my frustrations.
When I slip into Lorenzo’s car, I dial Rinaldo’s number, my heart pounding. I know he’s not the most affectionate person sometimes, but he knows how much this bakery meant to me. I’d call Lorenzo, but he’s been too busy, and I don’t want to bother him.
The moment Rinaldo answers, I don’t hold back. “Rinaldo, you won’t believe what just happened. The building I was planning to buy got sold. I wasn’t even informed that there was a new competitor. And now, the Bakers United kicked me out of their union.” I chuckle humorlessly as a tear slips down my cheek. “They just abandoned me. I also think that asshole Dario is trying to sabotage me again. I hate him!”
“Ginny, calm down,” he replies, his voice annoyingly calm. “Dario? Do you mean Dario De Luca? Why would he try to sabotage your little bakery business?”
“What?” I exhale a breath, a jaw in my head ticking at the genuine disbelief in his tone.
“He might be your brother’s rival, but I don’t think he has the time to involve you in their mess.”
He says it so condescendingly that I’m genuinely short of words.
Taking my silence as acceptance, he continues, “You’re going to be a housewife soon. You shouldn’t stress over business matters.”
His words strike a nerve. “A housewife? Is that all you think I’m good for?” I yell. “Before you met me, I’d always had plans to open my own bakery. Do you think I’m just going to sit around while you make decisions for me just because we’re getting married?”
“Here you go getting angry again,” he huffs, and I imagine him rolling his eyes. “Honestly, maybe this is for the best. The universe is trying to tell you something. Maybe you should have never bothered yourself with this in the first place?—”
“This is not for the best,” I scream. “I can’t fucking believe you.”
He blows out a breath, and I can hear his irritation through the line. “Fine. It’s not for the best. It’s just a phase, Ginny. You’ll adapt,” he snaps.
“No, I won’t.” I don’t care that I’m shouting now. I’m so fucking done. “This is my dream! If you can’t support me, then I’m done with this engagement!”
Silence stretches between us, thick and charged. I can almost hear him processing my words. “You’re being unreasonable,” he finally says, but the fire inside me won’t be extinguished.
“You’re so fucking selfish.” I chuckle harshly. “I wonder why I’ve put up with this sham of a relationship for too long.”
“Mind your words, Ginny,” he warns, but I don’t have it in me to care.
“Fuck you, Rinaldo. Fuck your condensation, your random mood swings, and your attitude. Fuck your selfish dreams for what’s supposed to be our future.”
“Ginny—”
“I’m done,” I declare, the finality of my words crashing over me like a wave. I hang up before he can respond, my heart racing with mixed emotions. Anger, hurt, relief.
I drive home, the city whizzing by in a blur. The streets are filled with people chatting and laughing, but I feel like a ghost. Empty. Invincible. Alone.
“Dario, you think you can just ruin my life and walk away?” I mutter, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I think I’m going crazy. “I won’t let you get away with this.”
As I pull into my driveway of Lorenzo’s house, the sun is slowly dipping behind the horizon, creating an orange hue that bathes a warm color across the lawn. The house looms ahead, stark and quiet, mirroring my frustration. I step inside and toss my bag onto the couch, the sound echoing in the empty space.
I hate him. I hate him so much. I’m desperate to show Dario that I’m not a pawn in his game. That I’m a player, and I won’t back down. But the resolve is drowned by my sorrow. The only gripping need within me is a desire to just forget. To pretend he doesn’t exist. To pretend like my life is as perfect as it was before he came.
And I know exactly what I need to do.