Chapter 4

Kendrick said, “Fine! I’ll leave. Let me see how long you can keep being this stubborn.”

With that, he turned and left.

The next morning, Kendrick’s mother, Trisha Grundy, called my mother.

“I don’t mean to sound harsh, but your daughter’s photos are all over the internet. Our family can’t take that kind of humiliation. We’re calling off the engagement.”

My mother tried to explain that the photos were fake and digitally fabricated, but Trisha just hung up ruthlessly.

Because of this uproar, I lost my fiance, my business, and my life fell apart.

But Rosalind did not let up.

She made eight complaint calls a day and even rallied other residents to join in.

The health department showed up, then the fire marshal. Even the city inspectors arrived one day to inspect my shop.

They tore the shop apart searching for violations, but all my permits were in order, and they found nothing wrong.

As the inspectors were leaving, one of them pulled me aside and said, “Miss, your place has no violations at all.

“But we’ve gotten way too many complaints. Our bosses need us to show we did something about it.

“Maybe shut down for now, let the heat die down, and we’ll revisit it later.”

I also went to the police station to ask about the case.

The officer hesitated but ultimately said, “AI-generated images do count as potential defamation, and we are looking into it.

“But she never directly named you, which makes it tough to gather solid evidence.

“Plus, it’s hard to go after everyone involved. In the end, cases like this almost always just get settled through mediation.”

So far, they had asked me to shut down my studio, mediate, or just work it out among ourselves.

I let out a cold, bitter laugh.

I never expected the system to be just like Kendrick. They all wanted me to back down.

I refused to give in.

But even if I could hold my ground, my parents could not.

My mother had been in the walking club for five years. She was kicked out of it.

The leader, Elaine Barnes, said, “Your daughter is a bad influence. Having you around makes us uncomfortable.”

My father had been an honest, unassuming man his whole life. But at work, people openly mocked him for failing to raise his daughter properly.

When they came home, they pretended like everything was fine.

My mother, Mabel Flavell, said, “It’s fine. It’s just a walking club. I can do it on my own.

“Don’t worry about us. Just focus on handling your own situation.”

My father, Arthur Flavell, said, “Sweetheart, don’t you worry. I believe in you.”

They said it so casually, but I knew they felt humiliated.

That night, I crouched in the corner of my studio, buried my face in my knees, and sobbed until I could barely breathe.

My parents had done nothing wrong. Why did they have to suffer for my sake?

I wiped away my tears and made a decision.

The next day, I stopped Rosalind in the neighborhood town square.

I kept my head down and pulled out three thousand dollars in cash.

“Rosalind, this is the money for the cake you ordered last time. Three thousand dollars covers the cake and everything else.

“I’m sorry I didn’t handle this issue properly and put you through so much trouble.”

At that moment, I felt like I was being publicly humiliated. I was groveling in front of the whole neighborhood.

Rosalind smiled and said, “Fine. Since you’re being sincere, I guess I’ll let it slide.”

She put away that sum of money and paused as if holding something back.

“For Marvin’s birthday, I want to do something huge for him. Make a ten-thousand-dollar money-pull cake.”

I narrowed my eyes.

I had expected this. Someone like her always knew how to push her luck.

Give her an inch, and she would take a mile.

That suited me perfectly.

I quickly put on a fawning look and said, “Tell you what, Rosalind. I’ll make that ten-thousand-dollar pull-out-money cake for you. It’s on the house.”

I would make this cake beautifully without skimping on anything.

This cake would be my “congratulatory gift” to her entire family.