A Strawberry Cake For My Freedom

The day my benefactor kicked me out for the sake of his One Who Got Away, he told me hed grant me one final wish.

I didnt ask for the deed to the penthouse or the keys to the Porsche. I asked for a strawberry shortcake.

For five years, Gideon Montgomery gave me everything my family had clawed away from me. He filled the holes they left behind with designer silk and cold, hard cash. But once I finish this cake, Ill have nothing left to regret.

He needs to give his "Great Love" a respectable place in his life.

And I? I know exactly when its time to disappear.

This was the first New Years Eve Gideon actually spent with me.

A pot of seafood risotto was bubbling on the stove, sending up clouds of savory steam. Gideon set the last plate of sauted greens on the table, untied his apron, and called me over.

His voice was a beautiful thinglow, resonant, with that effortless authority that comes from old money and expensive schools. Gideon was half-British, with an aristocratic chill in his bones; usually, he stuck to tasting menus and vintage Cabernets.

Tonight, however, the table was laid with every comfort food Id ever mentioned loving. Hed even made handmade dumplingsa nod to my heritage he usually ignored. I knew the routine. It was the "Goodbye Feast."

When I was six, my parents took me to McDonalds and let me order a Happy Meal right before they "lost" me in a crowded mall. I learned early on that a full stomach is usually the prelude to an empty heart.

So, when Gideon looked at me and said, "Callie, were done," I wasnt surprised.

Happiness always comes with a bill you cant afford to pay.

"What do you want for a settlement? The condo? A lump sum?" Gideon stirred his risotto with a casual grace, his tone as light as if we were discussing tomorrows weather.

Men like himmen who are elegant even when theyre breaking your heartalways insist on a "civilized" ending for their caged birds.

The risotto had too much ginger. It burned my throat as I swallowed.

I looked him in the eye and said, "I want a cake."

"Thats it?"

"Thats it."

I wanted the kind with three layers of whipped cream, massive strawberries tucked in the middle, and dark chocolate shavings on top. The kind of cake my brother got every single birthday while I watched from the hallway, tasting nothing but the air.

"Think carefully, Callie. I dont want any loose ends later," Gideon warned. "Valerie is... sensitive. Shes the type to overthink things."

Valerie. The name tasted like ash.

I wasnt going to cling. Gideon had been good to me in his own wayhe was generous with his cards and even better at faking the illusion of love. Hed given me the childhood I never had.

Once I ate that cake, Id be whole.

Since he was busy building a home for the woman who just flew back from Paris, it was time for me to find my own road.

I met Gideon on the ledge of a skyscraper in Chicago.

Below us, a crowd of strangers was shouting, some telling me to jump, others telling me to think of my family. The police had called my parents. My mothers voice had crackled over the speaker, screaming that if I was going to die, I should make sure the life insurance beneficiary was set to my brother first.

The wind felt like a blade against my skin. It was so high up. One step, and the screaming would stop.

Then, the roof door creaked open.

A man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit walked out. The sunlight caught the face of his Patek Philippe, blinding me for a second. He didn't give me a lecture. He just handed me a massive, cloud-like stick of pink cotton candy.

He told me the carnival at the pier closed at five, but we could still make it if we left now. He asked if I wanted to go with him.

I ended up on the carousel, eating that cotton candy bite by bite. From that moment on, I belonged to Gideon Montgomery. For five years, he raised the girl I used to be.

As a "benefactor," Gideon was flawless. He was stable, refined, and possessed a gentlemanly grace that made it impossible to find fault with him. Even though I knew I was just a placeholder, a stand-in for a ghost, he never made me feel small. He listened to me. He indulged me.

The only time he was ever harsh was behind closed doors, in the dark.

His friends used to bet hed grow bored of me within six months. But a year passed, then two, then five, and I was still there, tucked away in his glass-and-steel fortress.

I figured God wasn't entirely cruel. After twenty years of eating bitter gourds, Hed finally given me a piece of candy.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, used to whisper when she thought I couldn't hear. She said I looked exactly like "The Other One."

Valerie. The woman who had turned down Gideons proposal years ago to chase her dreams in Europe. The "White Moonlight" of his soul.

I didn't mind being a shadow. My parents never looked at me twice, but Gideon looked at me and saw the woman he loved. I got the leftovers of that affection, and for a girl like me, leftovers were a feast.

Gideon told me to take my time packing. Hed have a car ready for me the next morning.

That night, I meticulously organized five years' worth of jewelry, gold bars, and designer handbags into my suitcases. I didn't take a single piece of junk that didn't have resale value.

Seattle weather is like a moody teenager. It was snowing last night; by morning, it had turned into a freezing sleet. The rain was sharp, needle-like, chilling me to the marrow.

The driver called, his voice tight with feigned regret. "Ms. Quinn, Miss Valerie just landed. Shes fragile and cant handle the cold. All the house cars have been diverted to the airport to pick up her and her luggage. Youll have to call an Uber to get down the hill."

I hung up and stared out the window.

When I first started staying with Gideon, I didn't know the rules. I remember leaving a gala once during a torrential downpour. I thought hed left without me, so I threw my bag over my head and tried to run for the street.

Gideon had pulled me back under his massive black umbrella. His six-figure suit was half-soaked, but he didn't let a single drop touch my silk gown.

He told me he hadn't left; hed just gone to get the umbrella. A gentleman, he said, never lets a lady stand in the rain.

Since then, no matter where he was in the world, someone was always there to hold an umbrella for me when it rained.

The memory hit a wall. I laughed at myself, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out into the sleet.

The rain was just as cold as it looked. But it was time to go. You cant spend your whole life expecting someone else to keep you dry.

The freezing rain triggered a relapse of my pneumonia. I spent the next five days in a hospital bed near the airport, tethered to an IV drip.

On the last day, I was drifting in and out of sleep when a sharp scream jolted me awake.

A searing pain shot through the back of my hand.

A woman passing my bed had caught her Herms Birkin chain on my IV line. Instead of stopping, shed yanked it in frustration. The needle tore through my skin, ripping the tape and leaving a jagged gash. Blood started welling up instantly, dripping onto the white linoleum.

"Oh my God! Gross! Look what she did to my bag!"

"I just got back to the States, and I am so not used to these public clinics. Gideon, babe, come here!"

The moment Gideon appeared, I froze.

I looked up at the womanValerie. Our eyes, our jawlines... the resemblance was haunting. I finally saw the original of the portrait Id been playing.

Blood pitter-pattered onto the floor. Gideon frowned, his gaze landing on me, then darting away. He didn't say a word.

The silence stretched until it was deafening.

Valerie looped her arm through his, asking in her soft, honeyed voice, "Honey, whats wrong? Do you know this girl?"

For a split second, I saw a flicker of something in Gideons eyes. Regret? Guilt? It didn't matter. He looked away, draped his coat over Valeries shoulders, and spoke.

"No. I don't know her."

"A nurse will handle it," he added. "Lets get you to the car."

Valerie nodded sweetly. As they turned to leave, she shot a look back at me over her shoulder. It wasn't a look of pity; it was the sharp, jagged grin of a victor.

That night, a blocked number called my new phone. Gideons voice was low, roughened by the kind of exhaustion that comes after a long night.

"Callie. Tomorrow, Im sending a car to take you to a private clinic. Don't make things difficult for Valerie."

"Have a doctor look at your hand," he added.

I agreed to everything, sitting on the edge of my hotel bed.

The silence on the other end lasted so long I thought hed hung up. Then, he spoke again, out of nowhere. "I didn't realize it was your birthday the day you left. You didn't have to leave in the rain. Im sorry."

"Happy birthday."

"Don't be sorry, Mr. Montgomery," I said quietly. "Youve paid me more than enough. Im satisfied."

"Thank you. And congratulations on your marriage."

...

My treatment was over. I already had my flight booked. When Gideons driver showed up the next morning, I refused the ride.

The driver, a man named Miller who had always been kind to me, practically begged. He pulled a beautifully wrapped box from the trunk.

"Ms. Quinn, please. If you don't take this, the boss will have my head. Its a birthday gift."

I opened it. It was a couture gown encrusted with pink diamonds. It shimmered like a dream. The receipt was still in the box.

If Gideon insisted on paying me off with one last shiny toy, I wasn't going to argue with the math. I had a few hours before my flight; I figured Id stop by the flagship store and return it for the cash.

Fate, however, is a sadistic bitch.

In a city of millions, I walked straight into Valerie at the boutique.

"Im sorry, ma'am. This specific Spring Couture piece was sold yesterday. Its a global limited edition."

"We cant even take a backorder. The gentleman who bought it was very specific."

The sales associates were hovering around Valerie, trying to placate her. Valerie was fuming, tossing her hair and complaining loudly about the "lack of service" in the city.

Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. She pointed at the managers tablet.

"I don't care! I want that dress for my morning-after silk! If I don't get it, Im calling your corporate office and making sure youre all in the unemployment line!"

The manager was sweating, checking the system. She whispered to a colleague about contacting the buyer, a "Mr. Montgomery."

Valeries ears perked up. "Wait... Gideon bought it? Oh, so its a surprise for me..."

I stood behind her, clutching the garment bag containing the very same dress. My heart did a slow, heavy roll in my chest.

I tried to slip away. I was one second too late.

Valerie saw me in the three-way mirror. She watched as the sales associate took my bag and verified the authenticity of the dress.

Valeries long, manicured nails tapped against the glass counter. Suddenly, she spun around and slapped me across the face.

"Call the police!" she shrieked. "My husband bought this for me! How does a girl like this have it? Thief! Someone catch this thief!"

By the time the police arrived, Gideon was there too.

He was in a black suit today, his silver-rimmed glasses catching the cold light of the store. He looked at me with a face so stern it felt like a physical weight. His expression told me one thing: I had overstepped.

Miller, the driver who had handed me the box just hours ago, stood there and changed his story on the spot. Under Gideons icy gaze, he claimed hed never seen the dress. He turned "gift" into "theft."

I was taken to the precinct, processed, and locked in a holding cell.

Gideon stood on the other side of the bars, looking at me with profound disappointment.

"I told you," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous silkiness. "I told you not to bother her."

"Stay in here for a while. Let it sink in. And when you get out, never come back to this city."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him the truth. But the words died in my throat.

I remembered a time when I was ten. My mother had given me the last piece of candy in the jar. I was so happy I was slow to unwrap it. My brother saw it and threw a tantrum, screaming that Mom was being unfair.

My mother had walked over, slapped me, and told the whole family Id stolen the candy. She knew I was innocent. But to keep her precious son happy, my dignity was a small price to pay.

I should have run with the candy then. I should have run as far as I could.

...

I spent fifteen days in lockup.

My flight was gone. My record now had a permanent stain. Not that I was planning on applying for a government jobwith parents like mine, Id never pass a background check anyway.

When I walked out of the station, Gideons Bentley was idling at the curb.

He was leaning against the hood, smoking. The smoke curled around him, masking his expression, making him look strangely solitary. My father used to smoke before he hit me, so the smell always made me shiver.

Gideon used to be careful. Hed only smoke on the balcony when he was pushed to the brink. I didn't care if he was stressed anymore. I just walked up and gave him a polite nod.

He crushed the cigarette and hesitated before shoving a check into my hand.

The dress was worth twenty thousand. Hed added an extra zero to the amount.

It was enough. More than enough. When I got hit over that piece of candy as a kid, no one gave me a dime. I just went to bed hungry.

Gideon opened the car door for me.

I shook my head.

Id finally learned my lesson. I was going to run. Right now.

Gideons hand faltered. He tried to act indifferent. "I know you got the raw end of the deal with the dress. Valerie... she just misunderstood."

"What are your plans? If you want to stay in the city, I can make it happen."