Sweet Thief: Conclusion (Chapter4-6)

Sweet Thief: Beginnings(Chapter1-3)

Chapter 4

Silence filled the apartment as Sera tried to process Remy’s revelation.

“Your father?” she said at last. “The man trying to destroy my business is your father?”

Remy nodded, his expression grim. “He left when I was eight. Changed his name, reinvented himself. Left my mother with nothing but debts and a son she couldn’t handle.”

“And he recognized you tonight,” Sera said slowly, realization dawning. “That’s why he wanted to talk to you privately.”

“He wasn’t thrilled to see his past walk into his fancy party,” Remy said, voice edged with bitterness. “Even less thrilled when I told him I know about his crooked deals.”

Sera sank down beside him on the couch. “So this was never about helping me. It was about revenge.”

“It started that way,” Remy admitted. “When I heard Beaumont was leaning on a beignet shop owner in the Quarter, I figured it was my chance to get close. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, his gaze catching hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

“Didn’t expect what?” she asked quietly.

“You,” he said simply. “I didn’t expect to care about you. Or this place.”

The honesty in his voice twisted something inside her. Before she could reply, her phone buzzed, Aunt Mathilde’s ringtone.

“Aunt Mathilde?” Sera answered quickly. “It’s late, is everything...”

“Men came to the shop,” her aunt cut in, her voice tense. “They broke in. I called the police, but you shouldn’t come back tonight.”

Sera’s stomach dropped. “Are you okay?”

“I’m next door at Marie’s. The police are here now.” A beat. “Seraphina, be careful. The cards warned of danger.”

After promising she’d stay away, Sera hung up, her hands trembling.

“Someone broke into the shop,” she said to Remy. “Those men from the gala?”

“Probably Tucker and Royce,” Remy said, jaw tightening. “Old partners from Chicago. A job went south, they’ve been tracking me ever since.”

“So now I’ve got your father trying to steal my property, and your criminal associates breaking into my shop.” Sera let out a bitter laugh. “You really know how to complicate a girl’s life, Remy LeBeau.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “I’ll go. This is my mess, not yours.”

He stood, but she caught his wrist.

“Wait.” She drew a steadying breath. “We’re in this together now. You and me. Against Beaumont… your father.”

Remy looked down at her hand, then met her eyes. “You’re either the kindest or craziest woman I’ve ever met, Seraphina Dubois.”

“Probably both,” she said with a faint smile. “Now, what did you find in Beaumont’s office?”

Remy pulled out his phone and scrolled through photos. “Beaumont’s not just forging inspection reports. He’s laundering money through his developments. The Crescent Moon Hotel? It’s being funded with offshore cash. I’d bet my last dollar it’s dirty.”

“Can we prove it?”

“With what I grabbed tonight, and the bug I planted? We’re close.” He flipped through more images. “But here’s the kicker. Guess who’s on the list of potential tenants for the new hotel? Viktor Sokolov.”

“Should I know that name?”

“Russian businessman. Alleged mob ties,” Remy said. “Beaumont’s planning to use your location as a front. The beignet shop would become a cash business, technically owned by Sokolov, but really controlled by Beaumont’s people.”

Sera felt her stomach turn. “No wonder he’s been so persistent.”

"It's not just about real estate," Remy agreed. "It's about creating the perfect setup for laundering money."

They spent hours piecing through the evidence, connecting the dots between Beaumont’s legitimate ventures and his darker dealings. By dawn, they had a clearer picture of the operation, but still not enough solid proof to take to the authorities.

"We need the audio from the bug," Remy said with a yawn, stretching. "And we’ve got to stay ahead of Tucker and Royce."

Sera nodded, fighting her own exhaustion. "We should sleep. Tomorrow’s Sunday, shop’s closed. We can regroup then."

She offered Remy the couch, too tired to worry about the propriety of letting a near-stranger stay the night. As she changed out of her gown and into pajamas, she heard him moving quietly in the living room.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she found him standing at her window, watching the street below.

"Do you think they'll come here?" she asked softly.

"Eventually," he said. "But not tonight. They're not that good at tracking."

"Unlike you?" she said, unable to hide the tease in her voice.

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. "I've had practice staying one step ahead."

"It must be exhausting," she observed. "Always running, always looking over your shoulder."

"You get used to it," he said. "It's the only life I’ve known since I was seventeen."

"What happened when you were seventeen?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Remy was silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer.

"My mother died," he said finally. "Cancer. I couldn’t afford treatment. Couldn’t even keep the lights on after she was gone. So I started running scams. Turned out I was good at it."

The matter-of-fact way he said it made something twist in Sera’s chest.

"I’m sorry about your mother."

He gave a small nod of thanks. "What about you? How’d you end up with a beignet shop?"

"Family legacy," Sera said, settling onto the couch. "My grandmother opened it. My mom ran it after her. When she died five years ago, it became mine."

"Ever want to do something else?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "But the shop connects me to them. To where I come from." She twisted the locket at her neck. "Besides, I’m good at it. I like making people happy with something simple, like a good beignet and hot coffee."

Remy studied her, thoughtful.

"That’s a rare gift, making happiness."

The way he said it made her cheeks warm. She stood abruptly.

"You should get some sleep. Pillows and blankets are in that cabinet."

As she turned to go, Remy called after her, his voice soft.

"Sera?"

She paused, glancing over her shoulder.

"Thank you," he said. "For believing in me, despite... everything."

The vulnerability in his eyes made her heart skip.
"Good night, Remy," she said, retreating to her room before she could do something foolish like kiss him.

In the morning, Sera woke to the smell of coffee. She found Remy in her kitchen, hair tousled, stubble darker on his jaw, looking surprisingly domestic as he flipped pancakes.

"You cook?" she asked, accepting the mug he offered.

"Man can’t live on stolen beignets alone," he quipped, sliding a plate toward her. "Besides, seemed like the least I could do."

They ate in companionable silence until Remy’s phone buzzed. His expression tightened as he read the message.

"We’ve got problems," he said. "The bug picked up Beaumont talking to Sokolov. They’re accelerating the timeline. They know someone’s onto them."

"What does that mean for us?"

"It means we move faster." Remy stood, already pacing. "And we need help."

"Who’s going to help us against someone like Beaumont?"

Remy’s grin returned, his old confidence lighting up his face.

"You’d be surprised how many people in this town have bones to pick with Richard Beaumont."

By noon, Sera’s apartment had become an impromptu war room. Remy called in favors from across the city.

A court clerk who owed him for a past kindness brought copies of Beaumont’s development permits. A bartender from the Quarter showed up with stories of Beaumont’s drunken boasts about “owning the city inspectors.” Even Louie the saxophone player stopped by, revealing that Beaumont had threatened street performers to clear the way for his projects.

"This is bigger than just my shop," Sera realized, watching the growing pile of evidence exposing Beaumont's corruption.

"Always has been," Remy said, spreading papers across her small dining table. "Beaumont builds his empire by pushing out the little guys. Your shop's just the latest target."

Aunt Mathilde arrived around two, shopping bags in hand, filled with herbs and candles.

"For protection," she explained, placing small bundles in the corners of Sera’s apartment. "And clarity of purpose."

She pulled Sera aside while Remy spoke with the court clerk.

"The cards were right about him," she murmured, nodding toward Remy. "The Devil card, bound by his past. But there’s goodness there, beneath the scars."

"I know," Sera said softly, watching Remy's animated gestures as he explained something to the others. In just a few days, he’d become someone she couldn’t imagine not knowing.

"Be careful with your heart, child," Mathilde said gently. "But don’t guard it so tightly that love can’t find a way in."

Before Sera could protest that it wasn’t like that, Remy called for everyone’s attention.

"Here’s what we know," he began, pointing to their makeshift evidence board. "Beaumont’s been bribing city officials, falsifying permits, and preparing to launder money through the Crescent Moon Hotel. His partnership with Sokolov brings in the cash. Beaumont provides the legitimate front."

"And the listening device?" Sera asked.

"It gave us some useful audio," Remy confirmed. "Enough to prove Beaumont knows exactly what he's doing. But we still need something stronger, bank records, wire transfers, hard documentation."

"Which would be in his office at the development company," the court clerk supplied. "Impossible to access without getting caught."

Remy’s smile was pure mischief. "Nothing’s impossible, with the right plan and the right team."

Chapter 5

"This is insane," Sera whispered, adjusting her cleaning staff uniform as she pushed a cart down the hallway of Beaumont Development’s headquarters.

"The best plans usually are," Remy replied through the tiny earpiece she wore. He was parked in a van across the street, monitoring the building’s security cameras he'd hacked into.

The plan was simple, at least in theory. Sera would pose as part of the evening cleaning crew to access Beaumont’s office while he attended a city council meeting. Meanwhile, Remy had phoned in a water leak on a lower floor to draw security’s attention away from the executive level.

"You're clear," Remy said. "Office is at the end of the hall. Keycard should work… thank our friend in HR for that."

Sera swiped the stolen card. Her heart pounded as the lock clicked green. She slipped inside, pushing the cart ahead of her like she'd done this a hundred times.

Beaumont’s office was exactly what she’d imagined, lavish and overdone. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the Mississippi. One wall was a shrine to his ego: photos of ribbon-cuttings, handshakes with politicians, luxury developments gleaming in the background.

"Start with the filing cabinet behind his desk," Remy directed. "There’s a false bottom in the second drawer."

As Sera searched, she kept glancing at her watch. They had a twenty-minute window before the next scheduled security sweep.

"Found it," she whispered, pulling out a stack of documents. She began photographing each one with her phone, just as Remy had shown her.

"Fifteen minutes," Remy warned.

She worked quickly, capturing images of transfer records, offshore account numbers, and… most damning… handwritten notes detailing payments to city officials.

"Check his desk calendar," Remy said.

She flipped open the leather-bound planner.

"VS final arrangements, French Quarter location," she read aloud. "He’s meeting Sokolov tomorrow... at my shop?"

"That’s our chance to catch them both," Remy replied. "Ten minutes, Sera. Start wrapping up."

As she slid the papers back into place, something caught her eye, a framed photo, half-hidden behind the others. She picked it up and froze.

It showed a much younger Beaumont, smiling beside a dark-haired woman and a small boy with unmistakable amber eyes.

"Remy," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I found a photo of you. With your parents."

The earpiece went quiet.

After a long pause, Remy’s voice came through, tight. "Bring it."

Another beat. Then, steadier: "Five minutes. Time to go."

Sera slipped the photo into her uniform pocket and carefully returned everything else to its place. She was just reaching for the door when it swung open.

Jordan stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as they swept over her uniform and the cleaning cart.

"I don't recognize you," he said slowly. "Where's the regular cleaning lady?"

"Sick," Sera replied, keeping her head down and her voice pitched lower than usual. "I'm covering."

She held her breath as Jordan stared at her for a beat too long.

"Finish up quickly," he said at last. "Mr. Beaumont doesn’t like people lingering in his office."

When the door shut behind him, Sera exhaled shakily.

"That was close," she whispered.

"Too close," Remy agreed through the earpiece. "His meeting’s ending early. Get out, now."

Sera made her way through the building, pushing her cart with forced calm past the distracted security staff. Only once she was back in the van with Remy did she allow herself to breathe freely again.

"We did it," she said, handing him her phone with the photos.

Remy scrolled through them, his expression sharpening with each image. "This is it. Bank transfers, names, dates, everything we need to prove the laundering."

He fell silent as Sera pulled out the framed photo. In the tight space of the van, she watched the muscle in his jaw tense as he stared at the image of his younger self with his parents.

"He kept it," Remy murmured. "All these years... he kept a photo of us."

"Maybe there’s more to the story than you know," Sera offered gently.

His expression darkened. "Or maybe he just likes remembering the family he walked away from. Another trophy from a successful escape."

He tossed the photo aside and turned the key in the ignition.

"Either way, it ends tomorrow. Once we get the recording of his meeting with Sokolov at your shop, we take it all to the FBI."

Back at Sera’s apartment, they walked through the final steps of their plan. According to Beaumont’s calendar, he and Sokolov would meet at the closed beignet shop to finalize their deal.

"We’ll have cameras set up throughout the shop," Remy explained to the small group gathered in her living room. "If they say anything incriminating, that… combined with the documents… should be enough."

"And if it isn’t?" Sera asked.

Remy offered a faint, tired smile. "Then we move on to backup plans B through Z."

As the others filed out with their assignments, Sera remained alone with Remy. The last few days had drawn them together in unspoken ways, glances that lingered too long, late-night conversations that stretched into dawn.

"You should get some sleep," Remy said, gathering the papers scattered across the table. "Tomorrow’s the biggest performance of your career."

"What about you?" she asked, noting the shadows under his eyes.

"I’ll crash on the couch again, if that’s okay."

Sera nodded, then hesitated before adding, "Thank you. For all of this. Even if it started as revenge against your father, what you're doing… for me, for the shop..."

"Don’t thank me yet," Remy said, his voice low. "This could still go sideways in a dozen different ways."

"But it might not," she countered, stepping closer. "We might actually win."

His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. The tension between them had been building for days, electric, undeniable.

"Sera," he began, voice rough. "I’m not..."

"If you say you're not good enough, I’ll throw something at you," she cut in. "I’m a grown woman. I know who you are."

"Do you?" he challenged. "I’m a con man, Sera. I lie for a living."

"Not to me," she said with quiet conviction. "Not about the important things."

For a moment, she was certain he would kiss her. But instead, Remy stepped back, putting distance between them.

"Get some rest," he said softly. "Tomorrow changes everything."

Alone in her room, Sera touched the locket around her neck, her mother’s. She wondered what her mother would have thought of Remy LeBeau and the storm he’d brought into her life. Despite everything, the risk, the chaos, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so awake. So alive.

Morning came too fast.

She awoke to find a note on her nightstand, written in Remy's quick, slanted handwriting:

"Gone to set up. Meet at the shop at 3 p.m. Don’t come early. —R"

She spent the hours leading up to the meeting reviewing their plan, trying to steady the nerves that refused to settle. When she finally arrived at Sera’s Sweets, the street outside was unusually quiet, no tourists, no street performers.

"Remy?" she called, unlocking the front door. The shop was dark, the familiar scents of sugar and coffee stale from the days it had been closed.

"Back here," came his voice from the kitchen.

She found him crouched behind the counter, installing the last of several tiny cameras.

"Everything’s ready," he said, straightening. "They’ll be here in thirty minutes."

"Remind me what I’m supposed to do again?" she asked, fussing nervously with a crooked chair.

"You supposedly left town after the break-in," Remy reminded her. "Jordan’s going to let them in with the master key. We’ll be hidden in the storage room, listening to everything."

The plan was simple. Almost too simple.

Sera glanced toward the window. "Where is everyone? The street's dead out there."

Remy gave her a sheepish look. "I may have arranged a small gas leak scare at the corner. Just enough to clear the area without tipping off Beaumont."

As the minutes ticked by, Sera’s anxiety grew. This was it, her one chance to save the shop and expose Beaumont’s corruption.

“What happens after?” she asked suddenly. “If this works?”

Remy glanced at her, hearing the question beneath the words.
“Let’s focus on today,” he said. “Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

Before she could press further, his phone buzzed. He checked the security feed.

“They’re early,” he muttered. “Into the storage room. Now.”

They slipped inside just as keys rattled in the front door. Through a narrow crack, they watched Jordan usher in Beaumont and a heavyset man with a thick accent, Sokolov.

“The location is perfect,” Beaumont was saying. “High tourist traffic, cash business already established. No one will question the flow of money.”

“And the owner?” Sokolov asked.

“Being handled,” Beaumont said dismissively. “She’ll sell. Everyone has a price.”

“Not everyone,” Remy whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

They listened as the men laid everything out, how much money would be laundered through the beignet shop, which officials were on their payroll, timetables for renovations.

“This is gold,” Remy murmured, watching the camera feeds on his phone. “They’re confessing to everything.”

But just as it seemed they had all they needed, the storage room door was yanked open.

Jordan stood there, gun drawn, flanked by two burly security guards.

“Look what I found, Mr. Beaumont,” he said with a smug grin. “Rats in the walls.”

Beaumont’s expression shifted from surprise to fury as they were dragged out into the main shop. But when his gaze landed on Remy, something else flickered behind his eyes, something older. Personal.

“Remy,” he said, voice quiet, almost nostalgic. “It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” Remy spat.

Sokolov looked between them. “You know this man?”

“My son,” Beaumont said, still staring at Remy. “My very... resourceful son.”

“How convenient,” Sera snapped, finding her voice. “Catching him breaking into a property you’ve been trying to acquire. Trespassing charges make it easier to force a sale, don’t they?”

Beaumont turned a cold glare on her.
“Ms. Dubois. I should have known you'd be involved in this little amateur spy ring.” He nodded at Jordan. “Did you check for recording devices?”

“Found and disabled them all, sir.”

Sera’s stomach dropped. Without those recordings, they had nothing, just paperwork that could be shredded by expensive lawyers.

“What do we do with them?” Sokolov demanded.

Beaumont didn’t miss a beat. “My security team will escort them somewhere... private. We’ll discuss the consequences of their actions there.”

Remy tensed beside her. This was spiraling out of control.

“Before you do something you’ll regret,” he said evenly, “you should know we’ve already sent everything we found to the FBI, bank records, bribes, the whole operation.”

Beaumont gave a thin smile. “A bluff. You were always good at those.”

Remy met his gaze.
“Want to bet your freedom on it?”

A tense silence filled the shop as Beaumont studied his son’s face, searching for any sign of deception.

“Search them,” he said at last.

Jordan patted them down, pulling out their phones and Remy’s small recording device. After checking it, he gave a curt nod.
“Nothing’s been sent.”

“Take them out the back,” Beaumont instructed the guards. “Make sure they understand the cost of interfering in my business.”

They were being shoved toward the rear exit when the front door burst open.

Two rough-looking men stepped inside, the same ones Sera had seen at the gala.

“Well, well,” the taller one drawled. “If it isn’t Remy LeBeau. Been lookin’ all over for you, partner.”

“Tucker,” Remy acknowledged, voice tight. “Perfect timing, as always.”

Beaumont’s expression soured. “Who are these people?”

“Old friends,” Tucker replied, his hand drifting to his waistband where a pistol was clearly visible. “Remy here owes us a considerable sum.”

“Get in line,” Beaumont scoffed. “Whatever he owes you, deal with it elsewhere. We have business.”

“Our business takes priority,” the second man, Royce, cut in. “Unless you want the cops hearin’ about your little meetin’ here.”

The air grew heavier as Beaumont’s security squared off with Remy’s former associates. Sera watched Remy’s eyes flick rapidly between them all, calculating.

“Everyone calm down,” Remy said, raising his hands. “I’m sure we can find an arrangement that works for everybody.”

As he spoke, he subtly stepped in front of Sera, shielding her with his body.

Beaumont narrowed his eyes. “I’m listening.”

“You let Ms. Dubois go,” Remy said. “She walks out of here, unharmed. In return, we keep quiet about the recording Jordan missed.”

Jordan snapped his head toward him. “What recording?”

Remy gave a tight smile. “The one broadcasting this whole conversation to my good friend at the Times-Picayune.”

Sera fought to keep her expression neutral, though she knew it was a bluff, a Remy classic.

“He’s lying,” Jordan said sharply.

“Maybe,” Remy allowed. “But are you willing to bet your freedom on it? Imagine tomorrow’s headline: ‘Developer Beaumont Caught in Money Laundering Scheme.’”

Even if there is a recording, it’s your word against mine. Who do you think people will believe? A respected businessman, or a known con artist?”

“That depends on the other evidence we have,” Remy shot back. “Like the documents from your office safe.”

This time, Sera caught it, a flicker of uncertainty in Beaumont’s eyes.
“You’re bluffing.”

“Let Ms. Dubois go, and you’ll never have to find out.”

The standoff dragged for what felt like hours but was only seconds. Finally, Beaumont gave a sharp nod to one of his guards.
“Show the lady out. Not the front, too visible.”

“I’m not leaving without Remy,” Sera said, her voice steady.

“Yes, you are,” Remy replied, locking eyes with her. There was something in his gaze, a silent plea, a message she couldn’t quite read. “Go. Now.”

As the guard reached for her arm, Tucker stepped forward.
“Not so fast. We still have unfinished business with LeBeau.”

“Which you can handle after ours,” Beaumont snapped.

The argument that followed gave Sera just enough cover. She caught Remy’s eye and glanced subtly toward the kitchen. His barely-there nod told her he understood.

“Fine,” she said loudly, pulling away from the guard. “I’ll go. But I need my purse from the kitchen.”

“I’ll get it,” the guard offered.

“No need,” she said quickly, already moving. “I know exactly where it is.”

In the kitchen, she hurried to the industrial mixer, reaching behind it for the small device Aunt Mathilde had helped her plant days ago, an old-fashioned tape recorder, still whirring quietly. Not everything depended on smartphones and the cloud.

She slipped it into her pocket just as the guard appeared in the doorway.
“Hurry up.”

Back in the main shop, the situation had escalated. Tucker now had his gun drawn, aimed at Remy, while Beaumont’s security team had their weapons out as well.

“This isn’t necessary,” Beaumont was saying, tone surprisingly calm. “Whatever he owes you, I can cover it.”

“Why would you do that?” Sokolov asked, voice sharp with suspicion.

Something passed across Beaumont’s face, regret, maybe.

“He’s my son.”

“The son you abandoned,” Remy said bitterly.

“I did what I had to do,” Beaumont replied, defensiveness creeping in. “Your mother...”

“Don’t you dare talk about her,” Remy snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

Sera was being ushered toward the back door when the front door burst open again, this time, a squad of police officers poured in, weapons drawn.
“Police! Everyone freeze!”

Chaos erupted before she could even process what was happening. Beaumont’s guards went for their weapons. Sokolov bolted for the kitchen. Tucker yanked Remy in front of him as a shield. And through the confusion, a small, colorful figure slipped inside, Aunt Mathilde.

“Down!” the elderly woman commanded, her voice ringing with unexpected authority. She flung something into the center of the room, one of her herb pouches, which exploded into a cloud of choking, acrid powder.

In the haze, Remy broke free from Tucker’s grip. He grabbed Sera’s hand, pulling her behind the counter just as officers tackled and subdued the armed men.

When the dust settled, Beaumont, Sokolov, Jordan, and the others were in handcuffs. Detective Marcus, a regular at Sera’s Sweets, strode over to them.

“Perfect timing,” Sera said, exhaling with relief.

“Thank your aunt,” the detective replied, nodding toward Mathilde, who was calmly dusting powder off her patchwork shawl. “She called in a tip… said her niece was in danger from armed men at the bakery. Threw in some talk about money laundering, too.”

Sera pulled the tape recorder from her pocket.
“This should help your case.”

As the police led the arrested men out, Beaumont paused beside Remy.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “leaving was the biggest mistake of my life.”

Remy’s face remained unreadable.
“Save it for your lawyer.”

Only when the final police cruiser pulled away did Sera allow herself to believe it was truly over. Her shop was safe. Beaumont’s schemes exposed. The nightmare ended.

“How did you know to plant the recorder?” Remy asked, studying her with a new kind of respect.

“I didn’t trust all this fancy technology,” she said with a shrug. “Aunt Mathilde suggested we have a backup.”

The aunt in question approached, looking immensely pleased with herself.

“The cards never lie,” she declared with a wink. “Justice has been served.”

Chapter 6

The weeks following Beaumont’s arrest passed in a blur of police statements, news stories, and unexpected fame for Sera’s Sweets. Tourists and locals alike flocked to the little bakery where the infamous developer had been caught, eager to taste the beignets worth committing crimes for.

Sera hired three new employees just to keep up with demand. The financial troubles that had plagued her only weeks earlier were quickly becoming a distant memory.

Remy stayed to help with the transition, though he remained vague about his future plans. Every day, Sera found herself watching the door, wondering if today would be the day he vanished from her life as suddenly as he’d entered it.

“You’re frowning at the sugar again,” he said one afternoon, catching her lost in thought behind the counter.

“Just thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” he teased, swiping a freshly made beignet. After everything they’d been through, she no longer protested his sugar thefts.

“They offered me a deal,” he said suddenly. “The DA’s office. Testimony against my father and his associates in exchange for immunity for my... past indiscretions.”

Sera looked up sharply. “Are you going to take it?”

“Already did.” His smile was bittersweet. “Turns out going straight is easier than I thought.”

“So what now?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Remy studied her face for a long moment.
“That depends,” he said quietly. “On whether there’s a reason to stay in New Orleans.”

The question hung between them, full of unspoken hope.

Before Sera could answer, the shop door burst open in a flurry of colorful fabric and jangling beads, Aunt Mathilde, practically vibrating with excitement.

“It’s happening!” she announced to the packed bakery. “The parade! They moved up the time!”

Sera had nearly forgotten, today marked the start of Mardi Gras weekend, the city’s grandest celebration. The first parade was scheduled to pass right by the shop.

“Come!” Mathilde insisted, grabbing both their hands. “You can’t miss it!”

Outside, the street had transformed into a riot of color and sound. Floats adorned with feathers and glitter drifted through throngs of revelers. Beads flew through the air. Brass bands filled the air with music that made the pavement thrum.

Standing on the sidewalk amid the joyful chaos, Sera felt something lift from her shoulders. This, the joy, the community, the beating heart of New Orleans, this was what she’d been fighting to protect.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said to Remy, who was watching the spectacle with wide-eyed wonder.

“Never seen anything like it,” he admitted. “I’ve been a lot of places, but nowhere feels like this.”

“That’s New Orleans for you,” she replied. “Gets under your skin.”

Remy turned to her, his voice softer now.
“It’s not just the city, Sera. It’s you. You got under my skin in ways I never expected.”

Around them, the parade raged on, loud, bright, electric. But in that moment, it might as well have been just the two of them.

“I’m not good at staying in one place,” he said. “Not good at putting down roots. But for you... I want to try.”

Sera reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek.
“I’m not asking you to change who you are, Remy.”

“I know.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “That’s what makes you different. You saw me, really saw me, from day one.”

“When you were stealing my sugar,” she said with a laugh.

“Best theft of my life,” he said, pulling her closer. “Though I think you stole something from me too.”

“What’s that?”

“My heart.” He smiled. “Not sure I want it back.”

As the grand float approached, a massive golden crown glittering in the sunlight, Sera made her decision. She rose on tiptoe and kissed him.

The End

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