Chapter 149

Christina's POV I watched Hudson place a small box on my workbench, his movements careful as if handling a precious artifact. My heart skipped a beat when he revealed its contents - a tiny cake, just four inches across. Perfect for two. The frosting was impeccably smooth, pure white like fresh snow with a single purple flower in the center. No sprinkles, no elaborate decorations. Just that solitary bloom, a shade deeper than amethyst. A primrose - my birth flower. "Happy birthday," he said again, his voice soft yet somehow filling the entire studio. My heart pounded against my ribcage. How did he know? I'd never told anyone that detail about myself. Memories crashed over me like waves. Every year on Beatrice's birthday, my parents would prepare three-tiered cream cakes with pink frosting and glittering decorations. The living room would be festooned with streamers and balloons, relatives and friends gathered in a circle singing birthday songs while she wore her prettiest dress, smiling