Laurel pointed at the trash can and added, "Even if you ruined the whipping cream, you can still make a strawberry cake.

"It doesn't matter if we don't have cake molds; you can figure something out, right? Didn't you always use to say that a truly great pastry chef doesn't blame their tools?

"Anyway, I'm not letting you leave if you don't bake something today."

Her words sent an icy chill down my spine.

Something was deeply wrong with Laurel.

I could even feel a cold sweat breaking out across my palms as she locked her dark, intense stare on me, as if making sure I wouldn't bolt for the door the next second.

It was uncanny, almost as if she knew something terrible was bound to happen today.

After all, given her usual temperament, she would have long pouted and thrown a massive tantrum if I refused to cater to her whim in the slightest.

But today, she wasn't just patient, but she also refused to let me leave. She wasn't throwing a spoiled, playful fit.

In fact, she was just trying to keep me trapped here.

Everything in my past life had happened too fast.

The moment I finished making Laurel's mousse glacee, I barely had time to catch my breath before I was brutally murdered. That was why I had overlooked so many details.

When Laurel saw that I remained silent, she assumed I had given in, and the corners of her lips curved slightly.

"That's more like it," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice and reached out to pull my arm. "Cassie, stop being mad at me, okay? I know you have a soft heart, and there's no way you'd actually abandon a cutiepie like me for real."

But when I avoided her and left her hand hanging in midair, a flicker of displeasure crossed her face.

"Now that's enough. Go to the kitchen and bake the cake already. I'm absolutely craving your baking."

She half-dragged and half-shoved me into the kitchen before rummaging through the cabinets for baking supplies and turning around to walk out. As I stared at her from behind, I couldn't help but find her increasingly unnerving.

Even if Laurel had brainwashed herself into this infantile mindset where she couldn't understand the gravity of her actions, it made no sense for her to drag me all the way back from abroad just to make her a dessert.

This felt more like a trap orchestrated for me instead. But why would she do that?

Laurel and I had known each other for at least ten years. My parents treated her like their own daughter, and in all these years, I had never once mistreated her.

When Laurel noticed the silence in the kitchen, she immediately marched back in and locked her eerie gaze on me.

"Why haven't you started yet, Cassie? Are you missing some ingredients?"

Suppressing my panic, I calmly shook my head and replied, "No. Everything's here."

She let out a sigh of relief, and a bright smile lit up her face again. "That's great! I was worried for a second."

As she spoke, she excitedly leaped forward to show off the ingredients. "See? I had everything prepared pretty well, right?"

My expression remained calm as I replied, "Yeah. You were very thorough and got everything you needed."

A smug smile appeared on her face, but I turned around and stared into her eyes, smiling, though it never reached my eyes.

"In fact, you're so thorough it looks like it was planned out in advance."

Laurel's body visibly stiffened before she burst out laughing again. "Why are you being so weird today, Cassie? Ten cartons of strawberries are a lot. We'd get sick of them if we only made mousse glacee, so I bought ingredients for cake, too.

"Besides, you're a world-famous pastry chef. You flew all the way back just for me, so of course I would want you to make a little extra. It'd be fun showing off to my friends."

I smiled and continued whisking the eggs as I asked, "Laurel, have my family ever treated you badly over the years?"

No matter why Laurel was going to such lengths to get me killed, remembering everything we had been through together should be enough to make her call off her malicious thoughts—if she had a single shred of conscience left.

But Laurel didn't even blink. She unbotheredly leaned her head against my shoulder and softly whined, "Of course not.

"Cassie, you and your parents treat me incredibly well, and that's why you're my favorite people. So don't let this little thing come between us, okay?"

My gaze darkened. The milk carton I had just been holding slipped from my hands and splashed into the egg wash.

I quickly fished the carton out.

To my surprise, Laurel completely flipped her lid over the minor slip-up. She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face, with her eyes bulging wide.

"Why are you adding so much milk?"

As I clutched my burning cheek, my mind went blank for a second before I shot back, "How am I supposed to make a cake without adding milk?"

She seemed to choke on my response before bursting into tears.

"Did you seriously forget? This smol bean breaks out in a severe allergy if she has more than 4.5 fluid ounces of milk! How could you add so much for her?"

I stared dead at her pathetic, aggrieved act without feeling a single shred of emotion. "Do you really think I'd forget?"

When Laurel met my scrutinizing gaze, her eyes darted over to the kitchen counter, where the milk carton sat on top with its sealed spout completely intact.

Only then did she realize she had overreacted and violently slapped me. She immediately grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand over to tap her chest lightly a couple of times, her tears flowing right on cue.

She sniveled, and her voice was thick with a heavy nasal whine. "Cassie, please don't be mad at me.

"I just couldn't control my emotions for a second. I thought you met new friends after moving abroad and forgot about those details, which is why I panicked."

I looked down at her hand gripping my wrist and found it utterly laughable.

When I stayed silent, she sniffled, her eyes darting over to the milk in the cup every few seconds as if to confirm just how much milk I had poured.

Once she saw that it was exactly 4.5 fluid ounces, she added, "I'm going to stem the strawberries in the living room. Hurry up and stop dawdling."

I simply focused on baking the cake.

Moments later, she came in holding a small bowl of strawberry chunks, a smile playing on her lips. "Cassie, I have all the strawberries ready."

As she spoke, she looked over at the milk carton before picking it up to give it a shake and bringing it close to her nose to sniff it.

After confirming that I hadn't secretly added more milk, she shot me another suspicious look.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught everything she did. It seemed like she didn't just want to harm me, but she was on guard against me, too.

After the cake was baked, I suddenly asked her, "Did you pay for the strawberries already?"

She found and finally got a little annoyed. "Of course, I did. Would I ever lie to you?"

I didn't press further.

Laurel took a massive, satisfied bite of the cake before carrying the plate over to slump onto the couch. Every now and then, she would mumble a complaint at me.

"Cassie, if you'd made this for me from the start, none of this would've happened. I wouldn't have had to slap you, too. Now my hand still hurts."

I said nothing. All I did was eerily watch as she ate the whole cake, until her voice was so soft it was barely audible, and her eyelids began to droop uncontrollably.

"Cassie, why am I suddenly so sleepy?"

Deep down, my heart was terrifyingly calm. "We've been running around all day. You're probably exhausted."

She mumbled an agreement and collapsed onto the couch, her breathing instantly smoothing out.

I stared at her.

Of course, I hadn't forgotten that Laurel suffered from a milk allergy if she consumed more than 4.5 fluid ounces. Furthermore, her allergic reaction was falling into a comatose state.

So, while she was busy prepping the strawberries, I had secretly poured nine ounces of milk and topped the carton back up with water.

After all, she was the one who refused to let me go in this life. And now, I wasn't going to run away anyway.

I looked down and fished for her phone out of her hand.

Just like in my past life, Laurel hadn't intended to pay for the order at all. The username on the shopping app and the shipping recipient for the strawberries had been changed to my name at some point.

My expression turned cold.

It hit me that Laurel was using my name to make things tough for the strawberry seller, Dave Hoffman.

That explained why, in my past life, Dave had completely broken down and stabbed me the moment he heard Laurel call my name.

I tapped into Laurel's chat log with Dave. As my fingers flicked through page after page, my expression grew darker with every swipe.

Dave had a polite tone the whole time.

"Hello, please complete payment for the strawberries. I've shipped all ten cartons to you, and you can't just use AI to fake rotten fruit images to force a platform refund.

"You said you needed them to make desserts, so I went out of my way to pick the ripest ones for you. I already gave you every discount I could manage. This really isn't a small sum of money for me."

But Laurel acted as if she couldn't understand basic human speech. Operating under my name, she started spouting utter garbage.

From the log, I saw Dave explaining his situation over and over again. He even took the initiative to tell her that, due to medical reasons, he was unmarried and childless. However, he had spent the last few years sponsoring three students, which added to his heavy financial strain.

One of the students had just finished their SAT and got into a prestigious college, while the other two were already in college. He was carrying their entire tuition and living expenses entirely on his own.

Every line he wrote was a desperate plea for Laurel to show him mercy, but her reply made my vision go momentarily dark with rage.

"If you don't have the financial ability to sponsor students, that's your own problem. People only end up childless because they've done immoral things in life. Are you just trying to build up good karma now?

"If you want to play the saint, stop asking for money, or it won't just stop at being childless."

Dave fell into a long silence after that, before replying with a single line. "Don't push me."

I locked the screen and shoved the phone back into Laurel's hand. She was dead asleep with a faint smile hanging on her lips.

The anger I had been suppressing exploded. The strawberries averaged about 20 dollars per carton, which meant the total bill was 200 dollars.

I had sent Laurel the money, yet not only did she refuse to pay, but she also used my name to humiliate Dave relentlessly. No wonder he had been driven to his breaking point.

In the end, she dumped all the blame on me and had me killed.

The truth behind the trap Laurel had set up for me was likely uglier than I had imagined.

My expression turned cold as I lunged forward and slapped her right across her face. But to my surprise, the slap immediately woke her up.

Her eyes weren't fully open yet, and she looked utterly dazed.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped.

Before she could say another word, the doorbell rang.

Judging by the timeline, this was the time Dave had broken in and stabbed me to death in my past life.

Laurel went rigid all over, and all traces of sleepiness vanished from her face.

As the doorbell rang with increasing frantic urgency, she leaped off the couch and raced to the door before I could, forcing her usual soft whine into her voice.

"Coming! Coming! Stop buzzing!"

When the door opened, a man in his forties stood outside. Pure rage was written all over his face, and he clenched a fruit knife in his hands.

"You bought my strawberries and stiffed me on the bill. I think you know why I'm here, don't you?"

Colors completely drained from Laurel's face when she saw the knife in his hand. Just like in my past life, she scurried behind me and immediately shifted all the blame to me.

"Dave, it was Laurel! She was the one who wanted to make strawberry mousse glacee and refused to pay you!"

Then, she turned on and roared, "Laurel! I told you not to make things difficult for him, but you just had to use AI to fake photos of rotten fruit to force a refund from the app's customer service!

"Now that he's right here at our door, deal with your own mess and don't you dare blame me! I know absolutely nothing!"

With a sudden, violent shove, she pushed me toward Dave's knife. What she didn't realize, however, was that she was the one who should panic right now.