Run: 2026-03-18-01KM07D59TJ78W9MAMA44DNWAC

The bell over the door gave a soft jingle, and the smell of cinnamon and warm butter seemed to curl around the new arrivals. Flour dust lay like late snowfall on the counter; loaves cooled on racks beside a tray of jam tarts. “Have you seen the note yet?” Mara asked, nudging a paper packet with her thumb. “It was tucked under the breadboard,” said Theo, sliding the packet toward her. “Who does that, anyway?” “The kind of person who thinks we don’t notice,” Mara replied, lifting the corner of the paper. The handwriting looked sharp, almost angry. “It just says, ‘Stop polishing the truth, or the oven goes cold.’” Theo gave a nervous laugh. “The oven going cold would be tragic. Also… not exactly a threat. It’s a baking disaster.” Mara leaned in, lowering her voice as the mixer rumbled in the back. “Someone wants me to back off. About the fundraiser. About the missing donation.” “The jam tarts are still here,” Theo said, gesturing at the tray like it could prove something. “Maybe the truth is just… hidden in plain sight.” Mara’s eyes flicked to the cooling rack. “Hidden under a loaf, maybe. Or under a recipe card.” Theo tapped the packet. “Then we find out what it’s really pointing to.” Mara reached for a tart, but her fingers paused. “All right,” she said, voice steady. “Let’s start with what’s been taken—before the next batch disappears.”