CHAPTER FIVE HUNDRED AND FIVE – THE SPILL-OVER

The tension in La Dulce Vida had been building for weeks, a pressure cooker of suspicion and resentment just waiting to explode. On a busy Saturday afternoon, it finally did. The bakery was bustling with customers, the air thick with the aroma of freshly baked bread and the chatter of patrons. Camila was at the front counter, carefully arranging a display of intricately decorated cupcakes, when Mateo emerged from the kitchen. "Camila," he called, his voice tight with frustration, "we need to talk about the new recipe for the tres leches cake. The texture is all wrong." Camila's back stiffened, her hands freezing mid-motion. "There's nothing wrong with my recipe," she said, her voice dangerously low. "Maybe if you followed it correctly instead of trying to 'improve' it, we wouldn't have this problem." Mateo's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I don't know how to bake? I've been doing this longer than you've been alive, niña." The customers nearest to them fell silent, sensing the crac