The screams were a wake-up call from my so-called fantasy. As if splashed with ice cold water, the solemn mood I had put myself into broke its realms and I was transported back to reality.

I blinked, putting aside the ganache filling, and getting myself back to the present. The screams hadn't been loud. But the sound had pierced my ear as if it was a siren's personal message for me. All around me, people were either alarmed and startled, or confused and perplexed, whispering to each other and asking what was happening.

My hand quivered as the images of the most horrifying scenarios conjured up in my mind. In that moment, the influx of these thoughts—shook me to the core. I didn't need to say anything to Brandon, he was one step ahead. Throwing his apron on the floor, he took in a deep breath, and before anyone—the security or the crew members looking for the source of disruption—could stop him, he ran out of the counter. Alone.

Frozen at my spot, I watched his athletic body swallow up the distance between us and the building in few fast strides. The security was behind him, finally catching up, and running towards the building as well.

A silence settled over the area. I couldn't breathe. Time ticked by too slow, each second a torture to remain in the dark, restless to get a clue out about what was happening. My vision remained engraved on Brandon's back. A few meters away from the building, Brandon stopped. The trail of security guards came to a halt as well. I took a hesitant step forward, afraid to see what Brandon was witnessing. What was it? What had made Bea and Bella scream like that?

The answers laid in front of Brandon. I didn't have the confidence to see it. Coward. That's who I was. Timelessness settled over the crowd as everyone waited for the verdict.

A shadow appeared out of the door. My heart constricted. What if—no I couldn't think like that. Just as I thought I would go insane with the silence, Bea stepped out, and then Bella close behind. I hurried forward to the edge of the stage, and like mine, everyone's attention stayed glued on the two of them.

Breathless and worried, I scanned the two of them from afar, checking for injuries or wounds. I couldn't decipher any. Though they walked in a timid manner, their steps short and hesitant, and posture as if shielding themselves from something. The figures behind them showed me why. Bella's bodyguards. Or I should say—her captors.

The flash of metallic glint in the hands of one of the Alard's men sent a shiver down my spine. Did they...? The thought was too terrifying for me to complete.

Brandon escorted Bella and Bea back to the seats. The captors stuck close to them. One diverged from the herd, going over to talk to the security guards. Everyone took this in without a word. No person questioned, asked, or talked. Silence. The bodyguards settled around them, making me groan out in frustration. What a show they were putting on under the pretence of guarding Bella. They were the real threats to her! I turned away before I went bonkers because of them.

It was then when I had calmed down, did I register the angry faces of the director and the production crew around us. Shit. The cameras had been fixed in their places, surrounding us from all sides, and capturing our every move. How in the world did I forget about their presence? And this whole time when Bea had faked her injury, Brandon had gone out, and I had worried over Bella, the camera had been rolling, and recording nothing useful at all. We hadn't even baked!

The image of my cake popped up in my head, and with a gasp, I realised that I had been so caught up in the drama, that our cake had stood alone; forgotten. I rushed over to the counter, and saw that the cake was a gooey mess with the fillings dripping from the cracks. A disaster waiting to be corrected and fondled back into its primal shape.

Struck with the severity of the situation, I snapped my head to the timer. Thirty-five minutes left. It wasn't enough, I hyperventilated. It wasn't enough at all. Brandon was jogging back up to the counter, like an angel in this time of distress.

"What happened?" I hissed when he was in hearing range.

Brandon patted my back, shielding me from the audience's view, and whispered in my ear, "They pointed a gun at the doctor."

"What?" I shouted, baffled, "On an innocent person?"

Brandon blinked furiously, darting his eyes around. I understood his signal and kept our profile low. "He wasn't a doctor though. Kiki's man."

Relief washed over me. "Oh." He wasn't someone who would be scarred easily then. Though I couldn't say about Bella and Bea, settled in the audience, oozing nervousness and distractedness.

"You better close that mouth and concentrate on the cake." Brandon went over to the sink, and washed his hands. "Time's running out."

I took his words to my heart. Thirty minutes and a whole cake to pull off. Some would call us mad for even attempting to do the impossible. But we were made of coarser material. Even if the cake ended up looking like a lopsided cartoon, there was no 'giving up' in our dictionary. So, through the heat of the afternoon, Brandon and I worked on creating the so-called impossible masterpiece.

Layers of layers ganache piled up. I wetted the knife in the hot water, and then slathered it on to the cake, smoothening out the cervices and any uneven texture. Brandon had artfully applied the tier supporters, and laid the cakes on top of each other. The top one looked a little crooked but there wasn't anything we could do about it now. Filling the piping tool with hot pink frosting, I worked through the cake to make zebra print stripes. It was easy compared to the work Brandon was doing. Spray painting the bow he had crafted out of the fondant, he sprinkled silver edible dust on top of it. I nodded in appreciation, satisfied with the result. Using gum paste, we stuck the bow on the top, carefully attaching its overflowing ends till the bottom.

"Two minutes left!" Patrick shouted to inform all of us.

Blood drained from my face as I saw the wicked timer closing on to the twelve hand. No, not yet! "Brandon, get the pearls."

He didn't reply and skidded to the refrigerator and took out the small perfectly rounded chocolate balls. As delicious as they looked, they were of no use to us without the silver glitter. I hurried and pick up the machine, putting a good amount of silver dust inside.

"Not like this." Brandon took the machine from me. Instead of spray painting each pearl like I was going to do, he spread them over on the bottom of the plate, randomly coating the top of it.

I nodded. It might get the tray a little messy, but it was the most efficient method if we wanted to even add the pearls as an ornament on the cake. "Did we miss something?" I checked over, turning the cake on its stand to look for missing spots, or any messed up part. It was a relief when everything appeared to be seamless. But it wasn't quite there yet, I thought wordlessly.

"Thirty seconds!"

I grumbled. Why were they so enthusiastic about reminding us about the time and creating unwanted tension?

"Here." Brandon handed me the plate with the pearls.

They sparkled with a silver hue as I laid them down on the cake, careful to not overcrowd any particular section. Brandon whispered for me to hurry up, and I did, as fast as I could. I couldn't throw in the pearls and call it a day. The missing piece that this cake had needed, the object that tied the whole cake together, I realised—this was it.

"Time's up!"

A whistle pierced through the air, startling me. I raised my hand up, backing away from the cake, Brandon doing the same. A few pearls remained in my hand, not making it on the cake. I felt bad for their fate...because they went straight into my mouth.

I chewed on the chocolaty goodness, my mouth filled with the thick aroma and texture as it quenched my inner chocolate goddess. The sugar in my system calmed my nerves down and my heartbeat returned to normal. There was one reason why I was so relaxed. Or why Brandon was grinning. Or why I sported a small smirk. Or why Bella and Bea were standing up and giving their all in the applause that followed.

We had done it.

Right in front of us stood an approximate twenty two inch tall cake. The tiers were close to black color, made up of the richest and darkest chocolate, swirled into one seamless perfection. Hot pink frosting sparkling with silver dust gave it a supreme sheen, as sparkly as the dresses a bachelorette party would have. On top of the cake sat the majestic bow, a beautiful pink fusion, flowing down in a flawless manner to rest at the bottom of the plate. Then, there were the pearls, the highlight of our cake. It might not have been the most gorgeous cake ever baked, but it was beautiful and elegant, and a tad bit wild in its own right. And we both were freaking proud of it.

"We did it," I whispered, not able to contain the glee from escaping into my voice. We stepped aside as the cleaning crew came up to clear the counters, and the cake went to shoot its own drama with the cameraman. I nudged him, feeling light as if a weight had lifted off of my chest. "Brandon?"

I turned, confused at his silent treatment. Was he not happy with the cake? I voiced the same concern, but again, got no reply. Belatedly, I realized that his hands were fisted, and they were quivering with increasing frequency. Worried about him, I shook his arm, and tried to make him look at me. But his vision was fixed on one single person. My arms fell limp to my sides when I saw the man Brandon had been glaring at.

Alard Rousell. He was here. His presence an irremovable blotch on the happiness that we had painted.

"Where's Bella?" I asked, searching for both Bea and Bella.

The question made Brandon blink, and he tore his gaze away from Alard to look for her. Alard was casually sipping a cocktail, talking with the judges like this was a house party he was hosting, a hand in his pocket and a smile on his face.

I had never felt angry seeing a man happy before. But right now, I couldn't fathom how he could dare to smile when he was torturing his daughter so ruthlessly.

"Not here, Tyler. Shit!"

"I know. Where do you think she is?" I sweated, wiping my palms off the sides of my dress. I couldn't lose them like this. If Bella didn't get out of this trap right now, I had no idea how long she would be stuck in his cage. Maybe forever.

"Tyler and Brandon." We straightened up at the mention of our name. With the cameras on standby, the director walked towards us, his expression speculative.

I bit my lip, reminded of his earlier state. "Yes, sir?" We were screwed, I thought. What if he said we were disqualified for the commotion?

He stopped in front of Brandon. "Good work."

"What?" I shouted, almost losing my footing.

The Director laughed, shaking his head, and walking away. "You gave us some good footage. It'll be interesting." The way he said it was just short of rubbing his palms together and licking his lips. He sounded that pleased with this catch.

I was surprised that he was surprised that something surprising could happen in this already too surprising competition. Like, wasn't he used to me already?

The loudspeaker came on. "All the cakes are being transported to the banquet."

True to their words, I saw our cake being transported by a group of experts, carefully carrying the domineering height to the back of the kitchen arena. It felt safer in their hands than mine. I couldn't comprehend the disasters that could have occurred otherwise. The monotonous voice came back on, "Contestants assemble in the banquets in the next twenty minutes."

I nodded to myself, eyes wandering around to catch a trace of Bea or Bella.

Out of the blue, Brandon hissed, "There's Bella!" He pulled on my hand, pointing to a retreating figure going around the corner of the backstage and towards the exit. He began running, and I sprinted after him, struggling to keep up. My eyes roamed around the place, and then in a horrifying occurrence, met with Alard's amused eyes. I looked away immediately. That was definitely a bad omen.

"Brandon, are you sure?" I said, heaving.

"It was definitely her." He paused, letting me catch my breath.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I picked it up right away. "Hello?" Brandon had began walking (half jogging) towards the back gate, and I followed him, phone tucked under my chin and shoulder.

"Tyler? It's me, Kiki." She sounded worried over the phone, and I paused, waiting to hear her out, "I heard what happened. Where are you?"

I looked around, keeping Brandon in sight as he searched for Bella amidst the crew. "I'm at the back gate. The one being used to carry out cakes. Brandon saw Bella here."

"You've to get her out of here, Ty. I'm sending my men."

She couldn't see but I still nodded. "Okay. I'll try my best."

"Not your best, Tyler. Give it your all."

The phone line disconnected. Gingerly, I put my phone back in the pocket, searching for Brandon. Instead of him, I saw the flash of brown hair and pale skin, and a herd of black behind her; Bella. Hoping Brandon would catch up soon, I stalked forward to the retreating figures. The bodyguards had dwindled down to two, and Bella was alone, her arms wrapped around herself. She didn't notice me watching her from afar and neither I approached them. I couldn't go in without some plan. Otherwise it would be plain suicide.

A hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I gasped, turning towards the perpetrator. "Shh," he hissed, "I'm with Kiki."

I nodded, recognizing the face. Still staring at Bella, I observed that she and her bodyguards were waiting for a car. This was the moment, but what was I supposed to do? Sweat dripped down from my face as I tried to make use of some grey matter in my head and think of an escape plan. I hadn't come up with a thing when the action started. From behind me, the bodyguard charged towards Bella's bodyguards, and in one swift movement banged the bodyguard's head to his knee. Bella screamed, and my scream followed, because out of nowhere came the rush of Kiki's men.

It was as if I had been transported into an action movie in a matter of seconds. What the hell were they doing?! I saw Bella cowering in a corner, and ran to her aid.

"Bella!" I ducked, between the bodies of fighting men, making sure to not let them land a punch on me. "Come here!"

"Tyler, what's happening?" she shouted, her feet already moving towards me, protecting her face and head with her hands.

"Happening? This is your escape happening, Bella!" I shouted, manoeuvring through the fists and kicks for a safe ground.

The scene had turned into a disaster. From the two bodyguards I had previously noticed, they had tripled in the time I had reached to Bella. Was there a reserve bank for them or something? Where did they keep coming from? Same for Kiki's men.

Her hand wrapped around mine, I pulled her out of the battleground and with me.

"Stop!" someone shouted, and momentarily startled, we doubled our speed and began to run. "Stop right there, Isabela!"

"Faster," I breathed, increasing our pace.

I looked around. The crew members were backing off and running away from the fight scene. Where was Brandon? "Here!" one of the Kiki's men shouted. We swivelled in that direction, our heel clad feet making the run harder. He was holding a SUV's door open, and when he saw us running towards him, he walked off and got himself in the driver's seat.

"Fast, go inside." I pushed Bella in first, waiting for her to settle. My eyes searched for Brandon, but I still couldn't spot him in the crowd.

"Come in!" Bella shouted.

"But the competition—" I shut myself up when I saw a man running towards us. Heartbeat fast, I struggled to hop inside the car and shut the door before he could catch us. With my feet inside, I slid the door shut on his face. Turning to the front, I shouted, "Drive!"

The engine groaned to life, and I grinned, smelling the upcoming freedom. It shattered when the front door opened and the man who had been chasing us sat in. He had a phone tucked under his ear. "Sir, I'm in the car to the airport, Isabela's running away—"

He didn't get to complete the sentence. The butt of the gun in the driver's hand connected with his head with a satisfying thud, and the man sank in his seat, unconscious. The driver picked up the phone and disconnected the call.

"Oh my god." The voice made me and Bella yelp, and we turned to see the same cameraman who had been assigned to me from the hotel room to the bus ride sitting on the seat opposite to ours. He had his camera pointed on us, his face ashen at the appearance of a gun.. "What the hell is happening here?"

"You start the engine," I said to the driver, and then turned to the damn pest-like cameraman, "And you shut that camera off."

"No way! We have this cake." He shifted in his seat, revealing the three tier hot pink and chocolate coloured cake sitting behind him in the refrigerated area.

Bella slapped his camera away. "Stop recording or I'll sue you."

The engine started, and we pulled out of the driveway. "Which way?" the driver asked.

I looked at Bella, and then at my cake, my mind blank for a second. There was only one thing I could choose at this moment. With a trembling heart, I licked my lips. If we went to the airport, the cake will go with us... What about the competition then? Bella seemed to notice my hesitance. I couldn't meet her eyes. The decision bore heavy on my shoulders.

"Which way?" he asked again.

I gulped, closing my eyes. "To the airport."

*****

Dedicated to my South African readers