Dallas seemed to pause for a moment, then, as if a lightbulb went off in his head, added, "Oh and don’t touch the pink Ferrari. That’s Emma’s birthday gift."
The comments section exploded with laughter and mockery, but Sandro wasn’t fazed. He opened a drawer, revealing a stash of car keys.
Wait, what was this?
There were keys for a Lincoln, a Ferrari, an Audi, a Cayenne... each one more valuable than the last.
The audience went silent in shock.
[This has to be fake! How could they possibly have all these? They’re definitely fake!]
Even the host, caught off guard, had no idea how to react.
"Emma, why does your family have so many car keys?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.
I recalled Dallas’s words and gave a nonchalant shrug. "He loves collecting models. That’s probably what they are."
[See? It’s just impossible for them to have real cars. No way they’d have a whole drawer full of keys!]
[Such bald-faced lies! But, you know, it’s kind of entertaining.]
[It’s not hope; it’s delusion.]
The conversation slowly fizzled out as Sandro pulled out an e-bike key.
"If it’s nearby, this will be more convenient," he said with a casual air.
"I’m heading out to get the cake."
A bold viewer tagged Elite Reverie Cakes’ official account.
[@Elite_Reverie_Cakes (Fort Worth HQ), come spill the tea. Did anyone from this family place an order today?]
Soon, the comment section was flooded with tags and sure enough, the Elite Reverie Cakes account responded.
[No, sorry. Our owner said we’re not accepting orders today due to unavoidable circumstances.]
The truth had been revealed and the audience erupted, enjoying the drama unfolding.
[Ha! The truth’s out. How far can they push this act? Can’t wait to see.]
[Knew it! Another fabrication exposed.]
I frowned, biting my lip at the response.
My brothers often bought me little cakes, claiming they were from a friend's bakery with discounts that couldn’t sell out. It always had the same name.
Maybe it was just a coincidence.
While the mockery continued, Dallas, on screen, began glancing around with the suspicion of a thief.
He slipped into my room, drawing the audience's attention.
Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he reached for my piggy bank.
The viewers were on edge, wondering what he’d do next.
With a quick, practiced shake, two coins fell from the bank, clinking softly.
The audience fell silent, stunned into disbelief.