Chapter 3
My father placed the financial papers face down on the table.
Then he stepped between Evelyn and me.
"We need to talk."
Evelyn laughed.
"About what?"
Dad looked directly at her.
"The business."
Her smile disappeared.
Vanessa folded her arms.
"Seriously? Maya just embarrassed us in front of everyone, and now you're going to start an argument?"
I stared at her.
"Embarrassed you?"
She rolled her eyes.
"With those ridiculous cake pops."
I felt my chest tighten.
"They won."
Vanessa looked away.
Dad turned toward her.
"Your sister earned that award."
She stared at him.
For a moment, she looked shocked.
Evelyn stepped forward.
"Gabriel, she's not Vanessa's sister by blood."
The words struck me.
Dad's face changed.
"Don't say that."
Evelyn laughed bitterly.
"It's the truth."
He shook his head.
"The girls have lived together for fourteen years."
Vanessa looked down.
For one brief moment, I wondered whether she felt ashamed.
Then she crossed her arms again.
"Dad, you always take Maya's side."
I nearly laughed.
For years, Dad hadn't taken my side.
When Evelyn criticized my baking, he told me to be patient.
When Vanessa claimed credit for my recipes, he said sharing was part of working together.
And when I injured my eye, he believed Evelyn's explanation that I'd been careless.
I had learned to stop complaining.
But now something was changing.
Dad looked at Vanessa.
"Did you move the syrup container before Maya's accident?"
Her face went pale.
Evelyn immediately interrupted.
"What?"
Dad repeated the question.
Vanessa swallowed.
"I don't remember."
I stared at her.
Six weeks earlier, she'd told everyone I had placed the container incorrectly.
Now she couldn't remember touching it.
Dad opened his phone.
He showed the footage.
Vanessa's expression changed.
Evelyn leaned closer.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Vanessa said:
"I was organizing."
Dad looked at her.
"Why did you put a heavy container near the shelf edge?"
She shrugged.
"I didn't know Maya would use it."
My stomach tightened.
I stepped forward.
"You knew I was preparing sugar decorations the next morning."
Vanessa glared at me.
"Don't accuse me."
I felt tears rising.
"I'm asking why you moved it."
She didn't answer.
Dad took a slow breath.
"We're going to have the footage reviewed and report the incident properly."
Evelyn looked furious.
"Gabriel, you're treating your own family like criminals!"
He stared at her.
"My daughter was injured."
I felt my throat tighten.
For years, I'd wanted him to say those words.
My daughter.
Not the troublesome employee.
Not the jealous stepsister.
His daughter.
Evelyn stepped closer.
"Vanessa would never hurt Maya."
Dad looked toward the video.
"Then she should be willing to explain what happened."
Vanessa began crying.
I watched her carefully.
I had seen her cry before.
Whenever she wanted something.
Whenever Dad questioned her.
Whenever Evelyn needed a reason to accuse me of being cruel.
But this time, the tears looked different.
She seemed frightened.
Evelyn grabbed her arm.
"We're leaving."
Dad blocked the doorway.
"Not until we discuss the company accounts."
Her face changed.
"What accounts?"
He held up the highlighted statement.
"V&E Culinary Holdings."
Vanessa stopped crying.
For a moment, the room became completely silent.
Then Evelyn laughed nervously.
"That's a business venture."
Dad nodded.
"Whose?"
She hesitated.
"Mine."
"And Vanessa's?"
Evelyn looked away.
He took a breath.
"Why has Carter Family Bakery paid your company ninety thousand dollars?"
She folded her arms.
"Consulting fees."
My stomach tightened.
"What consulting?"
Evelyn glared at me.
"Stay out of this."
Dad raised his hand.
"No."
She turned toward him.
He continued.
"Maya works for the bakery. She's entitled to ask questions about business practices that affect her."
I stared at him.
For years, Evelyn had told me I should be grateful for employment.
Now Dad was finally recognizing that I belonged there.
He asked Evelyn for supporting invoices.
She said the files were at her office.
He requested copies.
She refused.
Then she shouted:
"You're humiliating me!"
Dad looked toward the door.
"We can discuss this privately with the accountant."
Evelyn stared at him.
Then grabbed Vanessa and left.
The door slammed.
I stood motionless.
My heart was pounding.
Dad turned toward me.
"Maya?"
I looked up.
Then started crying.
He rushed toward me.
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head.
"Dad..."
He held me.
For a moment, I felt like a little girl again.
The little girl who used to fall asleep on his shoulder while Mom finished decorating cakes.
I had missed feeling safe with him.
He stroked my hair.
"I should've paid more attention."
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
I wanted to say it was okay.
But it wasn't.
So I whispered:
"Yes."
He nodded.
"I know."
We sat together for several minutes.
Then I asked about the bakery.
Dad explained that profits had been declining even though sales remained strong.
Evelyn blamed rising ingredient costs.
Vanessa blamed employee wages.
But the accountant found unusual payments.
Some invoices appeared to come from companies associated with Evelyn.
Others were missing supporting records.
I felt sick.
"Did they steal from the bakery?"
Dad answered carefully.
"We're investigating whether payments were improper."
I nodded.
Then I asked:
"What about Mom's recipes?"
His face tightened.
"That's another concern."
I swallowed.
My mother had developed dozens of recipes before she died.
They were written in three leather journals.
Chocolate cakes.
Fruit fillings.
Buttercream formulas.
Wedding designs.
The journals were kept in Dad's locked office.
Evelyn controlled the key.
Vanessa sometimes photographed recipes for production.
But Mom had always wanted the collection preserved for me.
Dad reached into his jacket.
Then removed a letter.
My mother's handwriting appeared across the envelope.
My heart stopped.
"Where did you get that?"
Dad's eyes filled.
"From our old estate files."
I stared.
He handed it to me.
The envelope was addressed:
FOR MAYA, WHEN SHE IS READY TO BUILD HER OWN BAKERY.
I covered my mouth.
My mother had died when I was fourteen.
I hadn't seen her handwriting in years.
My hands trembled.
Dad whispered:
"She wanted you to have this."
I stared at him.
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
His face crumpled.
"I didn't know it was there until the accountant reviewed the records."
Tears filled my eyes.
I carefully opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
I read the first line.
"My sweet Maya, if you're holding this, I hope you're still baking."
I began sobbing.
Dad held my shoulder.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
And everything changed.
Because Mom hadn't simply left me her recipes.
She had also left instructions concerning her ownership of the bakery.
Instructions Evelyn had never mentioned.
I looked at Dad.
Then whispered:
"Dad, did you know Mom left me part of the business?"
May you like
His face went pale.
And I realized our family's biggest secret had been sitting inside a locked office for nine years.
