Chapter 5
Evelyn refused to answer my question.
Instead, she told Dad he was making a terrible mistake.
"Gabriel, you're letting Maya manipulate you."
I stared at her.
For years, those words had worked.
Whenever I complained about Vanessa, Evelyn called me jealous.
Whenever I questioned an invoice, she said I was too young to understand business.
Whenever I asked Dad for help, she accused me of trying to destroy his marriage.
But this time, Dad didn't move.
He stood beside the kitchen island.
His expression was calm.
"Show me the trust documents."
Evelyn folded her arms.
"I don't have them."
"Then tell me where they are."
She looked away.
"I don't remember."
Dad stared at her.
"You told me the trust was settled."
She shrugged.
"That's what I recall."
I felt anger rising.
But Dad raised his hand.
"Enough."
For a moment, the kitchen went silent.
He turned toward me.
"Maya, go get some rest."
I shook my head.
"Dad, I need answers."
He nodded.
"And you'll get them."
His voice softened.
"But tonight, I need to make sure we're handling this properly."
I looked at him.
For the first time, I understood he wasn't asking me to disappear.
He was trying to keep the situation from becoming another shouting match.
I nodded.
Then went upstairs.
My bedroom still held photographs of Mom.
One showed us baking together when I was ten.
I wore a yellow apron.
She wore a white chef jacket.
We were both covered in flour.
I sat on the bed.
Then began crying.
I missed her.
I missed her laughter.
Her hugs.
The way she always smelled like vanilla and orange zest.
And I missed the certainty that someone would protect me without asking whether I deserved it.
I touched the photograph.
"Mom, I wish you were here."
For a long moment, I sat quietly.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Vanessa.
"You're destroying this family over money."
I stared at it.
Another message arrived.
"You always wanted Dad to hate us."
My hands trembled.
I started typing a response.
Then stopped.
I didn't owe her another argument.
I saved the messages.
Then turned off my phone.
The following morning, Dad took me to the bakery.
It was closed to customers.
The staff had been given the day off while our accountant reviewed records.
Evelyn and Vanessa weren't there.
I felt relief.
For the first time in months, the kitchen seemed peaceful.
I walked toward the shelf where Mom's old recipe journals had been stored.
The cabinet was open.
The journals were gone.
My stomach dropped.
"Dad!"
He hurried toward me.
"What?"
I pointed.
"Mom's books."
His expression changed.
He looked inside.
Nothing.
Three leather journals.
Years of recipes.
Gone.
I felt tears rising.
"Evelyn had the key."
Dad took a slow breath.
Then called our office manager, Tasha Morgan.
Tasha had worked at the bakery for fifteen years.
She knew my mother.
And she had always been kind to me.
When she arrived, Dad asked about the journals.
Her face changed.
"Mrs. Evelyn took them yesterday."
My stomach tightened.
"Where?"
Tasha hesitated.
"She said she needed them for a business meeting."
Dad looked at her.
"What business meeting?"
Tasha shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then she swallowed.
"But I think you should see something."
She led us into the office.
There, she opened a folder containing recent vendor correspondence.
Several emails had been sent from the bakery's business account.
The recipient was V&E Culinary Holdings.
I recognized the name immediately.
Tasha opened one message.
Evelyn had written:
"We can launch the new brand once the Carter recipes are transferred."
My hands went numb.
Transferred?
I looked at Dad.
His face was pale.
Tasha continued.
"The new company requested copies of several recipe files."
I felt sick.
"Did they receive them?"
She nodded.
"Some."
I looked toward the kitchen.
The place where my mother had spent countless nights developing flavors.
Now those recipes were being discussed like assets that could simply be moved to another business.
I felt angry.
But also frightened.
What if the journals disappeared permanently?
What if Vanessa launched a company using Mom's work?
What if I never got the chance to preserve it?
Dad placed a hand on my shoulder.
"We'll deal with this."
I looked at him.
"How?"
He took a breath.
"We'll preserve the emails and consult the attorney."
I nodded.
For once, he wasn't promising something impossible.
He was taking action.
That afternoon, Denise Whitaker called.
She had obtained preliminary estate records.
My mother's trust had been created properly.
But the records showing how the bakery shares were administered after her death were incomplete.
Some documents appeared to be missing.
Others required examination.
Dad sat beside me during the call.
He looked devastated.
Denise explained that a detailed accounting would be necessary.
The trust's financial history needed to be reconstructed.
And the business transactions involving V&E Culinary Holdings would be reviewed separately.
I listened carefully.
Then asked:
"Can Evelyn sell Mom's shares?"
Denise answered:
"Not simply because she manages bakery operations. Ownership and transfer authority depend on the governing documents."
Relief washed through me.
Then she added:
"We'll need to secure the relevant records."
I nodded.
After the call, I looked toward Dad.
He was staring at the wall.
"Dad?"
He turned.
His eyes were filled with tears.
"I failed you."
My chest tightened.
He continued.
"I spent years thinking I was protecting this family by keeping everyone happy."
I swallowed.
"But I wasn't paying attention to what was happening."
I looked down.
For a moment, I wanted to comfort him.
Then I remembered the nights I'd cried alone.
The times Evelyn called me useless.
The way Vanessa mocked my eye patch.
The years I spent feeling like a stranger in my mother's bakery.
I took a breath.
"Dad, you can't fix this with one apology."
He nodded.
"I know."
I looked at him.
"But you can start listening."
His eyes filled.
"I will."
We sat quietly.
Then the bakery's front door opened.
Tasha entered carrying a small cardboard box.
She looked nervous.
"Maya, I found something."
I stood.
"What?"
She placed the box on the counter.
Inside was an old external hard drive.
My heart pounded.
Tasha continued.
"Your mother used this to back up her recipe photographs and development notes."
I stared.
"Where was it?"
"In the storage room."
She swallowed.
"Evelyn told me to throw it away last year."
My stomach tightened.
"But I couldn't."
Tears filled my eyes.
Tasha smiled sadly.
"Naomi was my friend."
I reached for the drive.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I whispered:
"Thank you."
But when we connected it to the office computer, we discovered something unexpected.
Alongside the recipes was a folder labeled:
MAYA'S FUTURE — PRIVATE.
I stared at the screen.
Then looked at Dad.
Neither of us had ever seen it before.
May you like
And suddenly, I realized my mother had left behind another secret.
One that might explain why Evelyn had been so desperate to keep me away from the bakery.
