Chapter 6
The folder contained photographs, letters, and several business documents.
But the first file was a video.
Its title made my heart stop.
FOR MY MAYA.
I stared at the screen.
My hands began trembling.
Dad stood beside me.
His eyes filled.
"Sweetheart..."
I shook my head.
"I need to see it."
He nodded.
Tasha quietly stepped away.
I clicked PLAY.
My mother appeared on the screen.
She was sitting in the bakery kitchen.
Her hair was wrapped in a colorful scarf.
She looked tired.
But she was smiling.
"Hi, baby girl."
I covered my mouth.
Her voice.
I hadn't heard it in nine years.
She continued.
"If you're watching this, I hope you're doing something that makes you happy."
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
Mom laughed softly.
"Maybe you're baking."
I began sobbing.
Dad placed an arm around me.
On the screen, Mom looked toward the oven.
Then back at the camera.
"I want you to know something."
Her voice grew serious.
"Never let anyone convince you that your talent belongs to somebody else."
My heart pounded.
She continued.
"The recipes I taught you are part of our family's history."
I wiped my cheeks.
"But they are not chains."
She smiled.
"If you want to become a baker, I hope you create things I never imagined."
I began crying harder.
Then Mom took a breath.
"Your father and I prepared documents to protect your future."
Dad stared at the screen.
She continued.
"I want you to have choices, Maya."
Her eyes filled.
"Choices about education. Work. Love. Everything."
Then she said something that made my stomach tighten.
"If someone ever tells you that you don't belong in this bakery, remember that you were part of its story before you could even walk."
I closed my eyes.
For years, Evelyn had told me I didn't belong.
Now Mom was speaking directly to that wound.
The video continued.
"I love you, sweetheart."
Her voice broke.
"And I will always be proud of the woman you become."
Then the screen went dark.
I collapsed into Dad's arms.
For several minutes, I couldn't stop crying.
He held me tightly.
"I'm sorry, baby."
I shook my head.
I couldn't speak.
All I could think about was Mom.
Her voice.
Her face.
Her love.
And the years I'd spent believing that losing her meant losing my place in the family.
Finally, I sat down.
Dad brought me water.
Then I opened the remaining files.
There were photographs of recipes.
Notes about ingredient suppliers.
Design sketches.
And copies of documents related to Mom's bakery ownership.
One file contained a list of recipes she intended to develop into a separate product line.
The name was simple.
NAOMI'S GARDEN.
I stared at it.
The flower-shaped cake pops I'd made for the competition suddenly felt even more meaningful.
Mom had been planning a collection of desserts inspired by flowers.
She had never completed it.
I hadn't known.
My hands trembled.
"Dad..."
He leaned closer.
I showed him the folder.
His eyes widened.
"Naomi's Garden."
I nodded.
He smiled through tears.
"She talked about that."
My chest tightened.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"She wanted to create desserts inspired by the flowers in our backyard."
I looked down.
For a moment, I felt as though I'd found a hidden piece of my mother.
Then another file caught my attention.
A draft agreement with a local catering company.
It discussed licensing certain recipes.
There were proposed royalties.
Branding terms.
And restrictions on transferring the recipes without approval.
I frowned.
"Dad, did this ever become a real agreement?"
He looked carefully.
"I don't remember."
We sent the documents to Denise Whitaker for review.
She reminded us that recipes and business rights required careful legal analysis.
Some protections depended on contracts.
Others on trade secrets, trademarks, or company ownership.
I listened.
I wasn't interested in making claims we couldn't support.
I wanted to preserve Mom's work properly.
That afternoon, Dad's accountant called with another discovery.
The payments to V&E Culinary Holdings included invoices for "brand development" and "recipe licensing."
I felt sick.
The company had billed our family bakery for access to recipes it already used.
The accountant was reviewing whether those charges were legitimate.
Dad looked furious.
I had never seen him so angry.
But he didn't shout.
He asked for copies.
Requested a full accounting.
And directed the company to suspend nonessential payments to V&E pending review.
I felt proud.
For the first time, he was protecting the business Mom helped build.
Then my phone rang.
Vanessa.
I almost ignored it.
But something told me to answer.
"Hello?"
Her voice was sharp.
"Maya, what have you done?"
I took a breath.
"What do you mean?"
"Dad froze Mom's business payments!"
I looked toward Dad.
He was speaking with the accountant.
I returned my attention to Vanessa.
"That's between them and the company."
She laughed bitterly.
"You think you're so clever."
I felt tired.
"Vanessa, I don't want to argue."
She snapped:
"You've been jealous of me our entire lives!"
My chest tightened.
I looked toward the kitchen.
The place where she had watched Evelyn humiliate me.
Then I asked something I'd wanted to ask for years.
"Why do you hate me?"
For a moment, she went silent.
Then she whispered:
"Because Dad loved your mother more than he'll ever love mine."
My stomach dropped.
I stared at the phone.
Vanessa began crying.
"He still talks about Naomi."
I swallowed.
"Vanessa..."
She interrupted.
"Every holiday. Every anniversary. Every time someone praises a cake, he says Naomi would've done it differently."
I closed my eyes.
For the first time, I heard something beneath Vanessa's cruelty.
Pain.
Jealousy.
Fear of never being enough.
But her pain didn't excuse how she'd treated me.
I took a breath.
"Vanessa, I never asked Dad to compare us."
She began sobbing.
"You don't understand."
I looked down.
"Then help me understand."
For several seconds, she was quiet.
Then she whispered:
"Mom told me if you became the face of the bakery, we'd lose everything."
My heart tightened.
"What?"
Vanessa took a shaky breath.
"She said your inheritance would take the business away from us."
I stared at the wall.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"That's why she told me to make sure you couldn't compete."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"Vanessa..."
My voice trembled.
"What exactly did you do before my accident?"
May you like
She went completely silent.
And I knew the answer might be worse than anything I'd imagined.
