Chapter 3 - The Broken Bakery
I stared at the live video feed on my phone in absolute, paralyzing shock.
The men in the dark suits were systematically destroying the glass display cases in my beloved bakery.
"I have to go right now, Maya," I said, kissing her cheek before sprinting out of the hospital room.
I drove recklessly across town, running two red lights in my desperate attempt to save my livelihood.
By the time I pulled into the bakery parking lot, the dangerous men were already gone.
Shards of shattered glass covered the sidewalk like a blanket of dangerous winter ice.
I walked through the broken door frame, crunching glass beneath my boots with every single step.
Everything I had painstakingly built over the last ten years was completely ruined.
White flour coated the floor, the expensive ovens were smashed, and the cash register was ripped entirely open.
I noticed a crisp white envelope taped securely to the only mirror that remained intact.
I tore it open and read the neatly typed message waiting inside.
"Accidents happen to women who do not know when to mind their own business."
They wanted to terrify me into silence, but they had severely underestimated a mother's rage.
I had spent twenty-two years as a forensic auditor, and I knew exactly how to destroy arrogant men.
I pulled out my laptop and connected to the bakery's hidden, undamaged backup server.
I had never stopped acting like an auditor, even when I was just selling cupcakes and bread.
I began tracing the complex routing numbers listed on the forged loan documents I had found.
The stolen money did not go to a legitimate real estate venture anywhere in the state.
It was funneled directly into an offshore shell company registered in the Cayman Islands.
The primary registered agent for the shell company was Lorraine Whitman, Ethan's wealthy mother.
They were running a massive embezzlement ring, and Maya was their designated, disposable scapegoat.
I printed out the damning banking records and placed them safely in a secure folder.
I needed to get this undeniable evidence to my former boss at the state attorney's office.
As I walked out of the ruined bakery, a sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb.
The tinted window rolled down, revealing Lorraine wearing her signature pearls and a cruel smile.
"Such a terrible shame about your little shop, Nora," she mocked softly.
"You are going to federal prison for the rest of your life, Lorraine," I promised her.
May you like
She laughed and tapped a perfectly manicured finger against her leather steering wheel.
"You should really check on your daughter, because she just signed a voluntary psychiatric hold," Lorraine sneered.
