Chapter 5 - The Millionaire's Secret
Grace held up the phone.
“Tell me this is fake.”
Dominic looked at the photograph.
“It isn't.”
Her stomach dropped.
“You knew Adrian before you met me.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Eight months.”
Grace laughed once.
“You told me you'd been eating my food for seven years.”
“I had.”
“You told me you'd never met me.”
“I hadn't.”
“But you met Adrian.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dominic glanced toward the employees.
“Not here.”
“No.”
Grace stepped closer.
“You don't get privacy now.”
Maya and Tasha quietly moved toward the back room anyway.
Dominic waited until they were gone.
Then he spoke.
“Adrian approached me eight months ago about selling Whitaker & Rose.”
“I know.”
“He was desperate.”
“That part I didn't know.”
“The company had debt.”
Grace frowned.
“How much?”
“Nearly nine million.”
She stared.
“That can't be right.”
“It is.”
“We were profitable.”
“Operationally.”
“Then where did the money go?”
“Expansion. Real estate. Personal distributions. Bad investments.”
Grace felt sick.
Adrian had spent money as though success were permanent.
“He wanted eighteen million from you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To clear debt and retain enough capital to make the transaction attractive.”
Grace looked at the photograph.
“And who paid Adrian?”
Dominic's face became still.
“I did.”
Grace's chest tightened.
“How much?”
“Two hundred fifty thousand.”
“For what?”
“Exclusivity.”
She stared at him.
Dominic continued before she could speak.
“It was standard. A deposit preventing him from negotiating with competing buyers during due diligence.”
“Did you know about my recipes?”
“Not initially.”
“When did you know?”
“Three months ago.”
“And you didn't contact me.”
“I tried.”
“Through Adrian.”
“Yes.”
Grace laughed bitterly.
“Convenient.”
“I asked for you three times.”
“You could have found me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
That finally silenced him.
Grace's eyes burned.
“Because I wasn't important enough?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because I made a mistake.”
The admission surprised her.
Dominic Vale did not look like a man accustomed to saying those words.
“I believed Adrian when he said you wanted nothing to do with corporate matters. He described you as private. Temperamental. Uncomfortable around clients.”
Grace's face burned.
“Temperamental.”
“I eventually stopped believing him.”
“When?”
“When every chef I interviewed gave a different answer about who developed the products.”
“And then?”
“I investigated.”
Grace remembered the first day.
The black card.
Thirty-seven.
Twelve.
Eight.
G.W.
“You knew before you walked into the bakery.”
“I knew you were probably the creator.”
“Probably?”
“I needed confirmation.”
“And my firing gave it to you.”
Dominic nodded.
Grace looked away.
It hurt.
Not because Dominic had betrayed her in the same way her family had.
Because she had wanted him to be uncomplicated.
He wasn't.
Nobody was.
“Did you put the binder in your penthouse?”
“No.”
“Can you prove it?”
“I hope so.”
“That's not good enough.”
“I know.”
Grace took off her apron.
Dominic's expression changed.
“What are you doing?”
“Going home.”
“Grace—”
“I need one day without a Whitaker or a Vale deciding what's best for me.”
He stepped aside.
“Okay.”
No argument.
No command.
Grace left.
For the next day, she answered nobody except Naomi.
Police reviewed the penthouse security footage.
The binder had been delivered inside a catering crate.
The delivery company had received instructions from an email address designed to resemble one belonging to Dominic's assistant.
Someone was constructing evidence.
Naomi believed Adrian.
Dominic believed Maison Laurent.
Grace believed evidence.
Then Vanessa called.
“I found something.”
Grace almost didn't answer.
“What?”
“Dad's old accounting backups.”
Grace closed her eyes.
“Vanessa, please don't tell me there's another secret.”
“There is.”
Of course there was.
They met at Naomi's office.
Vanessa brought a hard drive.
The files revealed payments from Maison Laurent to a shell company.
The shell company belonged to Adrian.
But that wasn't the surprise.
The first payment had occurred four months before Thomas Whitaker died.
Grace stared at the date.
“Dad was alive.”
Martin Hale looked stunned.
“Thomas would never have authorized this.”
Vanessa opened another document.
An email.
From Adrian.
To Maison Laurent.
Subject:
G.W. FORMULAS.
Grace read the message.
Attached are the requested formulations. My sister does not participate in corporate decisions and need not be included.
Her vision blurred.
Ten years of being told she wasn't business-minded.
Ten years of being kept out of meetings.
It had not been accidental.
Excluding her made stealing easier.
Naomi asked Vanessa, “Why are you helping?”
Vanessa looked at Grace.
“Because I was awful to her.”
Grace said nothing.
Vanessa's voice shook.
“I let myself believe she was jealous of me.”
“Sometimes I was.”
Vanessa blinked.
Grace continued.
“You got praised for things I made. Of course I was jealous.”
“I knew.”
Grace looked at her.
That hurt.
Vanessa wiped her eyes.
“I knew, and I liked it.”
Silence.
“I liked walking into rooms where people thought I was the creative one. I liked magazine interviews. I liked being photographed beside cakes I couldn't make.”
Grace looked down.
Vanessa continued.
“But I didn't know Adrian was selling your work. I swear.”
Grace believed her.
Not because Vanessa deserved immediate forgiveness.
Because the confession sounded ugly enough to be true.
Naomi copied the files.
By afternoon, they had enough evidence to seek an emergency injunction.
Maison Laurent's attorneys called within hours.
Then Adrian called.
Grace finally answered.
“You're destroying Dad's company,” he said.
Grace nearly hung up.
Instead she asked, “Why did you sell my recipes?”
Silence.
“We needed cash.”
“So you stole.”
“They belonged to Whitaker & Rose.”
“Dad's agreement says otherwise.”
“Dad was sentimental.”
“No. Dad was fair.”
“Dad was dying.”
Grace froze.
Adrian continued.
“He wasn't thinking clearly.”
“Be careful.”
“You think he understood what he signed? Martin manipulated him.”
Grace's anger finally broke through.
“You stole from me while Dad was alive.”
“I saved the bakery!”
“You saved yourself.”
“I made this company!”
Grace laughed.
“You couldn't make the cake sitting three feet from you.”
Adrian went silent.
Grace lowered her voice.
“You called me dead weight.”
“I was angry.”
“No. You were honest. You genuinely thought the person doing the work mattered less than the person taking credit.”
“Grace—”
“You were wrong.”
She ended the call.
That evening Dominic came to her apartment.
He did not knock repeatedly.
One knock.
Then he waited.
Grace opened the door.
He held no flowers.
No expensive gift.
Only a folder.
“What?”
“Evidence.”
She let him in.
Dominic placed the folder on her kitchen table.
Inside were bank records.
The $250,000 exclusivity payment.
Every document.
Every email.
Everything proving his explanation.
Grace read them.
“You didn't have to give me confidential documents.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“Because trust without evidence is stupidity.”
She looked at him.
“That sounds romantic.”
“I wasn't trying to be romantic.”
“Good.”
Pause.
“Was that disappointing?”
Grace almost smiled.
“Maybe.”
Dominic smiled too.
Then he became serious.
“There is something else.”
Grace groaned.
“Of course.”
“I canceled the Whitaker acquisition permanently.”
“That doesn't surprise me.”
“I also terminated Maison Laurent from every Vale property.”
Grace looked up.
“Because of me?”
“Because they committed fraud.”
“Good answer.”
Dominic leaned against the counter.
“I don't want you dependent on me, Grace.”
She studied him.
“Then don't make me dependent.”
“I won't.”
“Don't fight battles I haven't asked you to fight.”
“I'll try.”
“Don't rescue me.”
“Never.”
“And don't stand in my kitchen doorway looking like that.”
He frowned.
“Like what?”
“Like you're waiting for applause.”
For once, Dominic Vale laughed.
A real laugh.
Grace did too.
The tension broke.
Not entirely.
But enough.
Then Grace's phone rang.
Naomi.
Grace answered.
“What's wrong?”
Naomi's voice was urgent.
“The forensic accountant finished reviewing Whitaker & Rose.”
Grace sat down.
“And?”
“The missing royalties aren't the biggest problem.”
Dominic's smile disappeared.
Naomi continued.
“Grace, someone has been signing your name on financial documents for six years.”
Grace went cold.
“What documents?”
A pause.
May you like
Then Naomi answered.
“Loan guarantees.”
