Fucking.
Chen.
The floor drops out from under me.
“Oh,” I whisper. “Oh, you absolute piece of…”
I stop myself, breathing through my nose, because if I start screaming now, I may not stop.
My hands are shaking, but not with fear. With rage. Cold, focused, surgical rage.
This isn’t an accident. This isn’t Leo being clueless or overenthusiastic. This isn’t him stepping on a landmine because he doesn’t know how kitchens work.
This is a move. Contracts. Phases. A Letter of Intent.
He didn’t just mess up.
He sold us.
I drop the tablet onto the stainless counter like it’s radioactive. Like it might infect the place if I hold it too long. I don’t trust myself not to throw it through the window.
My hands shake as I grab my phone and punch Tess’s number from memory.
She picks up on the third ring.
“Hey, G,” she says, small and tired. “I’m almost home from the store…”
My throat tightens.
“Boss,” I say, my voice so quiet it scares even me. “You need to come back to the bakery. Right now.”
There’s a pause. Traffic hums in the background. Her footsteps.
“Gwen… what is it?” she asks. “Did I forget…”
“You need to come back,” I repeat, my voice cracking straight through the steel. “Because that, because that son of a bitch…”
I swallow hard, forcing the words past the fury clawing up my chest.
“That billionaire intern of yours,” I finish, each syllable sharp enough to cut glass, “just sold us.”
The line goes silent.
I picture her face. The way her jaw sets when something precious is threatened. The way she goes very still before she goes nuclear.
“Send me a photo,” she says quietly.
I do. Hands still shaking.
“Don’t touch anything else,” she adds. “I’m coming back.”
The call ends.
I lean against the counter and close my eyes. For the first time since Leo Ashford walked into our bakery in an Armani tracksuit, I’m not worried about croissants, tourists, Yelp reviews, or surviving another week of influencer bullshit.
I’m worried about Tess.
Because I know that look she gets when someone threatens the soul of this place. I’ve seen it before, vendors cutting corners, landlords getting greedy, suits sniffing around, asking how fast we can “grow.”
