“So someone else did,” Becca murmured.
And then it hit her.
Not relief.
Not gratitude.
Power.
They would think she had help.
They would think she wasn’t as alone as they believed.
Izzy backed away like the room had shifted under his feet. “Who did you get to do this?”
“I didn’t,” she said honestly.
“And even if I did that is no longeryour problem!”
But that answer didn’t satisfy him.
His eyes searched her face, suspicious now, unsettled. “You expect me to believe you didn’t plan this?”
Becca closed the laptop and finally looked at him the way she should have a long time ago — not with love, not with hurt.
With clarity.
“I didn’t plan anything,” she said. “But someone did.”
The realization landed hard between them.
Whoever it was…
They had moved fast.
Quietly.
Decisively.
And they had put the shop in her name.
Somewhere, far from that house, far from that moment, a man was already several steps ahead — watching pieces fall exactly where he’d intended them to.
Becca didn’t know his name.
But for the first time in a long time…
She wasn’t the weakest person in the room.
Later, after Izzy left — after the door closed and the house settled back into silence — Beccasat alone at the kitchen table and finally let the full picture come into focus.
She had always planned to buy the shop.
Every extra shift. Every long day. Every dollar tucked away instead of spent. She’d been patient, disciplined, careful. The shop wasn’t just a business to her — it was proof that she’d built something real with her own hands. She just hadn’t been ready yet.
And Izzy knew that.
What he didn’t know — what he never bothered to understand — was how close she already was.
