Leo:Did you get there?
Leo:Do you need anything?
Leo:I'm nearby if you need me.
James demanded and accused. Leo offered and protected. The realization hurt in a completely different, complicated way.
***
Olivia tried to work. She went out to the prep tables to test a new raspberry reduction, but her hands did not feel like her own. She measured the sugar wrong. She forgot to temperthe eggs, a step she had done a thousand times before. The mixture curdled, ruining the entire batch.
Sam noticed her frustration. He stepped up beside her, gently taking the whisk from her hand without making a big deal of it. "I got this, boss. Go take a break."
Olivia felt a crushing mix of gratitude and humiliation. She had built this place. She knew every recipe by instinct. But today, James's betrayal had followed her into the one place she used to feel competent.
She retreated to the walk-in pantry, leaning her forehead against the cool metal shelving. She squeezed her eyes shut. She almost cried, but she forced the tears back down. She had orders to fill. She could not fall apart yet.
She walked back out to the front counter to help Elena bag a large catering order.
The small bell over the front door chimed.
Olivia did not look up immediately, but she felt the entire atmosphere in the room shift.
"Olivia?" Elena asked, her voice tight. "James is here."
Olivia froze. She looked toward the front of the bakery.
James stood near the display cases. He was dressed in a tailored suit, looking composed and perfectly put together. He wore the expression of a deeply worried husband rather than a man who had been caught committing fraud. He was holding a tray of her favorite iced coffees, using tenderness as a public performance.
The sight made Olivia feel physically sick.
He had not come to apologize. He had not come to make things right.
He had come to take back control.
Chapter 11
Olivia
Olivia froze behind the counter. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, her pulse spiking as she stared at the man walking through the glass doors of her bakery.
James looked like the perfect husband. He was dressed in a tailored navy suit, impeccably composed, carrying two of her favorite iced coffees. His brow was creased with an expression of deep concern—a look that might have seemed so tender to anyone who did not know what had happened the night before.
But Olivia saw the performance now.
The concern on his face did not reach his eyes. His posture was too rigidly controlled. His expression was too calculated, acutely aware of the employees wiping down tables and the customers standing near the register. She remembered the coldness in his voice when he told her she did not understand what she had found. She remembered how effortlessly he tried to make her feel unstable, even with the forged documents trembling in her hands.
Maria halted mid-sentence, noticing Olivia’s abrupt stillness. The other employees felt the shift in the atmosphere, too, though they tried their best not to stare.
James walked straight toward the counter, greeting her with careful, seemingly genuine affection. "Liv, sweetheart, I'vebeen worried sick." He set the coffees down. "You weren't answering your phone. I had to make sure you were okay."
The words sounded loving. The intention beneath them felt like a vice tightening around her ribs.
Olivia felt the trap at once. If she reacted with the anger burning inside her, she would look unhinged and unreasonable in front of her staff. If she stayed polite, he gained control of the narrative.
"What are you doing here, James?" she asked, keeping her voice carefully measured.
"We need to talk," he said.
