Chapter 8 - The Last Thing Victor Reed Wanted
Police surrounded the building.
Emma arrived before anyone could stop her.
Caleb caught her halfway across the street.
“You are not going inside.”
“Mrs. Brooks is in there.”
“So is a desperate man.”
“She’s alone.”
“No, she has police.”
“She doesn’t know them.”
“Emma.”
“She knows me.”
Caleb grabbed both her shoulders.
For once, his calm disappeared.
“I am not losing you because you think caring about someone means you have to sacrifice yourself.”
The words stopped her.
She had spent years doing exactly that.
Skipping meals.
Covering shifts.
Paying prescriptions.
Accepting insults.
Calling everything “nothing.”
She looked toward Evelyn’s third-floor window.
“What do we do?”
“We let professionals do their jobs.”
Victor solved the argument.
He called Emma.
“Come upstairs.”
Police traced the call instantly.
Emma put it on speaker.
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn wants to see you.”
Evelyn’s voice came faintly through the phone.
“Don’t you dare come up here, Emma!”
Victor swore.
A crash followed.
Emma went white.
Victor returned.
“Ten minutes.”
The call ended.
Negotiators took over.
Twenty-seven minutes later, Evelyn walked out.
Alone.
Everyone stared.
Emma ran to her.
“How—?”
Evelyn looked irritated.
“He went down the fire stairs.”
Police moved instantly.
Victor had used Evelyn as a distraction.
He escaped into the neighboring construction site.
But Evelyn carried something.
A small recorder.
“He talked too much,” she said.
Caleb stared.
“You recorded him?”
“I worked for your grandfather for thirty-two years. You think this is my first arrogant man?”
Even Caleb laughed.
Victor had confessed enough.
Fraud.
Forgery.
Arson.
Blackmail.
And then, believing he had nothing left to lose, he mentioned Caleb’s father.
Not a murder confession.
But close.
Your father should have kept his mouth shut that night. I only wanted the files. He chose the window.
The reopened investigation would determine the rest.
Victor was arrested six hours later at a private airfield.
For the first time in weeks, Emma slept.
The next morning, she woke to Caleb making coffee in her kitchen.
Or attempting to.
Smoke rose from the machine.
“What did you do?”
He looked offended.
“Coffee.”
“That machine has survived twelve years. You’ve been here nine minutes.”
“It lacks intuitive design.”
“It has one button.”
“Poorly labeled.”
Emma laughed.
Caleb stared at her.
“What?”
“I like that sound.”
She became shy.
He crossed the kitchen.
“Do it again.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“Absolutely not.”
He tickled her.
She shrieked.
Evelyn banged on the wall from the bedroom.
“If you two are going to behave like teenagers, get me earplugs!”
They froze.
Then both started laughing.
For several weeks, life almost became simple.
Almost.
Caleb returned as CEO.
The board removed two directors connected to Victor.
Richard accepted a plea deal and agreed to testify.
Tessa pleaded guilty to a lesser fraud-related charge but avoided jail because of her cooperation.
She resigned from Maple & Rye.
Emma did not ask her to stay.
Forgiveness, Emma learned, did not require returning people to the positions from which they hurt you.
Maple & Rye was rebuilt under the Brooks Community Trust.
The insurance payout covered construction.
Caleb offered additional money.
Emma refused.
Then Evelyn intervened.
“Stop turning poverty into a personality trait.”
Emma stared at her.
Evelyn continued.
“There is dignity in surviving without money. There is no dignity in refusing legitimate help just to prove you can suffer longer.”
Caleb wisely said nothing.
Emma glared at him anyway.
“You agree with her.”
“I value my life too much to answer.”
Eventually, they compromised.
Whitmore Urban would provide a low-interest restoration loan to the trust, governed by an independent community board.
Emma would manage the bakery.
Not as an employee.
As a partner.
For the first time, her name appeared on a business document beside the word OWNER.
She cried in the bathroom where nobody could see.
Caleb found her anyway.
“You okay?”
“Go away.”
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Your mascara—”
“Caleb.”
He smiled.
Then handed her a tissue.
Three months after the blind date, Maple & Rye reopened.
The line stretched around the block.
Emma wore a cream dress Evelyn had chosen.
Caleb arrived late.
She crossed her arms.
“You’re four minutes late.”
He stopped.
Then smiled.
“I was considering filing a formal complaint.”
She laughed.
The same joke.
Different world.
He kissed her.
Customers applauded.
Emma hid her face against his chest.
Later, when the crowd disappeared, they sat alone at a small bakery table.
Caleb looked unusually nervous.
Emma noticed immediately.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He smiled.
Then reached into his jacket.
Emma’s heart stopped.
He pulled out—
A key.
She stared.
“That better not be what I think.”
“What do you think?”
“A penthouse.”
“No.”
“A car.”
“No.”
“A yacht?”
“Do I seem like a yacht person?”
“Yes.”
“Fair.”
He placed the key in her palm.
“It’s for the apartment upstairs.”
Emma frowned.
Maple & Rye’s building had two vacant floors.
“What apartment?”
“The one I’d like to renovate.”
“For?”
“Us.”
Her breath caught.
Caleb quickly continued.
“Not marriage. Not yet. I know three months is insane. I’m not proposing.”
Emma stared.
“You’re asking me to live above my workplace?”
“Yes.”
“With you?”
“Potentially.”
She smiled slowly.
“You’re really bad at romance.”
“I had a difficult first date.”
Emma leaned across the table and kissed him.
Caleb relaxed.
Then she whispered:
“Ask me again in six months.”
His face fell.
She laughed.
“See? Now you know what suspense feels like.”
What neither of them noticed was the woman standing outside the bakery.
Tessa.
She held an envelope.
Inside was a letter Victor had written before his arrest.
May you like
And across the front were four words:
FOR EMMA COLLINS ONLY.
