CHAPTER 1 — THE QUEEN OF BURNED BISCUITS
THE QUEEN OF BURNED BISCUITS
CHAPTER 1 — THE QUEEN OF BURNED BISCUITS
The morning Nathaniel Mercer laughed for the first time in seven years, a housekeeper dropped a silver tray, the gardener ran in from the rain, and three executives standing in the hallway forgot the multimillion-dollar contract they had come to discuss.
Nathan stood in the kitchen with one hand pressed against his chest, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
Across from him, the new cook wore a stainless-steel mixing bowl on her head like a crown.
Flour streaked her cheek. Biscuit dough covered both arms.
She stared at him as though she had just witnessed a man rise from the dead.
In a way, she had.
“Bow before the Queen of Burned Biscuits,” Evelyn Walker declared.
Nathan laughed harder.
Then he noticed the people staring through the doorway.
His laughter stopped.
The old darkness returned to his eyes.
Evelyn slowly lifted the bowl from her head.
“Don’t.”
Nathan frowned.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t apologize for sounding alive.”
No one spoke.
For seven years, Nathan Mercer had been known as the billionaire who never smiled.
His wife, Claire, had died on a fog-covered mountain road seven years earlier. Her car had gone through a guardrail at 11:43 p.m.
The police called it an accident.
Nathan called it the night his life ended.
Since then, Mercer Estate had become a museum of grief.
Dark curtains.
Quiet hallways.
Locked rooms.
No music.
No parties.
No laughter.
And absolutely no unnecessary conversation.
Evelyn had apparently missed that memo.
She picked up the ruined tray of biscuits.
“These are supposed to be golden brown.”
Nathan stared at them.
“They're black.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was distracted.”
“By what?”
“You.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow.
“Me?”
“You walked into my kitchen looking like you were about to fire the refrigerator.”
One of the executives coughed to hide a laugh.
Nathan looked at him.
The man immediately became serious.
Evelyn pointed at the biscuits.
“See? This is what happens when rich people stand around intimidating food.”
Nathan almost smiled again.
Almost.
Then Evelyn noticed the watch on his wrist.
Her expression changed.
It was an old leather watch.
Cracked glass.
The hands were frozen at 11:43.
“That's an interesting time,” she said.
Nathan's face hardened.
“It's not a subject for conversation.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Understood.”
She turned back to the stove.
But her eyes lingered on the watch for one extra second.
Nathan noticed.
He always noticed.
That was how he had built his empire.
Nothing escaped Nathan Mercer.
Except the truth about his wife's death.
“Mr. Mercer,” one executive said carefully, “the board meeting—”
“Cancel it.”
The executive blinked.
“But the acquisition—”
“Cancel it.”
He walked out.
Evelyn watched him disappear.
Then she quietly whispered:
“Seven years.”
Nathan stopped in the hallway.
He turned.
“What did you say?”
Evelyn looked innocent.
“I said the biscuits need seven more minutes.”
He stared at her.
She smiled.
Nathan walked away.
For the first time in years, something unfamiliar followed him upstairs.
The sound of a woman's laughter.
That evening, Evelyn explored the kitchen after everyone had gone.
Ruth had warned her about the house.
She had not warned her about the loneliness.
The kitchen was enormous.
Granite countertops.
Copper pans.
A commercial oven.
A refrigerator larger than Evelyn's first apartment.
But none of it felt luxurious.
It felt unused.
Like someone had built a beautiful kitchen and then forgotten food was supposed to be made there.
Evelyn opened a cabinet.
Everything was perfectly organized.
She opened another.
Same.
Then the third.
Nothing.
She frowned.
“Who organizes spices alphabetically?”
“Someone who doesn't cook.”
She spun around.
Nathan stood in the doorway.
He had changed into a dark sweater.
“No assistants?”
“No.”
“Security?”
“Outside.”
“Good.”
He stepped into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for something.”
“What?”
“Cinnamon.”
He pointed.
“Second shelf.”
She found it.
“Thanks.”
Nathan remained there.
“You're not afraid of me.”
Evelyn smiled.
“Should I be?”
“Most people are.”
“Most people probably don't wear mixing bowls.”
He almost smiled.
Again.
Evelyn noticed.
“You almost did it.”
“Did what?”
“Smile.”
“I didn't.”
“You absolutely did.”
Nathan shook his head.
“You're going to be trouble.”
“Probably.”
She sprinkled cinnamon into a bowl.
Nathan turned to leave.
Then Evelyn noticed something strange.
A faint scratch on his watch.
Near the number four.
She stared.
“Mr. Mercer?”
He stopped.
“What?”
“Was that watch damaged in the accident?”
Nathan went completely still.
“How do you know there was an accident?”
Evelyn's hand froze.
“I—”
“You've been asking questions.”
“No.”
“You've been watching the watch.”
She swallowed.
“Your wife died at 11:43.”
Nathan's expression became cold.
“Who told you?”
“Ruth.”
“Ruth wouldn't discuss Claire with you.”
“She didn't.”
Nathan stepped closer.
“Then how do you know?”
Evelyn looked directly into his eyes.
“I've seen that watch before.”
Nathan's face changed.
“Where?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“At my grandmother's house.”
Silence.
Nathan's heart began pounding.
“What?”
“My grandmother kept a box of old things.”
“What does my wife's watch have to do with your grandmother?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why did you say you've seen it?”
“Because I'm certain.”
Nathan stared at her.
Evelyn reached into the pocket of her apron.
She pulled out an old photograph.
It showed a younger Claire Mercer.
Standing beside a woman Nathan recognized immediately.
His late wife's hand rested on the woman's shoulder.
Nathan whispered:
“Who is that?”
Evelyn turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting on the back.
Nathan recognized Claire's handwriting instantly.
His blood ran cold.
The message said:
If anything happens to me, find Evelyn's grandmother. She knows the truth.
Nathan looked up.
Evelyn's face had gone pale.
“Her name was Margaret Walker.”
Nathan took one step backward.
“Your grandmother?”
Evelyn nodded.
“My grandmother.”
Outside, thunder rolled across the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Nathan stared at the photograph.
For seven years, he had believed Claire's final moment occurred at 11:43 p.m.
May you like
Now, for the first time, he wondered if the truth had started long before that.
And the woman standing in his kitchen might be the only person alive who could help him find it.
