he could feel it.
I looked at him, then down at the pages scattered on the table. And suddenly, the hair in the icing wasn’t just a petty, cruel stunt. It was the final piece of something I should have seen long ago.
I had thought Edward hated the bakery because I built it without him. But that wasn’t it.
“You thought Grandma’s house would end up benefiting you,” I said.
His expression faltered. Vanessa turned to look at him. I kept going.
“You thought I’d stay. Even after the affair. You thought I’d close my eyes, keep the family together like a smart wife, and one day everything Grandma had would become part of our future.”
“Claire—”
“But I left. And Grandma helped me build a future that had nothing to do with you.” I looked at the dark hair lying across the icing. “You weren’t trying to prove
my bakery was dirty. You were trying to prove I never deserved it in the first place.”
His face hardened. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You told our daughter this place would fail. Then you came here to make sure it did.” I stepped closer. “I watched you take something out of that napkin and put it in the icing.”
“Then prove it.” He spread his arms wide. “Go on. Nobody else saw anything.”
Nicole’s small smile returned. “Okay, Dad.”
She reached beneath the counter and lifted the bakery tablet—the one connected to the security cameras she had insisted we install when we opened.
And I knew exactly what she was about to do.
“You want proof?”
She turned the screen toward the room.
There they were at table four, clear as day. Vanessa sliding her purse into place. Edward unfolding his napkin, pulling something out, leaning over the cinnamon roll, and
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