and into my face. Twenty people were staring at me. I could hear the whispers starting. I could feel their doubt settling over me like dust.

Edward leaned in, just enough for me to see the satisfaction in his eyes. “Maybe running a business is a little harder than baking cookies in Grandma’s kitchen.”

And in that moment, I was back in our old kitchen, being told it was all my fault. My throat closed. My pride crumbled. I opened my mouth to apologize—to him, to everyone—just to make it stop.

That’s when the door to the dish room swung open.

Part 5: The Gift Bag

Nicole stepped out.

She had been back there for several minutes. I had assumed she was loading the dishwasher. But her face was completely calm—too calm for a sixteen-year-old who had just heard her father humiliate her mother in front of a crowd.

“Dad,