Chapter 12 - Collateral Damage
I pushed through the glass doors of the bakery, the bell chiming loudly above my head.
The smell of fresh sourdough and cinnamon, usually so comforting, made me feel nauseous today.
Valerie was behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine with a bright smile on her face.
When she looked up and saw me, her smile faltered.
She knew me too well now.
She could read the panic in the tight line of my jaw.
"Carter?" she wiped her hands on her apron, stepping out from behind the counter.
"What's wrong?"
"Where is Lucy?"
"Lucy is fine," I said quickly, pulling her into a gentle hug to reassure her.
"She’s at school."
Before I could explain, the door to the back office opened.
Mr. Henderson, the sweet older man who owned the bakery, walked out.
He looked pale and utterly defeated.
He held a piece of paper in his trembling hand.
"Valerie," Mr. Henderson started, his voice cracking.
"I don't know how to say this."
Valerie pulled away from me, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"What is it, Henry?"
"Did the health inspector come back?"
"No," he whispered, looking down at his shoes.
"The building was sold this morning."
"The new landlords are doubling the rent and terminating my lease."
Valerie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
"They can't do that!"
"We have a contract!"
"There's a buyout clause," I interjected quietly, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Mr. Henderson looked at me, tears brimming in his eyes.
"They offered me a deal," he confessed, his voice filled with shame.
"They said they would honor the original lease and let me stay."
"But only on one condition."
Valerie looked between Mr. Henderson and me, the realization slowly dawning on her face.
"They want you to fire me," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Mr. Henderson broke down, covering his face with his hands.
"I'm so sorry, Valerie."
"This bakery is my retirement."
"It's all I have left."
Valerie didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She stood incredibly still, absorbing the brutal reality of what my world was doing to hers.
"It's Arthur Vance," I told her, my voice thick with guilt.
"Chloe's father."
"They're trying to punish me by hurting you."
I reached for her hand, desperate to hold onto her.
"I can fix this, Val."
"I'll drain my accounts."
"I'll buy the building myself."
Valerie gently pulled her hand out of my grasp.
The rejection felt like a knife to the chest.
"No, Carter," she said, her voice frighteningly calm.
"You can't buy a building every time they throw a tantrum."
She turned to Mr. Henderson and offered him a soft, reassuring smile.
"It's okay, Henry."
"I accept my termination."
"You keep your bakery."
She reached behind her neck, untied her apron, and folded it neatly on the counter.
"Val, please," I begged, following her as she walked toward the door.
She stepped out onto the busy Los Angeles sidewalk, the midday sun reflecting off the pavement.
She turned to face me, and for the first time since I met her, her eyes were burning with absolute fury.
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"I am not a pawn, Carter," she said fiercely.
"And I am done running."
