Chapter 1
"Aimee, haven't you made enough of a scene?"
Melvin's voice was low, cold with irritation.
He grabbed my wrist and yanked me away from the whispering guests, hauling me straight up to the second-floor study.
Click.
The door shut us in, instantly cutting off the glitz and glamour downstairs.
"Humiliating me like that down there... Is that all you've learned in 3 years?"
He let go, yanked at his tie, and dropped into the heavy leather chair behind his desk. Just like that, he was back to being the Melvin who controlled everything.
I looked down at the red mark on my wrist and stayed quiet.
He probably thought I was waiting for an explanation—or a way to save face.
So, he leaned back, softening his tone just enough to sound like he was soothing a moody pet.
"Look, I know you feel slighted, but Shannon's different. She's from a small town. I'm literally the only person she knows here.
"If I don't back her up, how is she supposed to make it in a crowd like this?
"Your cake was amazing—way better than last year's. But come on, praising you out there would've just crushed her.
"You've always been the reasonable one, Aimee. Why blow something so small out of proportion?"
I just listened, feeling like I was hearing about someone else's life.
So all my effort, all my time... was just "something small" to him.
Seeing my silence, Melvin's patience snapped.
He pulled a document from the drawer and slid it across the desk.
"Fine. Stop throwing a fit. Consider this your compensation."
Bold letters stared back at me from the cover: Investment Proposal: Starlight Dessert Studio.
He tapped the folder, his tone dripping with condescension.
"I know how much this little hobby means to you, so I'm funding a studio for you.
"That way, you'll actually have something to do with your time.
"Give it one more year. Once Shannon settles in, we'll go get our marriage certificate."
He emphasized marriage, totally convinced it was an offer I'd crawl back for.
I flipped the proposal open.
The terms were crystal clear: Melvin was the sole investor with a 90% stake.
The entire brand belonged to the Barrett Group.
For the first 5 years, every cent of profit would go straight back to repaying his initial cash.
And me? As the founder, I got 10% non-voting shares and a monthly salary of $4,500 as lead baker.
A dry laugh escaped me.
"Melvin... is this an investment, or are you just hiring a glorified employee?"
He frowned, looking genuinely baffled.
"What's the difference? You get to do what you love, and I supply the money and the platform. How is that a bad deal?
"Don't get greedy, Aimee.
"People would kill for an opportunity like this."
Right. People would kill for it.
Too bad I didn't care anymore.
I snapped the folder shut and pushed it right back across the wood.
"No, thank you."
His face went dark. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means our deal is off."
I looked him dead in the eye, keeping my voice dead even.
"Three tests. If I fail, I walk away and never push it again.
"Your words, Mr. Barrett.
"Strike three. I'm out. We're done."
Melvin stared at me as if he'd never seen me before, the usual smug control in his eyes shattering.
I unclasped the cufflinks from my wrist and set them on top of the proposal.
He'd given them to me on a whim the very first time I baked for him, calling them an early promise ring for his future bride.
"Here. Take these back, too."
I turned on my heel and walked toward the door.
"Aimee!"
He shoved his chair back, a flash of panic in his voice he probably didn't even notice.
"You walk out that door tonight, and where do you think you're going?"
I grabbed the cold brass handle without turning around.
"Somewhere I don't have to wait another year."
