Her Secret Sauce, Her New Life

Chapter 2

At midnight, the last batch of sauce in the workshop was sealed in jars.

I sent a termination notice in the supplier group chat for the eighteen stores, closed the ordering system, and had Avery Taylor change the warehouse door lock.

Avery, having studied sauce‑making with me for seven years, called in a panic after seeing the notice.

Avery asked, "The seventeen established stores are all waiting for ingredients tomorrow morning. Are you really stopping?"

"Cut them off," I said.

Avery asked, "Does Mr. Martinez know?"

"He doesn't need to know," I replied.

The moment I hung up, Robert called.

Robert said, "Emily, are you done causing trouble? It's the new store's opening day, are you deliberately trying to embarrass me?"

"The contract states that if payment is overdue by more than sixty days, I have the right to stop supply. The seventeen stores owe the workshop $890,000, with the longest overdue period being ten months," I said.

Robert said, "Since when do husband and wife keep tabs on debts?"

"The stores are under Isabella's name. She is not my wife," I said.

Robert was rendered speechless for a moment, then warned in a cold voice, "Deliver the goods before 6 o'clock tomorrow morning. If business is delayed, you can't afford the consequences."

I hung up.

There were no beds outside the ICU. I sat against the wall until dawn.

At seven in the morning, Charlotte hurried over carrying a thermos.

She hadn't come to see Grace, but had to get the appraisal certificate for the gold pendant.

Charlotte said, "Richard's school has an event today. Isabella said wearing the gold pendant would look nice in photos. Where's the certificate?"

I looked at her. "Grace is still not out of danger," I said.

Charlotte said, "Didn't the doctor say the surgery was successful? She's not that fragile."

"My mother paid to have the gold pendant made for Grace," I said.

Charlotte's face fell.

Charlotte said, "What does a girl need a gold heirloom for? She'll marry into another family sooner or later. Richard doesn't carry the Martinez name, but he can provide for Robert in his old age. You can't give birth to a healthy son, yet you won't let us dote on someone else's child?"

In the ICU, Grace seemed to hear her voice. Her fingers moved slightly.

I stood up to block the window.

"Get out," I said.

Charlotte's eyes widened. "You dare throw me out?" she asked.

"If you don't leave, I'll call security," I said.

She left cursing, throwing one last barb over her shoulder, "Eighty thousand dollars to fix a bad heart, with that money Richard could attend private school for two years."

I gripped the door handle tightly and didn't chase after her to argue.

Grace needed me. I couldn't collapse.

At 10 in the morning, all eighteen stores simultaneously ran out of sauce.

The store managers called one after another begging for stock. I only sent them the list of overdue payments.

At noon, Robert rushed to the hospital.

He pushed open the door and asked, "Where's the warehouse key?"

I was wiping Grace's face, without even looking up.

"No," I said.

Robert said, "There are dozens of tables waiting in the restaurant. Do you have to pick today to go crazy?"

Grace had just woken up and weakly called out for Dad.

Robert glanced at her, his brow furrowing.

Robert said, "Good that you're awake. Dad's got business to take care of. I'll come see you another day."

The light in Grace's eyes dimmed.

I tucked her in. "Be good, Grace. Go to sleep," I said.

Robert reached out to snatch my bag.

I pressed the bedside call button, and a nurse hurried over.

Not wanting to make a scene, he lowered his voice. "Emily, don't force me to cut off Grace's medical expenses," he said.

"I've covered all her medical bills since the day she was born," I said.

Robert asked, "Doesn't the money you earn belong to the Martinez family?"

"I inherited the workshop before we married, and the recipe belongs to my family too. You never put a cent into it," I said.

Robert stared at me, his gaze growing cold and dark.

Robert said, "You think cutting off the sauce for a few days gives you leverage over me? I'll get a food factory to copy it. I can still make it."

"Suit yourself," I said.

Robert added, "And that loan of 3.06 million dollars, the loan contract has your signature. If you don't cooperate with the business, the bank will only come after you."