Chapter 1- Present Day
I never planned on coming back.
Yet there I was, driving straight toward the town that had taught me how quickly love could turn into a weapon.
Ever since the lawyer called the week before, Marie’s will had been lodged in my head like a ticking bomb. At first, I was certain he had made a mistake. People did not leave bakeries to girls who vanished without a word.
When I told him that over the phone, he had paused.
“Ms. Carter,” he said calmly, “I don’t make assumptions. I follow instructions.”
That should have been the end of it.
But then he showed up at my workplace three days later, suit pressed, briefcase in hand, patience wearing thin. The moment he laid the documents on my desk, every lingering doubt disappeared.
“The conditions are very clear,” he said, tapping the papers as though they irritated him. “Marie left the bulk of her assets to her children. The bakery, however, is to be named after you. That was her final request.”
I stared at the documents, my name printed neatly where it did not belong.
“Why?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t seen her in eight years.”
He shrugged, already gathering his things. “I’m just the lawyer.”
“I think you should give it to her children,” I said quickly. “It makes more sense. It’s their family business.”
“She anticipated that response,” he replied. “Which is why she made it non-negotiable.”
Of course she did.
Nothing about Marie had ever been simple.
What were you thinking?
The question followed me long after he left. But the answer did not matter. I was not staying. I had built a new life, one that did not include this town, its whispers, or the boy who chose lies over love.
I only needed to sell the bakery, close the chapter properly, and return to the people who mattered now.
The road stretched endlessly ahead of me until a faded sign appeared through the windshield.
WELCOME TO brOOKVALE
My heart betrayed me, beating faster, tighter.
“Be strong,” I whispered to myself, fingers gripping the steering wheel. “It wasn’t your fault.”
The town looked different. Bigger. Louder. New buildings squeezed between old ones, yet the memories rushed back anyway, sharp and unwelcome. Every street corner felt like a trap, every stoplight a reminder.
I needed coffee. Something grounding. Somewhere anonymous.
The coffeehouse was warm and bright, the scent of roasted beans wrapping around me like a lie of comfort.
“Hi there! What can I get you?”
The girl behind the counter smiled easily. Too easily.
“Latte,” I said. “Hot.”
“Coming right up.” She punched in the order, then glanced back at me. “I’m Shanna. Half price today. Owner’s feeling generous.”
“Lucky me,” I murmured.
She passed me the cup a moment later. “Name?”
“Bailey,” I blurted out before my brain caught up.
Damn it.
She tilted her head, studying me. “You’re not from here.”
“I used to be,” I said carefully. “A long time ago.”
Her smile softened, curiosity replacing cheer. “Brookvale has a way of pulling people back.”
I forced a small smile and took my drink, retreating to a table by the window. The warmth seeped into my hands as I stared outside. Across the street, the town stared back at me like it remembered everything I wanted to forget.
Marie’s Bakery sat only two blocks away.
Once, it had been my refuge. The one place where I felt seen.
Marie had not been kind. She had not been gentle. But she had stayed when others walked away.
Guilt pressed heavily against my chest. I had left without looking back, convinced survival mattered more than explanations.
The coffeehouse door chimed.
“Hey,” a voice called. “You look familiar.”
I froze.
A woman in oversized sunglasses stood near the door, studying me like she was piecing together a memory.
“I don’t think so,” I said quickly, standing. “Excuse me.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue, but I was already moving.
Inside my car, my hands shook as I started the engine. I glanced at the rearview mirror.
She was still watching me.
I did not recognize her.
But the town had already recognized me.
And I had only just arrived.