Chapter 4: The Face in the Recording
The video began with a timestamp.
October 14.
11:42 p.m.
The back room of Carter & Rose appeared on the giant screen. The lights were dim, and the reflection of the bakery's neon sign shimmered against the glass door.
I recognized everything.
The stainless-steel counter.
The old refrigerator that made a rattling noise every few minutes.
The wooden cabinet where Grandma Rose's notebook had been kept.
Then a woman entered the frame.
My heart stopped.
"Maya?""
The name escaped my lips before I could stop it.
Maya Bennett.
My assistant.
My friend.
The woman who had held me while I cried after Grandma's funeral. The woman who had helped me scrub flour from the bakery floor after twelve-hour shifts. The woman who had promised she would never let anyone hurt Carter & Rose.
She was wearing a gray hoodie and black trousers.
She looked over her shoulder before walking toward the counter.
Then she unlocked the drawer.
My drawer.
The one where I kept Grandma's notebook.
"Oh, God," I whispered.
Onscreen, Maya hesitated.
She touched the leather cover, then pulled it out.
She stood there for several seconds, staring at the notebook.
Then she took a deep breath and slipped it into a canvas bag.
The room erupted.
"That's enough!"" Gregory Miller shouted.
James Whitaker turned sharply.
"Mr. Miller, sit down.""
"You cannot present unauthorized surveillance footage to an audience!""
The man in the dark suit stepped forward.
"My name is Adrian Bell. I'm the independent compliance investigator appointed by the championship board. This recording was voluntarily submitted by a witness and authenticated against the bakery's original security archive.""
Gregory's face tightened.
"That's convenient.""
Adrian didn't respond.
Instead, he returned his attention to the screen.
The video continued.
Maya walked toward the back entrance.
A figure appeared outside.
Even before the person stepped into the light, I knew who it was.
Sloane.
She wore a long beige coat and carried a black handbag.
She opened the back door.
"Did you get it?"" Sloane asked.
Maya nodded.
"Yes.""
"Show me.""
Maya pulled the notebook from the bag.
Sloane grabbed it.
My fingernails dug into my palms.
"Be careful!"" Maya whispered.
Sloane glanced at her.
"Relax. It's a notebook, not a newborn baby.""
"You promised you'd only take photographs.""
"I promised you a lot of things.""
Maya looked uncomfortable.
"She trusts me.""
Sloane laughed.
"That's hardly my problem.""
I felt something inside my chest break.
The woman who had eaten Christmas dinner at my mother's house was standing beneath the television lights, watching her betrayal play out in front of hundreds of people.
Sloane continued speaking.
"You're getting paid. I'm getting what I need. Everybody wins.""
"What happens when she finds out?""
"She won't.""
"She's going to look for it.""
"Then tell her you don't know anything.""
Maya stepped backward.
"I don't want this to come back on me.""
Sloane's expression became cold.
"Then perhaps you should have thought about that before accepting my money.""
Maya lowered her eyes.
Sloane turned toward the street.
Before leaving, she glanced at the camera.
And smiled.
The screen went black.
Nobody spoke.
I couldn't hear the audience anymore. I couldn't hear the television equipment humming overhead.
All I could hear was Sloane's voice.
She won't.
I looked toward Maya's empty place in the audience.
She wasn't there.
I turned to Adrian.
"Who gave you this recording?""
He paused.
"The person who submitted it requested confidentiality.""
"Her name is Maya Bennett.""
Adrian nodded slowly.
"Yes.""
"Where is she?""
"I don't know whether she is still in the building.""
I looked at the doors.
Then at Sloane.
She was standing perfectly still.
Her father leaned toward her and whispered something. She shook her head, apparently unable to process what had just happened.
James addressed the room.
"We're going to pause the proceedings while the committee reviews this evidence.""
Sloane stepped forward.
"That's ridiculous!""
James looked at her.
"Ms. Miller, your own words are on that recording.""
"That footage has been edited!""
Adrian shook his head.
"The complete file is available for independent examination.""
"Anyone can manufacture a conversation!""
"Not with the original audio and time-stamped camera metadata," Adrian replied.
Gregory slammed his palm onto the table.
"My daughter is being publicly humiliated over a bakery dispute!""
I finally turned toward him.
"Your daughter publicly accused me of stealing my grandmother's work.""
He glared at me.
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into.""
"For the first time today, Mr. Miller, I think I do.""
Sloane moved toward me.
Her face had lost its carefully practiced sweetness.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?""
"No.""
"Don't lie.""
I took a breath.
"I wanted you to admit what you did. That's all.""
She laughed bitterly.
"You think this makes you some kind of hero?""
"No. It makes you a thief.""
A few people in the audience gasped.
Sloane stepped closer.
"You have no idea why I did it.""
"Then explain.""
She looked at the cameras.
Her lips parted.
But her father reached for her arm.
"Don't say another word.""
James stood.
"Mr. Miller, I must ask you to stop interfering with the proceedings.""
Gregory released her.
Sloane looked at me one last time.
"This isn't over.""
Before I could answer, the side doors opened.
A woman entered.
Her hair was messy, her eyes swollen, and her hands trembled around a small brown package.
Maya.
She walked slowly toward the judging table.
I couldn't move.
She stopped several feet away from me.
"Amina.""
I stared at her.
"Don't.""
Her eyes filled.
"Please.""
"You stood in my bakery and took my grandmother's notebook.""
"I know.""
"You watched me search for it.""
"I know.""
"You let me think someone had broken into my shop.""
Maya began crying.
"I'm sorry.""
I shook my head.
"Don't say that like it fixes anything.""
She lowered the package onto the table.
"I brought it back.""
I stared at the brown wrapping.
For one moment, I wanted to reach for it.
Then I remembered the video.
The way Maya had stood in my bakery, holding the notebook like a secret she was ashamed to touch.
"Why?"" I asked.
She wiped her cheeks.
"Because I thought I was helping my family.""
"By stealing from mine?""
"Yes.""
Her honesty hurt more than another lie would have.
Sloane suddenly laughed.
"Don't let her fool you. She took the money willingly.""
Maya flinched.
I turned toward Sloane.
"How much did you pay her?""
Sloane smiled without warmth.
"Ask her.""
Maya looked down.
"Fifteen thousand dollars.""
The number landed like a stone.
"Fifteen thousand?""
Maya nodded.
"My father's house was going into foreclosure. I was behind on the payments. Sloane knew.""
I stared at her.
"You could have asked me.""
"I was ashamed.""
"You could have told me.""
"I thought you'd fire me.""
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"So instead you helped someone steal the most important thing I own?""
Maya covered her face.
"I know.""
James approached the package.
"Ms. Bennett, may we examine what's inside?""
She nodded.
He opened the wrapping.
There it was.
Grandma Rose's leather notebook.
The cracked spine.
The faded rose on the cover.
The little stain on the lower corner from the afternoon Grandma had spilled coffee over her favorite recipe.
I reached for it.
My fingers trembled when I touched the leather.
For a second, I was eight years old again, standing beside my grandmother while she taught me how to pipe my first rose.
"Petal by petal, sweetheart," she'd whispered.
"That's how beautiful things are built.""
I pressed the notebook against my chest.
Maya stepped closer.
"There's something you should know.""
I looked at her.
"What?""
"Sloane didn't just ask me to steal the notebook.""
"Then what else?""
"She told me to destroy something.""
My stomach tightened.
"What?""
Maya glanced at the book.
"One specific page.""
I opened the notebook immediately.
The first few pages were intact.
Grandma's handwriting.
Her illustrations.
Her measurements.
I turned to the Rose Cathedral section.
Then I stopped.
A page had been torn out.
Not carefully removed.
Ripped.
The jagged edge remained caught in the binding.
I looked up.
"Which page was it?""
Maya's voice dropped.
"The one with the original formula for the red roses.""
I stared at her.
My cake was covered in those roses.
The same roses Grandma had spent decades perfecting.
"Why would Sloane want that page?""
Maya shook her head.
"I don't know everything. But I heard her talking to her father.""
"About what?""
May you like
Maya looked directly at me.
"Your grandmother's roses weren't just beautiful. They contained something that could prove the Miller family had been stealing from her for years.""
