My family froze.

They turned toward the front of the shop, composing themselves instantly, putting their masks back on.

Standing in the doorway was a man in a charcoal suit that cost more than my delivery van. He was tall, with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that scanned the room with the precision of a hawk.

It was Jonathan, the billionaire hotel mogul, Haley’s fiancé.

Haley let out a high-pitched squeal and rushed toward him, her hands fluttering.

“Jonathan, what are you doing here? You’re not supposed to see me before the party.”

She went to throw her arms around his neck, aiming for a picture-perfect embrace for whoever might be watching.

But Jonathan didn’t stop. He didn’t hug her back. He didn’t even look at her.

He sidestepped her outstretched arms with a smooth, fluid motion, walking right past my parents, right past the display case, and straight up to the counter where I stood.

He looked at me.

He didn’t look at the flour on my apron. He didn’t look at the sweat on my forehead. He looked me right in the eyes with a reverence I had never seen from my own father.

“Are you Abigail?” he asked, his voice deep and serious.

I nodded, too stunned to speak.

He exhaled a long sound of genuine relief.

“I have been trying to meet you for 6 months. I’m Jonathan. I own the Atlas Hotel Group. We exclusively contract with your bakery for our VIP suites. Your brioche is the only reason our Paris location has a five-star breakfast rating.”

My mother made a choking sound.

My father looked like he had been struck by lightning.

Haley stood in the middle of the shop, her arm still half raised, staring at the back of her fiancé’s head.

“You… you know her?” Haley asked, her voice trembling.

Jonathan turned slowly, as if he had forgotten she was even in the room.

“Know her, Haley? This woman is a genius. I told you I only agreed to meet your family because I saw the last name and hoped you were related to the owner of the Gilded Crumb.”

The air left the room.

It was a vacuum of shock.

Jonathan turned back to me, his expression shifting from professional admiration to confusion.

“I sent you five emails, Abigail. My team sent contracts. We wanted to partner with you to open a flagship location in our new Tokyo hotel. Why did you never respond? We thought you weren’t interested.”

I frowned, wiping my hands on my towel again.

“I never got any emails,” I said. “I check my inbox every night. I would never ignore an offer like that.”

Jonathan pulled out his phone, tapping the screen a few times before turning it around to show me.

The email chain was there, but the reply address wasn’t mine.

It was a forwarded address, one I recognized immediately.

It was my father’s personal email.

I looked up at Brian.

He was pale, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his upper lip.

Jonathan followed my gaze, his eyes narrowing as he put the pieces together.

“He intercepted them,” I said, my voice cold. “Dad, you have access to the server from when you helped me set up the domain.”

My father stammered, backing up against the heavy industrial mixer.

“I… I was protecting you, Abby. You’re not ready for that kind of pressure. Tokyo? It’s too far. We need you here. Who would run errands for your mother? Who would help Haley? I was just trying to keep the family together.”

Jonathan let out a short, humorless laugh.

“You blocked a multi-million dollar partnership because you wanted her available to run errands.”

Haley stepped forward, trying to salvage the situation, grabbing Jonathan’s arm with a desperate grip.

“Babe, it doesn’t matter. It was a misunderstanding. Look, we’re here now. Abigail can just bake the pastries for tonight and we can talk business later. Okay? Family first.”

Jonathan looked at her hand on his arm like it was a foreign object.

He looked at my parents shrinking in the corner like scolded children.