The scent of vanilla and warm butter filled my bakery as I pulled another batch of croissants from the oven. Six years of early mornings, burnt fingers, and endless recipe testing had turned Sweet Success from a desperate dream into the most popular bakery in town. Now, my husband wanted me to give it all away.
“I’m Samra, and until yesterday, I thought I had the perfect marriage.”
“Honey, it’s a family tradition,” Calvin said, leaning against my steel workbench as I aggressively kneaded dough. “When a Richards gets married, the whole family pitches in to help them start their new life. Your sister got a car for her wedding.”
I replied, flour dusting my arms, “Your cousin got a down payment for a house.”
“I’m being asked to hand over my entire business. Ivan has always wanted to run his own place.”
I slammed the dough down harder than necessary. “Ivan has never worked a day in his life. He doesn’t know the first thing about running a bakery.”
“He’s my brother, Samara. He’s family.”
The bell above the door chimed, and my best friend, Serena, walked in, her heels clicking against the tile floor. One look at my face, and she knew something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” she asked, setting her purse on the counter.
Calvin straightened his tie. “Just discussing Ivan’s wedding gift. I need to head to the office.”
He kissed my cheek, but I turned away. “Think about it, honey. Family first, right?”
The moment he left, I grabbed a mixing bowl and hurled it into the sink with a crash. Serena jumped.
“Okay, spill,” she demanded.
“He wants me to give Ivan my bakery,” I said, gripping the edge of the counter until my knuckles turned white. “As a wedding gift.”
“He what?” Serena’s jaw dropped. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish,” I muttered, grabbing a rag to wipe down the counter, trying to keep my hands busy. “Apparently, it’s a family tradition to help newlyweds start their lives. Never mind that I started this place from nothing. Never mind that I worked two jobs to save up for the equipment. Never mind that I nearly killed myself perfecting these recipes.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him I’d think about it.” I tossed the rag aside and started boxing up a customer’s order. “What else could I say? He’s been talking about nothing but Ivan’s wedding for months.”
“You could say hell no,” Serena suggested, snatching a chocolate chip cookie from the display case. “This is your life’s work, Sam. You can’t just hand it over to someone who thinks baking is just throwing ingredients in a bowl and hoping for the best.”
The bell chimed again, and Mrs. Peterson, one of my regulars, walked in with her granddaughter. I forced a smile and handed them their usual order: one dozen snickerdoodles and two blueberry muffins.
“Your cookies saved my bridge club meeting last week,” Mrs. Peterson said, beaming. “Everyone wanted your recipe.”
“Family secret,” I replied with a wink, watching them leave. The word “family” felt bitter on my tongue.
Serena hopped onto the counter, ignoring my disapproving look. “So, what are you going to do?”
I started preparing the display case for tomorrow’s opening. “I don’t know. Calvin’s right about one thing: family is important. But this place—it’s not just a business. It’s part of who I am.”
“Then don’t give it up.”
“It’s not that simple.” I paused, a thought forming. “Unless… unless I agree to give it to him on my terms.”
Serena leaned forward, recognizing my plotting face. “Unless?”
I smiled, already drafting an email to my lawyer. “I’m going to give Ivan exactly what he wants—and exactly what he deserves.”
Later that night, I told Calvin I’d do it. His face lit up like a child on Christmas morning as he hugged me tight.
“You won’t regret this, honey. Ivan will make you proud.”
I hugged him back, thinking about the conditions I’d already started drafting with my lawyer.
“I’m sure he will, dear. I’m sure he will.”
As I lay in bed that night, listening to Calvin’s steady breathing, I thought about all the early mornings, the failed recipes, the burns and cuts, and tears that went into building my dream. If I wanted my bakery, he’d have to prove he deserved it—and something told me that process would reveal exactly what kind of man my brother-in-law really was.
I smiled in the darkness. Sometimes, the sweetest revenge comes with a side of karma.
“You’re doing what?” Olivia’s voice echoed through her elegant home office. My former mentor set down her coffee cup with enough force to make the desk rattle.
“Some have you lost your mind?” she asked.
I shifted in the leather chair across from her, grateful I’d chosen to confide in her before moving forward. Olivia had been my guide since culinary school, and her business sense was sharper than my best bread knife.
“It’s not as simple as just giving it away,” I explained, pulling out the draft agreement I’d prepared. “I have conditions.”
“Conditions won’t matter if you sign away your life’s work to an incompetent fool,” Olivia remarked.
She adjusted her reading glasses and scanned the document, her expression softening slightly. “Though, this is interesting.”
I managed a small smile. “Remember when you told me never to sign anything without an escape clause?”
The doorbell rang, and Olivia’s housekeeper announced that Ivan and Maggie had arrived for their scheduled appointment. I’d arranged this meeting under the pretense of discussing wedding cake designs, but my real purpose was far different.
“Send them in,” Olivia called out, giving me a knowing look. “Let’s see what your brother-in-law is made of.”
Ivan strutted in like he owned the place, Maggie trailing behind him with an apologetic smile. She was sweet, if a bit naive, and I couldn’t help wondering if she knew what she was getting into.
“Samra,” Ivan said, his enthusiasm feeling forced. “Calvin told me the good news. I can’t wait to take Sweet Success to the next level.”
“That’s actually why I wanted to meet,” I said, gesturing for them to sit. “Since you’ll be taking over, I thought we should discuss your vision for the bakery.”
“Oh, totally.” Ivan loosened his tie. “I’m thinking we modernize everything, get rid of all that homemade stuff and bring in pre-made bases. Way more efficient, you know? Plus, we can cut half the staff and save on labor costs.”
I watched Maggie’s face fall slightly. Olivia’s pen scratched against her notepad.
“Pre-made bases?” I kept my voice neutral. “Our customers come for the authentic, from-scratch recipes. Trust me, nobody can tell the difference.”
Ivan waved dismissively. “And we need to raise prices by at least 50%. This is prime real estate. We should be charging premium rates.”
Maggie interrupted, “I thought you said you loved Sam’s traditional approach.”
“Babe, this is business.” He patted her hand condescendingly. “Sometimes, you have to make tough decisions to maximize profit.”
I pulled out another document. “Speaking of business decisions, I have the transfer agreement here. Just a few conditions before you take over.”
Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “Conditions? Calvin didn’t mention conditions.”
“Nothing major,” I assured him, sliding the paper across the desk. “You’ll need to complete a three-month training period, learning every aspect of the business, pass a basic culinary certification, and maintain our current quality standards and staff for at least the first year.”
“This is ridiculous,” Ivan said, standing up, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “I don’t need training to run a bakery. It’s just following recipes.”
“Then the certification should be no problem,” Olivia interjected smoothly. “Any competent business owner should understand their product. Don’t you agree?”
Ivan’s face reddened. “This isn’t what we agreed to,” Calvin said.
“Calvin isn’t the one giving away her business,” I cut in, steel entering my voice. “These are my terms, Ivan. Take them or leave them.”
Maggie, let’s go.” Ivan grabbed his jacket. “We’ll discuss this with Calvin.”
After they left, Olivia turned to me with raised eyebrows. “Well, that was illuminating. Did you see Maggie’s face when he talked about cutting corners?”
I smiled. “I don’t think she had any idea. More importantly,” Olivia leaned forward, “did you record all that, like I suggested?”
I patted my phone. “Every word.”
“Good girl,” she smiled approvingly. “Now about that certification requirement—I have a friend who runs the testing center. Should we schedule it for next week?”
“Make it Monday,” I said, standing up. “The sooner Ivan shows his true colors, the better.”
As I drove home, my phone buzzed with a text from Maggie. “Can we meet tomorrow alone?”
I smiled, thinking of her reaction to Ivan’s revelations. Sometimes, the best allies come from unexpected places.