Chapter 2 - The Credit She Tried to Steal
Victoria recovered quickly.
People like Victoria always did.
She laughed as if Adrian had asked something adorable.
“Oh, don’t make this dramatic. I chose the general aesthetic. Camila executed it.”
Camila’s grip tightened around the tray.
“That isn’t what happened.”
The words came out before fear could stop them.
Every face turned toward her.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed.
Camila swallowed. “You sent me one photo of the ballroom and told me you wanted something elegant. The dahlias, the colors, the flavor, the windows, the design—those were mine.”
Evelyn Langford stepped in smoothly. “Sweetheart, there’s no need to be territorial. Artists are inspired by clients all the time.”
“I have sketches,” Camila said.
Victoria’s smile disappeared.
Adrian folded the program in half. “I’d like to see them.”
“Adrian.” Victoria’s voice went low. “Not here.”
“Why not here?”
“Because this is our engagement party.”
“Exactly.”
The room had gone nearly silent now.
Camila wished she had never accepted the order.
Three weeks earlier, Victoria had walked into Reyes Bakery wearing sunglasses and a silk scarf, even though it was raining.
She had introduced herself as “V. Langford” and insisted on privacy.
Camila had assumed she was simply another rich client who didn’t want to wait in line.
Victoria sampled six desserts, rejected four without swallowing, then stopped at Camila’s burnt-honey orange cake.
Her expression changed.
“This,” she had said. “I want this flavor. But elevated.”
Camila should have heard the warning in that word.
Elevated.
As if flavor needed wealth before it became worthy.
Still, she had taken the job.
She needed the money.
Now Adrian was looking at her like he wanted the truth, not a performance.
Camila set down the tray.
“My sketches are in the delivery folder.”
“Get them,” Victoria snapped.
Adrian glanced at her.
Victoria forced another smile. “I mean, if we’re doing this, let’s do it.”
Camila walked toward the service hallway.
Her legs felt weak.
She had made it halfway through the kitchen when someone caught her arm.
“Not so fast.”
Camila turned.
A man in a tuxedo she recognized from planning emails stood behind her.
Grant Mercer.
Victoria’s cousin and the gala’s event director.
His smile was polite.
His fingers were not.
They tightened around Camila’s wrist.
“You’re embarrassing the family.”
“Let go.”
“You got paid.”
“For the cake. Not for my name.”
Grant leaned closer. “You own a bakery three weeks from foreclosure. Maybe don’t pick a fight with people who could buy your whole block before breakfast.”
Camila went cold.
“How do you know about my lease?”
His smile deepened.
“Everybody knows everything when money’s involved.”
He released her.
“Take the check and go home.”
Camila stared at him.
Then she noticed something behind his shoulder.
Her delivery folder lay open on a stainless-steel prep table.
The sketches were gone.
She rushed toward it.
Empty plastic sleeves.
No flavor notes.
No hand-drawn cake designs.
No dated concept pages.
Nothing.
Grant crossed his arms.
“That’s unfortunate.”
Camila looked up. “You took them.”
“Prove it.”
Her heart pounded.
Then a voice came from the doorway.
“She doesn’t have to.”
Adrian stood there.
Behind him was the hotel’s head of security.
Grant’s face changed.
Adrian looked at Camila. “The hallway cameras record continuously.”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
Victoria appeared a second later.
“What is happening now?”
Adrian didn’t look at her.
“Someone stole Camila’s sketches.”
Victoria’s eyes flicked toward Grant.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But Camila saw it.
So did Adrian.
The head of security touched his earpiece.
“Mr. Vale,” he said. “You need to see something.”
They followed him into the small security office.
The footage appeared on a monitor.
At 7:42 p.m., Grant entered the service hallway.
At 7:43, he opened Camila’s folder.
At 7:44, he removed the sketches and slid them beneath his jacket.
No one spoke.
Then the video continued.
At 7:45, Victoria walked into frame.
Grant handed her the sketches.
Victoria looked directly at the camera.
Then she smiled and said something to Grant.
There was no audio.
But the camera was close enough to read her lips.
Camila did.
So did Adrian.
May you like
Burn them.
