Chapter 6 - The Truth Behind the Dawson Name
Lily’s phone led us south.
Not Roman.
Us.
Because despite telling me to stay at the bakery, Roman discovered quickly that I was extremely bad at following orders.
Vincent drove.
Roman sat in the passenger seat.
I sat in the back beside one of Roman’s security people.
Sophia had regained consciousness and was safe at the hospital.
She remembered Andrew Cole entering the office.
Nothing after that.
The phone signal stopped near an abandoned logistics yard by the river.
Roman looked at Vincent.
“The warehouse is three miles east.”
“So the note was a distraction,” Vincent said.
I stared at the blinking location.
“Or they expected you to go there while someone else moved Lily.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
His phone rang.
Marcus.
He answered.
“I’m at the warehouse,” Roman lied.
“Good.”
“I have the ledger.”
“Leave it inside.”
“Where’s Lily?”
“Safe.”
“I want proof.”
Silence.
Then Lily’s voice.
“Uncle Roman?”
Roman closed his eyes briefly.
“I’m here.”
“I’m okay.”
Marcus returned.
“Five minutes.”
The call ended.
Roman looked toward the logistics yard.
“He thinks I’m somewhere else.”
Vincent nodded.
“Then we have an advantage.”
What followed happened faster than I could process.
Roman’s people contacted police officers outside the network Marcus had compromised.
Evidence from the ledger had already been sent electronically.
The plan wasn’t revenge.
It wasn’t some dramatic family war.
Roman had made that clear.
“We end this legally.”
Vincent almost smiled.
“Daniel would approve.”
The yard had several buildings.
Lily’s phone signal came from the smallest office structure.
Roman turned toward me.
“You stay in the car.”
I started to object.
He gave me one look.
For once, I listened.
Ten minutes felt like an hour.
Then twenty.
Police vehicles approached silently from the road.
I watched through the windshield.
My hands were shaking.
At minute twenty-three, Roman emerged from the building.
Lily ran beside him.
I was out of the car before anyone could stop me.
She slammed into me.
I hugged her.
She was crying.
But safe.
Roman reached us.
I grabbed his jacket.
“You’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“Lily?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Lily answered.
“Andrew left when he realized the police were coming.”
“Marcus?”
Roman looked toward the building.
“Inside.”
Vincent approached.
“Alive?”
Roman nodded.
“Under arrest.”
Something inside me released.
Later, we learned the full story.
Marcus Hale had worked for the Dawson family for more than twenty years.
He began moving money through shell companies slowly.
Small enough that nobody noticed.
Then larger amounts.
He paid public officials.
Manipulated contracts.
Used Andrew Cole to alter records and security logs.
Whenever suspicion moved toward him, Marcus redirected it toward Vincent.
Daniel discovered discrepancies.
Marcus convinced him Vincent was responsible.
Daniel investigated his uncle.
By the time Daniel understood the truth, he was already under enormous stress.
His heart condition, undiagnosed and dangerous, failed during an argument at home.
Marcus hadn’t killed Daniel.
But he had lied to him.
Used him.
Then continued stealing after his death.
Elena discovered the truth years later.
Vincent helped her.
She hid evidence.
Then, on the night she died, Andrew followed her.
The crash had indeed been an accident.
But not the accident everyone thought.
Andrew had been following too closely in the storm, trying to frighten Elena into stopping.
She lost control.
Andrew panicked.
He called Marcus.
They covered up the reason she had been on the road and erased records showing Andrew’s vehicle nearby.
Marcus hadn’t ordered her death.
But he had buried the truth.
That mattered.
For Lily, it mattered most.
Two days later, she sat at my bakery counter.
Same gray sweatshirt.
Different expression.
She looked tired.
But not empty.
Roman sat beside her.
Vincent stood near the window.
Sophia had a bruise on her forehead and the energy of somebody deeply offended by hospital instructions.
“I told them I didn’t need observation.”
“You were unconscious,” Roman said.
“For twelve minutes.”
“That is not reassuring.”
I placed a cinnamon bun in front of her.
“Eat.”
Sophia smiled.
“You see? Clare understands me.”
Roman looked at me.
“I’m starting to think you two are the real threat.”
Lily laughed.
A full laugh.
I stopped moving.
Roman noticed too.
Our eyes met.
For a second, nobody else existed.
Then Sophia cleared her throat theatrically.
“So.”
“No,” I said.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You were about to.”
“Are you still pretending to be Roman’s girlfriend?”
Lily immediately became interested.
Roman looked at me.
I looked at him.
Vincent took a sip of coffee.
“This seems private,” he said.
But he didn’t leave.
Coward.
Roman leaned against the counter.
“I believe our original three-week agreement has expired.”
“We never agreed.”
“You attended dinner.”
“Under protest.”
“You kissed me.”
Sophia gasped.
Lily smiled.
Vincent looked genuinely entertained.
I pointed at Roman.
“That was an emergency.”
“Interesting medical treatment.”
My face warmed.
“Do you want another flour bag?”
Roman’s mouth curved.
“Not particularly.”
Sophia stood.
“Come, Lily.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I want to hear this.”
“You’ll hear everything from me later.”
Roman gave his aunt a look.
“That is exactly what concerns me.”
Eventually, Sophia dragged everyone outside.
Roman and I were alone.
The bakery was quiet.
It was six in the evening.
Rain tapped the windows.
He stood across from me.
No suit jacket.
Sleeves rolled slightly.
Flour dust on one cuff from helping Lily earlier.
Funny.
The first time I met him, flour on his suit had been an act of war.
Now it made him look like he belonged.
Roman approached.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Several.”
“For bringing you into this.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Lily did.”
His expression softened.
“Yes.”
“And I’m glad she did.”
He looked toward the door.
“She wants to keep working here.”
“She is terrible at frosting.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“She can stay.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
I folded my arms.
“You’re getting overconfident again.”
“Probably.”
He took another step.
“What happens now?”
“With Marcus?”
“With us.”
My heart started doing inconvenient things.
“Do we have an us?”
“I hope so.”
That answer was too sincere for me to deflect.
Roman continued.
“I don’t want a fake girlfriend.”
“Good.”
“I don’t want an arrangement.”
“Better.”
“I don’t want to compensate you for your time.”
“Very wise.”
“I want dinner.”
I smiled.
“Dinner?”
“One dinner.”
“No family?”
“No family.”
“No guards sitting at the next table?”
“Across the street.”
“Roman.”
“Fine. Half a block.”
I laughed.
He looked relieved.
“Yes.”
He blinked.
“Yes?”
“One dinner.”
His smile appeared.
Real this time.
Then the bakery door opened.
Lily ran back inside.
“Wait!”
We turned.
She held an envelope.
“I found this in Mom’s things.”
Roman tensed instinctively.
Lily shook her head.
“It’s not bad.”
She walked toward me.
“It’s for Clare.”
My heart skipped.
“From your mother?”
She nodded.
I opened it carefully.
The letter was short.
Clare,
You don’t know me, but I learned you bought Daniel’s old property.
I’m sorry that our family’s unfinished business may someday touch your life.
If it does, I hope you never let the Dawson name scare you into silence.
Daniel always said the world needed more people who weren’t impressed by powerful men.
Something tells me you might be one of them.
If Roman ever walks into your bakery, please charge him full price.
Elena Dawson.
I read the final line twice.
Then started laughing.
Roman looked offended.
“She knew you.”
“Apparently.”
Lily smiled.
“She would have liked you.”
My throat tightened.
“I think I would have liked her too.”
Roman read the note.
Then folded it carefully.
For the first time since the nightmare started, the past didn’t feel like something chasing us.
It felt like something settling.
Quietly.
But that night, when I locked Honey & Rye, I noticed Roman standing outside under the awning.
Waiting.
Not because he thought I needed protection.
Not because Lily was there.
Not because his family required anything.
He was simply waiting for me.
I stepped outside.
“You know,” I said, “most men ask a woman what time she gets off work.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Lily told me.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I’m learning.”
We walked toward his car.
Halfway there, Roman stopped.
“What?”
He looked at the bakery sign.
“Honey & Rye.”
“Yes?”
“Would you ever sell it?”
I stared at him.
“If you are about to try buying my bakery again—”
“No.”
“Good.”
He smiled.
“I was wondering whether you’d consider expanding.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Why?”
“Because Lily has an idea.”
That made me suspicious.
“What idea?”
Roman opened the car door.
“She wants to open another location someday.”
“That’s ambitious.”
“She wants to call it Elena’s.”
My chest tightened.
“That’s beautiful.”
Roman nodded.
Then his expression changed.
“But she wants you to teach her.”
I smiled.
“I already am.”
What I didn’t know yet was that Lily’s idea would become much larger than a second bakery.
And before the next year ended, Honey & Rye would become the one place in Chicago the Dawson family stopped using for business.
Because it became something none of them expected.
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