Chapter 2

The cab pulled up outside the flagship restaurant.

The hostess at the front desk gave me a quiet nod as I walked in.

"Ms. Nora."

I nodded back and walked straight upstairs to the general manager's office.

I went to the safe and, out of reflex, typed in my birthday.

"Incorrect password."

I paused. My fingers trembled slightly as I tried again — our anniversary.

"Incorrect password."

I stared at the keypad. An image of Vivian's personnel file surfaced in my mind.

With a kind of masochistic calm, I pressed her birthday.

Click.

The safe opened.

A quiet laugh escaped me.

For years, no matter how many locations we opened, the core sauce had been made by my hands alone. Each branch sent a driver to collect it from this kitchen every single day.

Ethan and Vivian had seized control of the company's operations and finances. But they had forgotten what actually kept this chain alive.

I removed everything from the safe.

Then I walked to the kitchen, picked up a bucket of grimy dishwater and waste grease from beside the sink, and without hesitation, poured every drop into the stock pots.

A chain without a soul. Enjoy what's left of it.

On my way out, I passed the culture wall — a display of framed photographs running the length of the hallway.

In the center was a photo of Ethan and me.

I walked over, tore it down, and dropped it in the trash.

Before it even settled, a woman's voice drifted in from the doorway — unhurried, almost leisurely.

"Nora. You don't seriously think throwing a tantrum is going to make Ethan feel guilty for everything he put you through, do you?"

I turned.

Vivian stood at the entrance of the dining hall, every hair in place, a studied kind of elegance about her — and in her gaze, open satisfaction she wasn't bothering to hide.

"Though I understand, I suppose. Anyone in your shoes would be upset."

"After all this time with him, all those years — and then you find out you have no legal standing at all. That's genuinely pathetic."

I said nothing.

Something in her seemed to relax — like she'd been waiting for exactly this moment. The careful act she'd maintained began to slip away.

"You know, I used to respect you. Genuinely."

She smiled, slow and deliberate.

"A woman who grinds alongside a man from absolute zero to something real — that takes grit."

"But grit is one thing. Whether you belong at his side is another."

She paused, then dropped her voice.

"The position of Mrs. Caldwell was never yours to begin with."

I studied the satisfaction written all over Vivian's face and felt only a faint, dry amusement.

"So what?"

"You came all the way here to stake your claim?"

Vivian smiled lightly.

"Does it even need staking? The registry is real. The hospital signature is real. The safe combination is real. And Ethan himself said I'd be handling all finances going forward. All real."

Her gaze dropped deliberately to my empty hands.

"Nora. You sacrificed so much for him. But you should understand by now — in business, what counts is capital, management, resources, connections. Not who knows how to stir a pot of sauce."

Each sentence landed soft and even, but every word had an edge.

I looked at her.

"Are you proud of yourself right now?"

Vivian blinked, as though she hadn't expected that.

Then she smiled — a full, unguarded smile, satisfaction flooding every feature.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"The man you spent years on — he's my husband."

"The restaurants you poured yourself into — they're mine to run now."

"You don't even have the right to put your own child under his name. But me? I'm the legally recognized Mrs. Caldwell."

She let that sit, as if exhaling years of something held back.

"Nora. I won."

I looked at her and smiled.

"You think because you have the marriage certificate, the company seal, and the keys to the operation — that means you've won?"

"Vivian. Why don't you go check the kitchen first? Let's talk about what you've actually inherited."