Chapter 8: Cabinet Seventeen
The original Rosewood property stood on a quiet street in downtown Atlanta.
I'd passed the building countless times without knowing what it was.
Its faded brick exterior was partially covered by ivy. The old gold lettering above the entrance was barely visible beneath years of weather.
*ROSEWOOD SWEETS.*
I stood on the sidewalk, staring at the sign.
"Grandma owned this place?""
Eleanor nodded.
"She built it from a single storefront.""
She unlocked the side entrance.
"She started with wedding cakes, birthday desserts, and specialty pastries. Eventually, restaurants began ordering from her wholesale kitchen.""
Inside, the building smelled faintly of wood, vanilla, and something sweet that seemed trapped in its walls.
The ground floor had been converted into an archive for the pastry foundation.
Old photographs lined the hallway.
I stopped in front of one.
Grandma stood behind a counter, laughing as a group of children decorated cupcakes.
I recognized the little blue apron she wore.
I'd been standing beside her in that picture.
I was nine years old.
"She kept this?""
Eleanor smiled.
"She insisted on preserving photographs of every child who attended her weekend baking classes.""
I touched the glass.
"She never told me this place still existed.""
"She didn't want you worrying about business while you were growing up.""
Eleanor led me down a narrow corridor.
At the end was a heavy wooden door.
A brass number was attached to it.
17.
She handed me the key.
"Your grandmother insisted that only you should open it.""
My hands trembled as I inserted the key.
It turned with a metallic click.
The cabinet door swung open.
Inside were three carefully organized boxes, a leather-bound notebook, and a large envelope marked with my name.
I lifted the first box.
It contained old company records.
The second held handwritten recipes.
The third contained financial statements dating back more than twenty years.
Eleanor pointed toward the leather notebook.
"That's your grandmother's original business ledger.""
I opened it carefully.
Every sale, partnership, and investment had been recorded in Grandma's handwriting.
I flipped through the pages.
Then I reached the final section.
There were several entries written in red ink.
One was dated four years earlier.
Gloria has changed the account password again.
Another read:
Daniel says the transfer is temporary. I do not trust him.
I stopped breathing.
The next entry was even more disturbing.
If anything happens to me, Aaliyah must receive the original ownership certificate. Gloria must not be allowed to sign on her behalf.
I looked at Eleanor.
"Grandma knew?""
Eleanor nodded slowly.
"She had concerns before her death.""
I continued reading.
Another sentence had been underlined twice.
The company is still mine. The paperwork says otherwise, but the original agreement has never been properly executed.
I turned the page.
A photocopy of a corporate ownership certificate had been attached.
The document identified Rosewood Sweets as being owned by the Rosewood Legacy Trust.
Beneath it was a statement naming me as the sole beneficiary of the controlling shares upon reaching twenty-one.
I read the percentage.
Seventy percent.
My knees weakened.
"Seventy percent?""
Eleanor placed a steadying hand on my shoulder.
"Your grandmother arranged the trust long before she died.""
"Then why does Mom control the business?""
"Because someone submitted a fraudulent transfer document after Rose passed away.""
I looked at the signature.
It resembled Grandma's.
Almost perfectly.
But something felt wrong.
I remembered her handwriting on the chocolate flower instructions. She always formed the letter R with a distinctive loop.
The signature on the transfer certificate had no loop.
"That's not how she signed her name.""
Eleanor leaned closer.
"You're certain?""
I nodded.
"Grandma made me practice her signature once because she wanted me to recognize it on her recipe books. This isn't hers.""
We continued searching.
Inside the envelope was a series of original invoices from the commercial bakery that had been paying royalties.
Every invoice listed the beneficiary as the Rosewood Legacy Trust.
Every payment had been redirected through Gloria's personal account.
There was also a handwritten calculation.
Four years of payments.
More than $180,000 collected.
Not a single transfer made to me.
I sat down on the old wooden chair.
"She stole everything.""
Eleanor didn't interrupt.
I stared at the documents.
When I was nineteen, I'd worked double shifts to pay for culinary classes.
At twenty, I'd skipped meals to afford specialty ingredients.
At twenty-one, I'd entered small local baking contests hoping to win enough money to buy better equipment.
All that time, my mother had been receiving money Grandma intended for me.
I wiped my cheeks.
"Why didn't Grandma tell me?""
Eleanor pulled out a second letter.
"Perhaps she wanted you to discover the truth when you were old enough to protect it.""
I opened the letter.
This one was shorter.
My darling girl,
I know you may be angry when you discover what happened. Please remember that the people who take from you are responsible for their choices.
Do not spend your life trying to make them love you properly.
Build something beautiful. Build something nobody can take away without revealing who they really are.
And never forget: a signature is only ink. Truth leaves fingerprints.
I pressed the paper to my lips.
Then I noticed a photograph tucked behind it.
Grandma was sitting at her desk.
Beside her was Gloria.
They were both looking at a document.
Gloria's right hand rested on the table, holding a pen.
On the back, Grandma had written:
The day she asked me to sign away my company.
I turned the photograph toward Eleanor.
Her expression changed immediately.
"Where did you find that?""
"It was behind the letter.""
Eleanor studied the image.
"Your grandmother gave me a copy, but I never saw this original.""
I looked at Gloria in the photograph.
She was smiling.
Grandma wasn't.
Underneath the picture was a small note.
Daniel witnessed it. He knows what happened.
I searched the cabinet again.
At the very bottom was a sealed document with two signatures.
One belonged to Gloria.
The other belonged to Daniel Mercer.
I recognized the same signature from the transfer application.
But there was something else.
The document was dated three days before Grandma died.
I looked at Eleanor.
"Why would Daniel witness this?""
She took the paper and examined the legal heading.
Then her expression hardened.
"Because this isn't a business sale.""
"What is it?""
"A declaration of incapacity.""
I stared at her.
"Grandma wasn't mentally capable of running the company?""
"That is what this document claims.""
"But she was fine! She baked with me. She remembered everything.""
Eleanor nodded.
"I know.""
I felt sick.
The document claimed Grandma had voluntarily surrendered control of Rosewood because she was no longer capable of making business decisions.
But her handwritten notes, photographs, and records showed she was still managing the company.
And the final signature belonged to the man who had disappeared.
Daniel Mercer.
I suddenly noticed a small envelope attached to the back.
It had been marked:
*FOR ELEANOR ONLY. OPEN WHEN AALIYAH FINDS THE ORIGINAL.*
Eleanor carefully opened it.
A single photograph slid onto the table.
It showed Grandma standing outside a hospital.
Beside her was a man whose face I couldn't see clearly.
Eleanor turned it over.
May you like
The handwriting on the back made her sit down.
*Daniel was not working alone.*
