Chapter 2 - Flour, Numbers, and Lies
At two seventeen in the morning, Hannah sat in a plain interview room wearing dry socks borrowed from a federal agent.
They were decorated with tiny avocados.
She stared at them beneath the table.
“This is not how I expected to meet the government.”
Across from her, attorney Denise Park opened a legal pad.
A local legal assistance contact had referred her after Hannah called the only person she trusted to answer after midnight: June Alvarez, Bell Street Bakery’s former head baker.
June had listened to the entire story without interrupting.
Then she had said, “Don’t sign anything. I’m finding you a lawyer.”
Now Denise sat beside Hannah while Agent Bennett placed several invoices on the table.
“Recognize these?”
Hannah leaned forward.
“Northline. Those are wrong.”
Bennett didn’t move.
“Wrong how?”
“The quantities. We never ordered that much butter. Our walk-in wouldn’t hold it.”
She pointed at another page.
“And this delivery was scheduled for a Monday. Northline delivered Thursdays.”
Denise watched her carefully.
“Take your time.”
Hannah looked again.
Her signature appeared at the bottom.
A small, ugly chill moved across her shoulders.
“I didn’t sign that.”
“Are you certain?” Bennett asked.
“Yes. I initial deliveries. I don’t sign my full name unless there’s a discrepancy.”
She pointed to the date.
“And I wasn’t working. My father had an appointment. I can show you the schedule.”
The next invoice carried her name too.
So did the next.
By the sixth page, Hannah’s mouth had gone dry.
“How many are there?”
Bennett didn’t answer immediately.
“Enough that we need to understand your role.”
“My role was counting croissants and begging Scott to replace a mixer.”
Denise rested one hand near Hannah’s elbow.
“Tell her about your notebook.”
Hannah opened the tote.
The payroll notebook had a yellow cover and a coffee stain shaped vaguely like Wisconsin. She kept shift changes, delivery shortages, overtime disputes, and every promise Scott made before forgetting it.
It wasn’t an official company record.
It was the reason the bakery functioned.
She opened it to the first week of September.
“Here. Northline billed for twelve cases. We received four. Scott said he’d correct it.”
She turned another page.
“Same thing here.”
Bennett’s expression sharpened.
“How far back does this go?”
“Four years.”
“Where are the older notebooks?”
“In a plastic tub under my bed.”
Hannah looked up.
“Unless someone has decided to investigate my mattress too.”
Nobody laughed this time.
Denise asked for a break.
In the hallway, Hannah pressed her hands against the cold wall.
“I’m being framed.”
“We know your records contradict theirs,” Denise said. “We’re going to stay precise.”
“My father thinks I still have a job.”
“We can deal with that tomorrow.”
“He has enough to worry about.”
Denise’s expression softened.
“Then let someone help you worry tonight.”
Across the city, Dominic stood in his study while agents cataloged computers.
His attorney, Malcolm Reed, arrived soaked and furious.
“Why did you take a stranger home?”
“She was asleep.”
“You own hotels.”
“She asked to go home. We were arranging that.”
Malcolm lowered his voice.
“Adrian called me.”
“I assumed he would.”
“He says you’re allowing an employee of a laundering operation to create the appearance of cooperation.”
Dominic looked toward the dark windows.
“Did he mention the forged signatures?”
Malcolm stopped.
“What signatures?”
“Find out.”
The lawyer studied him.
“You need to understand something. Refusing Adrian does not make you innocent.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you? Because the books they’re taking contain businesses you controlled.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
For years, he had drawn private lines around his conduct.
No drugs near schools.
No trafficking.
No harm to families.
He had treated those rules as evidence that he was different from the men who raised him.
But the money still arrived.
People still paid because they were afraid.
And somewhere inside those polished boundaries, a bakery manager with eighty-seven dollars had become disposable.
His phone lit up again.
Adrian.
This time, Dominic let it ring.
At four in the morning, Hannah finally received permission to leave with Denise.
Bennett walked her to the exit.
“One more thing. Your bakery’s cameras were reported broken this afternoon.”
Hannah stopped.
“They worked yesterday.”
“I thought you should know.”
Outside, June waited in a dented red hatchback.
May you like
She wrapped Hannah in a blanket without asking.
Only then, with the avocado socks peeking beneath the blanket and the city beginning to pale around them, Hannah finally cried.
