Chapter 4 - The Bitter Taste of Revenge
The success of the private dinner put Golden Hearth Bakery on the map for Chicago’s true elite—the old money and the quiet power players who didn't care about social media trends. But success always breeds envy.
Sloane Mercer was not a woman who accepted defeat gracefully. Her father's business had survived Elias’s threat, but her social standing had taken a massive hit. She blamed Maggie entirely.
It started with a health inspection. Three inspectors showed up at Golden Hearth on a Friday morning during the peak rush hour, demanding to see every log, every temperature chart, and every corner of the old laundromat basement. Maggie knew her kitchen was immaculate, but the inspectors were aggressive, clearly looking for a reason to shut her down.
"We found an issue with your basement drainage," the lead inspector said, his voice cold as he wrote on his clipboard. "We’re going to have to suspend your license pending a full review."
"There's nothing wrong with my drainage," Maggie said, stepping forward, her chest rising and falling with anger. "This building was cleared last month."
"Things change," the man said, refusing to meet her eyes.
Noah was trembling with rage in the corner. Maggie felt a cold pit of despair open up in her stomach. If they shut her down for even a week, she wouldn't be able to pay her rent or her suppliers. Everything she had built would crumble.
She went back to her counter, her hands shaking as she pulled out Elias’s black card. She didn't want to rely on a man like him, a man with dangerous shadows in his past, but she had no choice. She dialed the number.
It rang once.
"Maggie," Elias’s voice answered, as if he had been waiting for her call.
"They're shutting me down, Elias," she whispered, her voice cracking for the first time. "A health inspection. It’s Sloane. I know it is."
"Stay exactly where you are," Elias said, his voice turning to ice. "Do not sign anything. I am five minutes away."
True to his word, the black sedan screeched to a halt outside the bakery four minutes later. Elias walked in, followed by a man carrying a leather briefcase—his personal attorney. Elias didn't look at Maggie; his eyes were fixed on the inspectors.
"Gentlemen," Elias said, his voice dangerously calm. "I believe you are operating under a misunderstanding. This property is owned by Han Holdings. Any attempt to disrupt this business without a federal warrant will result in a lawsuit that will strip you of your pensions before the sun sets."
The lead inspector grew pale. He looked at the attorney, who handed him a legal document.
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"We... we were just doing a routine check, Mr. Han," the inspector stammered.
"Your routine is finished," Elias said. "Get out of my sight. And tell the person who paid you that I will be collecting the debt personally."
