The Pastry and the Promise

1
The first person I saw from my old life after leaving Northwood was Rosalind.
It was a heavy snow day. She walked into my little bakeshop, her belly slightly rounded with pregnancy, and ordered a slice of matcha mousse.
The reunion was so sudden it stunned us both into silence.
We stared at each other for a long moment before finally managing a greeting.
She asked me why Id gotten into baking. I told her it was something I loved.
She took the neatly packaged cake box from my hands but didnt leave, her figure hesitating by the door. The snow fell in a quiet, thick blanket outside. I thought she was just watching it, but then her voice came, low and uncertain.
Greig do you still hate me?
I looked up and offered her a perfectly measured, noncommittal smile.
Hate her? Of course, I had.
But it had been five years. Hate is a fire that, if left unattended for long enough, eventually burns down to embers. It fades.
Like an old photograph, the person in it fading along with the memory.
Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, but just then, another customer walked in. Seeing this, Rosalind swallowed her words and stepped quietly to the side.
The man was a regular. He picked out several pastries.
Boss, youve got a real talent! This stuff is as good as any of those fancy downtown bakeries, maybe even better!
Youre too kind, I replied calmly, my hands moving deftly to box up his order.
The customer glanced around my small shop, a puzzled look on his face. With skills like these, why not open a bigger place? Its a shame to be tucked away in a little corner like this.
I just smiled without answering.
He was sensible enough not to press the issue. He paid and left with his treats.
Rosalind remained in the corner the whole time, her gaze fixed on me, looking like she was about to speak several times but never finding the chance. The shop was surprisingly busy, with customers coming and going in a steady stream.
She said nothing, and I acted as if she wasn't there, focusing all my attention on my work.
Finally, the voice of her assistant drifted in from outside, cautious and respectful. Ms. Vance, your husband is on the phone. Hes asking if youve gotten the cake. Hes worried about the slick roads
I know, Rosalind said, her brow furrowing slightly as she glanced outside.
The window of a luxury sedan parked at the curb was rolled down, and I could just make out the silhouette of a man peering anxiously toward the shop.
Before she left, she looked at me one last time. If if you ever need any help, you can come find me.
She left me with those words and then turned, walking quickly out into the snow. I treated it as the empty pleasantry it was and paid it no mind.
Through the glass, I watched as a man rushed to her side, carefully steadying her. He gently pulled her coat tighter against the cold before guiding her into the car.
I pulled my gaze away and went back to arranging a fresh batch of pastries on the cooling rack.
The next day, I was awake before dawn.
It was the anniversary of my fathers death.
I made a special trip to the market and bought a selection of his favorite things. They werent traditional offerings, but my father had never cared for tradition. A memorial, I figured, should be for the one who has passed. It should be what he would have wanted.
At the cemetery, I knelt on the cold stone before his grave and laid out the pastries one by one. Then, just as I always did, I began to speak to the headstone in a low murmur.
I told him business at the shop was good, that the new Black Forest cake was a big hit with the neighbors.
I told him Mrs. Gables little grandson had come in for cream puffs the other day and was the cutest kid Id ever seen.
I told him that even though the winter was cold, the heating in my apartment was excellent, and the nights werent hard to get through.
My voice trailed off. The mountain wind rustled through my hair. I reached out and gently traced the chiseled letters of his name on the stone, almost able to see his kind, loving eyes looking back at me.
Dad, I whispered, a faint smile touching my lips. See? Im listening to you. Im trying my best to live a good life.
Im doing well now. I really am
Today, I am just Greig Cole, the owner of a small bakeshop on a quiet street in the south end of the city. My life is simple, grounded.
I am no longer the husband Rosalind Vance, the formidable CEO of Vance Corp, had discarded with a single divorce decree.
I am no longer the paranoid, jealous man who drowned his sorrows in alcohol for her sake.
And I am certainly no longer the criminal convicted of arson and assault, the one and only stain on the otherwise perfect narrative of her legendary rise in the business world.
Rosalind and I, you could say we came up together, a young couple forged in hardship.
When we first met, she was only fifteen, an insignificant, illegitimate daughter of the Vance family. Her entire existence was to serve as a shield for her celebrated older sister, to absorb every hidden threat and open attack. As a result, she was always covered in a tapestry of new bruises over old scars, never whole for a single day.
My father, seeing her plight, took pity on her and often helped her out in secret.
I will never forget your kindness, sir. I, Rosalind Vance, will repay this debt one day, shed promised him.
And she was a woman who knew how to repay a debt. She was true to her word.
In three years, she led a team that tore through the corporate world, acquiring competitors and tripling Vance Corps market value. The board officially named her CEO, cementing her power. In an instant, she was one of the most powerful figures in the city, an unstoppable force. The same business titans who had once looked down on her now scrambled to curry her favor, but she kept them all at a polite distance.
Only with my father was she different. Her respect for him was genuine and deep. Even after he retired and left Northwood, that respect never wavered.
If you hadn't been there for me when I had nothing, I would have been finished, shed told him. I never would have achieved any of this.
From now on, I will consider you my own father.
I will honor you, and I will take good care of Greig.
We saw each other often during that time, and our relationship bloomed naturally.
After we were married, a few of the old guard on her company's board, resentful of a CEO with her background, constantly tried to undermine her. For five years, I stood by her side. I lost count of the sleepless nights we spent together, deflecting corporate sabotage and dealing with threats from rivals in the dead of night. From boardroom backstabbing to market warfare, we navigated the most dangerous parts of her journey together, until no one in the company dared to challenge her again.
But the higher she climbed, the more admirers swarmed around her. Though I trusted her, I couldn't help the anxiety that gnawed at me.
She noticed my unease. One night, she took my hand and held it tight.
Dont overthink things, Greig, she said softly.
No one can compare to you.
You were with me through the worst of it. You walked through fire with me. Thats something no one can ever replace.
To set my mind at ease, she spent nearly all her time outside of work with me. She knew I loved the pastries from an old bakery on the south side, and no matter how late she worked, she would always go and buy some for me. If I so much as nicked my finger while cooking, she would frown for hours, carefully disinfecting and bandaging it as if it were a life-threatening wound.
Before long, all of Northwood knew: Rosalind Vance, the iron-fisted CEO, doted on her husband, valuing my life more than her own.
I believed that what we had, forged in shared struggle since we were young, was unbreakable.
I never imagined that all that supposed devotion was just a calculated move in a much larger game.
The day I found out was just like today, a world blanketed in snow.
Watching the blizzard intensify outside my window, I remembered shed left wearing only a thin blazer. Worried, I grabbed her heavy coat and went out to find her.
And then I saw it. A scene that will be burned into my memory for the rest of my life.
Rosalind, in a hotel suite with another man, their clothes in disarray.
In that instant, I was frozen solid, unable to move, unable to speak. Helplessness, confusion, betrayal the emotions washed over me like ice water.
Rosalind, however, was unnaturally calm.
Id planned to tell you in a few days, she said coolly. But since youre here, this works too.
Im going to marry William.
She said it so matter-of-factly, as if she were deciding what to have for breakfast.
I should have just agreed. In our world, affairs were common. Even my own father had a few romantic dalliances in his youth. For someone of Rosalinds stature, it was only a matter of time.
I forced down the rage, trying to stay rational. You can have a lover, I said, my voice tight. But we are not getting a divorce.
I thought, after nearly a decade of weathering storms together, she would at least consider my feelings.
She refused.
The divorce is non-negotiable. I have to give William a proper title. Her tone was absolute.
At that moment, my rage finally boiled over.
I lunged at her like a madman, beating my fists against her, my voice raw as I screamed. I asked her where this left my pride, asked if our ten years together meant less than some man whod appeared out of nowhere.
Rosalind just stood there, letting me vent my fury.
It wasn't until I spat out insults, calling them a cheating whore and a bastard, that her expression finally changed.
Thats enough. William isnt just some man. He is the only man I have ever wanted to marry.
The only one youve wanted to marry? Then what was I?
Her gaze fell on my pale, stricken face, her voice still eerily calm. Greig, you were the most strategic choice.
Back then, my world was full of dangers. I couldn't bear to let William face that, so I needed a husband to act as a frontman. The love I showed you all these years it was just part of the performance, a way to make the decoy more convincing.
Her words were a knife, gutting the foundation of my entire life.
All our shared struggles, just an elaborate deception.
All her tender affection, just an act for an unseen audience.
The beautiful marriage I thought we had was, from the very beginning, nothing but a shield for another man.
While I was still reeling from the truth, Rosalind was already shielding William, guiding him out of the room.
She was a woman of her word. When she said she would marry William, she began preparations immediately, and on a grand scale. She paraded him at every important event in Northwood, introducing him to everyone. She promoted him with a fervor that was even more extravagant and shameless than the way she had once doted on me.
They were the picture of devotion in publicthe star-crossed lovers reunited, the power couple finally getting their storybook ending.
And me?
Were all my years of dedication, all my love, to be so easily erased? Was I supposed to hide in the shadows and watch them live out their fairytale?
I wouldn't have it.
If I was going to suffer, they were going to suffer with me.
So, on the night of the grand business gala where Rosalind was set to officially introduce William, I showed up.
In front of a room packed with the citys elite, I tore down the facade, exposing their sordid affair for all to see.
Amid the wreckage of the banquet, Rosalind pulled me aside, her eyes filled with exhaustion and impatience. Do you have to make a scene like this? Drag everyone through the mud?
Yes, I said, looking her straight in the eye, refusing to back down. If I cant be happy, neither can you.
But that wasnt enough.
I called in every favor my father had left in the business world. We filed a joint complaint, exposing every shady deal and unethical practice Rosalind had used on her way to the top. I was going to drag her down from her throne and turn her back into that powerless, illegitimate girl she once was.
Reality, however, delivered a swift and brutal blow.
She was a corporate titan. The complaints vanished as if dropped into the ocean. Instead, we, the accusers, were branded as conspirators trying to defame a pillar of the business community. The others got scared and threw all the blame onto me.
I was arrested.
The day I was taken into custody, Rosalind came to see me.
The holding cell was dim. She stood on the other side of the bars, impeccably dressed, her voice calm but cold as ice. You cant win, Greig. Im not the same person I was back then.
She paused, a flicker of something like pity in her eyes. If you apologize and promise to leave William alone, you can remain my husband. Everything can go back to how it was. For the sake of our past, I wont treat you poorly.
I just laughed in her face.
I was young then, my pride more valuable than my life. I pointed at her and cursed her, telling her Id rather die than bow to her.
Maybe my words cut her, or maybe she just wanted to teach me a lesson. The days I spent in that cell were worse than anything I could have imagined. The damp, foul-smelling air, the cold iron of the cuffs, the stale, hard food it all worked to grind down my will.
Just as I was about to break, she suddenly had me bailed out.
It seemed like nothing had changed, but the way people looked at me was different.
Only later did I find out why.
When my father heard what had happened, he had rushed back to Northwood overnight. He had knelt for hours outside the Vance Corp headquarters, begging to see her, begging for mercy on my behalf. When he was repeatedly denied, he smashed his head against the stone steps of her headquartersa final, desperate act, buying public attention with his life, and in doing so, buying my freedom.
The news shattered me. It hollowed me out completely.
I stopped fighting. I stopped caring about Rosalind and William. I just curled up in my room, a soulless puppet consumed by the overwhelming grief and guilt of knowing my reckless pride had killed my father.
Meanwhile, the Vance household was alive with celebration, decorated lavishly for Rosalinds upcoming wedding to William. Only my wing of the house was as silent and dead as a tomb.
I drifted in a haze of sleep for days. When I finally woke, there were people in my room. They said I was sick and needed to rest. I didnt react.
Perhaps out of guilt, Rosalind herself looked after me for a few days. But that small flicker of warmth quickly died out, and she returned to Williams side.
On their wedding day, the house was filled with music and laughter. I had no interest in watching.
But William came to my room. Maybe he wanted to taunt me, to twist the knife. He told me the real truth about my fathers death.
Your old man didnt have to die, you know, he said with a smirk. But I thought you needed to be taught a lesson, so I had Rosalind make sure your father couldnt get a meeting with any of the board members. He had no other choice, you see. He had to use his own life just to get their attention.
He got the reaction he wanted.
His words were the final straw that snapped what little sanity I had left. In a daze, I lit the curtains on fire.
The flames exploded, devouring everything in sight.
William screamed and tried to run, but I grabbed him, holding on with all my strength. A single, crazed thought took over: Well all die together.
The moment Rosalind burst into the inferno, the thick smoke blurred my vision. I couldnt see her expression, only that she grabbed the screaming William without a moments hesitation and turned to flee.
Just then, a burning ceiling beam crashed down, landing squarely on my leg.
A wave of excruciating pain washed over me. As the world spun and my consciousness faded, the last ember of my will to live finally went out.
But I didn't die.
The fire was contained. I was pulled from the wreckage. Everyone said I had lost my mind.
But I knew better. I wasnt insane.
I just proved it by stabbing Rosalind with a dinner knife the next time she came to see me. My father had paid with his life, after all. A little pain was the least she deserved.
They said it was aggravated assault. My charges were upgraded.
I was sent back to the detention center. This time, I was facing a formal trial and sentencing.
For intentional injury, I was sentenced to three years in prison.
Shortly after, the divorce papers arrived. Rosalind finally got what she wanted. She was free of me, free to be with her precious William.
In prison, my mind often drifted. I spent my days in a numb fog.
Then, an old colleague of my fathers visited, bringing a letter he had left for me.
The letter contained only a few words:
Greig, no matter what, you have to live.
Seeing my fathers familiar handwriting, it was as if a tiny spark ignited in my dead heart. For the sake of his last wish, I started eating again. I started sleeping. I started living.
Thanks to a policy of sentence reduction for good behavior, I was released early.
With the small amount of money I had, I moved to my fathers hometown and opened a small bakeshop.
Life was humble, but I remembered my fathers words and I forced myself to keep going.
To live long enough to find a way to avenge him. To live to see the day that Rosalind and William, the people who killed him, were sent to hell.
My thoughts pulled back from the heavy memories. The mountain wind felt cool against my skin.
I gave the headstone one last smile and said softly, Im going now, Dad. Ill be back to see you soon.
Picking up my empty basket, I turned and started limping my way back down the mountain path.
But after only a few steps, a strange feeling washed over me, a premonition that made me turn back.
There, standing under an old tree at the entrance to the cemetery, was Rosalind. She had been watching me. I had no idea for how long.
Greig!
Seeing that Id spotted her, she started walking quickly toward me.

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