passageway

Chapter 4 - The Photograph on the Glass

The black-and-white photograph resting on the glass display case sent a visible shudder through the elderly man’s frail frame. In the picture, a much younger version of the grandfather stood proudly in front of the very same building, though the sign above the door read something entirely different. The baker crossed his arms again, leaning back against the stainless steel counter with an unreadable expression. Lily crept closer, her small fingers reaching out to touch the corner of the photograph, but the stranger in the grey overcoat snatched it away before she could make contact.

“You left this behind in the office the night the fire started,” the stranger said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low pitch. “You thought the flames would consume every piece of evidence, didn’t you? You thought the world would forget the man who walked away with the endowment fund and left twenty families with nothing.”

“I didn’t take the money,” the grandfather said fiercely, his voice trembling with exhausted indignation. “I transferred it to a secure account to keep it out of the hands of the corporate raiders. If I hadn’t done that, none of those families would have received a single dime of their severance.”

“Then why did you run?” the stranger demanded, slamming his palm against the glass counter with a sharp crack that made the two-tier cake wobble on its base. “Why did you change your name, dye your hair, and disappear into the night with my sister’s child?”

“Because your sister was dead, and her husband was a monster!” the grandfather shouted back, losing his composure for the first time. The raw emotion in the old man's voice echoed off the tiled walls, silencing the street outside.

Lily let out a muffled sob, burying her face in her hands. “Stop fighting! It’s Grandpa’s birthday! Please don’t fight!”

The baker stepped forward, his face deadpan. He reached out and picked up the two-tier cake, sliding it off the marble counter and lifting it toward the stranger in the grey overcoat.

“If you two are going to rehash old crimes, take it outside,” the baker said coldly. “As for the deal, he followed her inside. The cake is yours. But before you take it, you need to look at what’s written on the bottom of the cardboard box.”

May you like

The stranger frowned, cautiously lifting the heavy cake box by its sides. He turned it over, and his eyes widened in absolute horror as he read the handwritten message scrawled in black permanent marker on the plain white cardboard base.

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