The Abandoned Wife's Second Chance (Scarlett and Jasper) novel Chapter 24

(Scarlett’s POV)

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The afternoon sun filters through the café windows as I watch Lily color at the corner table. She insisted on bringing her entire crayon collection, and now there’s a rainbow explosion across the white tablecloth. Dorian doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he looks charmed by her artistic chaos.

“Purple elephants are definitely the best kind,” he tells her seriously, examining her latest

masterpiece.

Lily beams. “Mama says I can use any colors I want because art doesn’t have rules.”

“Your mama is very wise.”

Something warm spreads through my chest at the easy way he talks to her. No talking down, no forced enthusiasm. Just genuine interest in whatever four–year–old wisdom she wants to

share.

“More coffee?” The waitress appears beside our table.

“Please.” I need the caffeine. Between reopening the bakery and staying up late worrying about Virginia’s threats, I’ve barely slept.

Dorian waits until the waitress leaves before leaning forward slightly. “You look tired. Is

everything okay?”

I could lie. Smile and say I’m fine, like I always do. But something about his steady gaze

makes me want to be honest.

“Just some leftover stress from the whole health department thing.” I fidget with my coffee cup. “It’s hard to trust that it’s really over.”

“Has there been more harassment?”

My phone buzzes in my purse, and my stomach clenches, I’ve been getting messages from blocked numbers all week. Nothing directly threatening, just enough to keep me on edge.

“A few weird texts. Probably nothing.”

Dorian’s expression darkens. “Scarlett, if someone’s targeting you-”

“I’m handling it.” The words come out sharper than I intended. “Sorry. I just… I’m used to dealing with things on my own.”

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“You don’t have to anymore.”

The simple statement hits me harder than it should. When was the last time someone offered to share my burdens instead of adding to them?

“Anyway,” I say quickly, needing to change the subject. “You mentioned something about your business?”

Dorian glances at Lily, who’s moved on to drawing what appears to be a rainbow unicorn, then back to me. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for weeks.”

“Oh?”

“I own Davidson Chain Supermarkets. Fifteen locations across the state.”

My coffee cup freezes halfway to my lips. “You own Davidson’s?”

“My grandfather started with one store. My father expanded to five. I’ve been working on growing the business since I took over eight years ago.”

I stare at him, pieces clicking into place. The expensive clothes he wears casually. The way he talks about having “connections” like they’re nothing. The confidence that comes from never having to worry about money.

He’s not just successful. He’s wealthy. Really wealthy.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I like the way you look at me when you don’t know.” His smile is soft, almost shy. “Like I’m just Dorian who likes your bread. Not Davidson’s heir.”

Heat floods my cheeks. He’s right. I do look at him differently now. Can’t help calculating the distance between my small bakery and his business empire.

“The reason I’m telling you now,” he continues, “is because I have a proposition.”

“What kind of proposition?”

“I want to put your bread in my stores. All fifteen locations.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “Are you serious?”

“Completely. I’ve done the market research. There’s huge demand for artisanal baked goods. Your quality is exactly what my customers are looking for.”

My mind races. Fifteen stores. That would mean…

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Chapter 24

“How many loaves are we talking about?”

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“To start? Maybe two hundred loaves per store, three times a week. That’s six hundred loaves total.”

“Six hundred.” The number makes me dizzy. “Dorian, I barely manage fifty loaves a day now.”

“You’d need to expand. Hire employees, get industrial ovens, maybe move to a bigger location.” He leans back in his chair. “I’m not talking about a hobby bakery anymore, Scarlett. I’m talking about a real business. One that could support you and Lily for life.”

The dream he’s painting is beautiful. Financial security. A real future. The ability to provide for Lily without constantly worrying about making rent.

But it would also mean changing everything. The personal touch that makes each loaf special. The relationships with individual customers. The small, intimate space where Lily can do homework while I work.

“I don’t know if I want to be that big,” I admit.

Dorian nods like he expected this answer. “I understand. Mass production isn’t for everyone.”

“It’s not about the work. I just…” I search for the right words. “When I started the bakery, it was about creating something meaningful. Each loaf tells a story. If I’m making six hundred

at a time…”

“They become just products instead of art,” he finishes.

“Exactly.”

“What if we found a middle ground? Maybe start with just two or three stores. See how it

feels.”

The offer is generous. More than generous. And I know I should be grateful. Should jump at the chance to secure my future.

But something holds me back.

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Lily looks up from her drawing. “Mama, I’m hungry.”

“We should order food.” I reach for the menu, grateful for the distraction.

“Actually,” Dorian checks his watch, “there’s a food truck festival in the park. Lily might enjoy

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< Chapter 24

that more than café food.”

“Food trucks!” Lily bounces in her seat. “Can we, Mama? Please?”

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I look between them–Dorian’s hopeful expression, Lily’s excitement–and feel something in my chest loosen. When was the last time I did something just for fun?

“Okay. Food truck festival it is.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re walking through the park, Lily skipping between us like she’s claimed us both as her personal entertainment committee. The festival is bigger than I expected–dozens of colorful trucks selling everything from Korean tacos to gourmet grilled

cheese.

“Everything looks so good,” Lily declares, spinning in a circle to take it all in.

“What sounds good to you?” Dorian asks her.

“Ice cream!”

“Food first, then ice cream,” I say automatically.

“How about we split the difference?” Dorian points to a truck decorated with cartoon cows.

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