Chapter <b>22 </b>
I wake up to my phone buzzing nonstop. For a moment, I think it’s more hate messages or fake reviews, and my stomach clenches. But when I check the screen, it’s notifications from social media–dozens of them.
Someone posted a defense of my bakery,
My hands shake as I read the first post: “I’ve been eating at Sunrise Bakes for months. The owner is meticulous about cleanliness and quality. These suddenints smell like a setup to me. Has anyone actually verified these ims?”
Then another: “My family orders from Sunrise Bakes every week. Never once gotten sick. This feels like someone trying to destroy a small business.”
And another: “The timing is suspicious. All theseints hit at once? From brand new ounts? Something’s not right here.”
Tears blur
my vision as I scroll throughment afterment from people defending my bakery. Regr customers sharing photos of their favorite pastries, talking about how my bread brightens their morning, how Lily always waves at them through the window.
I had no idea people cared this much. For six months, I’ve been so focused on perfecting recipes and managing the business that I never realized I was building something bigger–amunity.
Lily pads into my room in her pajamas, rubbing sleepy eyes. “Mama, why are you crying? Is the bakery still pretend sick?”
“Happy tears, sweetheart.” I pull her onto the bed beside me. “Look–all these people are saying nice things about our bakery.”
She peers at my phone with serious concentration. “They like our bread?”
“They love our bread. And they don’t believe the mean people who said it made them sick.”
“Good. I knew the bread wasn’t really sick.” She snuggles against my shoulder. “Can we open again today?”
“Not yet, baby. We have to wait for the official report. But maybe soon.”
After breakfast, I can’t stop checking social media. The tide haspletely turned. Where yesterday there were nothing but usations and demands for refunds, now there’s an outpouring of support. People are sharing their own positive experiences, calling out the fake ounts, demanding justice for my bakery.
< Chapter 22
But who started this defense? Who organized this counter–campaign?
My phone rings. Dorian.
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“Good morning,” his voice is warm, and I can hear the smile in it. “I take it you’ve seen the posts?”
“Dorian, did you do this?”
“I may have reached out to a few regr customers who frequent the bakery. Asked them to share their honest experiences online.”
My chest tightens with emotion. “You organized all this?”
“I simply made a few phone calls. The response was entirely genuine–people really do love what you’ve built there.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. This is what happens when good people stand up for what’s right.”
Before I can respond, there’s a knock at my door. My heart jumps–is it the health department with more bad news?
Through the peephole, I see a woman in a business suit holding an official envelope. I open the door cautiously, Lily hiding behind my legs.
“Ms. Scarlett? I’m Jennifer Walsh from the health department. I have your inspection results.”
My hands shake as I take the envelope. “Already? You said it could take weeks.”
“Expedited processing,” she says with a small smile. “Your samples came backpletely clean. No contamination, no vitions. Your facility exceeds all safety standards.”
Relief hits me like a physical wave. “So I can reopen?”
“Immediately. The closure notice has been lifted.” She hands me another document. “These are your official results. I’d suggest posting them online to clear your reputation.”
The moment she leaves, I call Dorian.
“Clean,” I breathe into the phone. “Everything came back clean. No vitions at all.”
“I told you,” his voice is full of quiet satisfaction. “When can you reopen?”
“Today. Right now, if I want to.”
<Chapter 22
“Do you want to?”
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I think about facing the customers who might still believe the lies. About starting over after having my reputation dragged through the mud. About the fear that this could happen again.
Then I think about Mrs. Patterson’s granddaughter asking for her favorite cupcakes. About Mr. Rodriguez stopping by every morning for his coffee and cinnamon roll. About the young mother who brings her toddler in just to see Lily wave from behind the counter.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I want to reopen today.”
“I’ll be your first customer.”
Within an hour, I have the official health department report posted across all social media tforms. The results are crystal clear–not only did my bakery pass inspection, it <i>exceeded </i>standards in every category.
The response is immediate. Comments flood in congratting me, expressing outrage at the false usations, demanding ountability for whoever tried to destroy my business.
But then I notice something that makes my blood run cold.
Several of the fake ounts that posted negative reviews have been deleted entirely. Not just the posts–the entire ounts are gone. Like someone realized they’d been caught and tried to cover their tracks.
All except one.
There’s still one review up, and when I click on the profile, my heart stops.
The ount was created six months ago. Right around the time I opened my bakery. And while there’s <i>no </i>profile picture, the writing style in the bio is eerily familiar.
“Small town girl living her best life in the big city. Family means everything to me.”
I know that phrasing. I’ve heard those exact words before.
My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number: “Congrattions on clearing your name. Enjoy it while itsts.”
The number is blocked, untraceable. But I don’t need to trace it to know who sent it.
Virginia.
She’s been watching me for six months. nning this attack from the moment I opened my doors. And the message makes it clear–this was just the beginning.
< Chapter 22
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I screenshot the threatening text and the remaining fake review, my hands shaking. Then I do something I never thought I’d have the courage to do.
I dial the police.
“I need to report cyberbullying and business sabotage,” I tell the officer who answers.
“Someone orchestrated a coordinated attack on my business using fake ounts and false
health ims.”
“Do you have evidence?”
“Screenshots, witness statements, a pattern of harassment.” I take a deep breath. “And I think I know who’s behind it.” <fn63e8> Find the newest release on f?i?n?d?n?o?v?e?l?</fn63e8>
As I give my statement over the phone, Lily looks up from her coloring book with worried
eyes.
“Mama, are the mean people going to hurt our bakery again?”
I kneel down beside her, smoothing her dark hair. “Not if I can help it, sweetheart. Mama’s going to make sure they can’t hurt us anymore.”
Violet Moon
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