“Then Mrs. Russo will receive a notice of immediate foreclosure from her bank,” he said.

He turned toward the door, his coat sweeping against the display case.

“One hour, Nora,” he repeated.

He walked out into the falling snow, his guards following close behind him.

The heavy wooden door clicked shut.

The brass bell chimed one last time, leaving us in silence.

I stood frozen, the smell of cinnamon rolls now turning my stomach.

Leo looked up at me, his blue eyes filled with confusion and fear.

“Mommy,” he said. “Why was that man looking at me?”

I couldn’t answer him.

My eyes were fixed on the black phone sitting on the counter.

Suddenly, the screen of the black phone lit up.

A new message appeared on the lock screen, showing a preview of a legal document with Marlene’s name at the top.

The document on the screen was a formal petition for immediate foreclosure on Marlene’s bakery and building.

The font was clean, sharp, and terrifyingly precise.

Marlene stepped out from behind the heavy kitchen curtain, her face pale as she wiped her flour-stained hands on her apron.