SOMETHING SWEET, SOMETHING GONE (Lisa's Story) - Chapter 4 : Lies in the Ledger

By the time December rolled around, the bakery was buzzing with Christmas orders—plum cakes, sugar cookies shaped like snowflakes, red velvet bento boxes with candy cane toppers.

To the outside world, we looked like a success story. Smiling photos, behind-the-scenes clips, and seasonal cake promos.

But behind the kitchen door, our world was rotting from the inside.

Daniel had stopped showing up most mornings. He claimed he was “handling suppliers” and “courting new clients” from the upmarket side of town. But I wasn’t stupid.

He was courting alright—but not clients.

My face still bore the faint shadow of that slap, but I hid it behind makeup and smiles for the customers. I kept telling myself to hold on until January, until we closed for a short break. Maybe then I’d leave. Maybe I’d find the strength.

I never expected the betrayal to come in numbers.

—

It started with a bounced payment.

A client had paid for a wedding cake via bank transfer, but the funds weren’t reflecting. I checked our statements and saw something strange. A withdrawal I hadn’t made. Then another. Then multiple small amounts under a vague entry labeled "Operations – External."

I blinked. My stomach turned.

I logged into our joint accounting software. Daniel and I had always shared access—equal partners, or so I thought.

What I saw made my heart stop.

He had been siphoning money for months.

Not huge amounts at once—just enough to go unnoticed. A few thousand here. Tens of thousands there. Payments to a name I recognized but hadn’t thought twice about: Emily Kigen.

The supplier he’d introduced a few months back. The one with the too-white smile and the caramel voice.

The one who always lingered a second too long when shaking his hand.

—

I confronted him that night.

Waited for him in the bakery after we closed.

The lights were off. The air was thick with vanilla and rage.

When he walked in, humming like he hadn’t just gutted our dreams, I stood up from behind the counter.

“We need to talk,” I said.

He froze. “It’s late, Lisa.”

I stepped closer. “You’ve been stealing from me. From us. I saw the transfers. To Emily. From our bakery account.”

He didn’t even flinch.

“And?” he said, tossing his keys on the counter. “You think I don’t deserve a cut for all the stress I go through? I built this with you. Half of it is mine.”

“You didn’t build anything, Daniel. You just showed up and cashed in.”

He laughed bitterly. “I did what I had to do. You were falling apart after the miscarriage. Someone had to keep things moving.”

I stared at him, disgust flooding my chest. “You cheated, Daniel. You stole. You hit me. And now you’re standing here justifying it?”

“She made me feel alive,” he blurted.

Ah. So there it was. The truth, finally.

“She listened. She didn’t cry every night or shut me out. She let me breathe.”

“I was grieving, Daniel,” I whispered. “Our child. Our baby.”

He didn’t reply. Just looked at me with that same distant expression he’d worn the day I told him I was pregnant.

—

That night, I packed a bag. Not just of clothes, but of memories. I took my favorite recipe book, my grandmother’s measuring spoons, and a photo of myself smiling—back when I used to smile for real.

I left the apartment and moved into my friend Njeri’s spare room. She didn’t ask questions. Just opened the door and held me while I cried.

The next day, I opened a new bank account. Changed all the bakery passwords. Called the suppliers. Sent one final message to Daniel:

> “You can keep your lies, your betrayal, and your shadows. I’ll take the ovens, the recipes, and what’s left of my dignity.

Lisa.”

I didn’t know what the future held. But I knew one thing.

The bakery was mine now.

And I would rebuild it from scratch if I had to—just like I would rebuild myself.