The Innkeeper's Secret: His Daughter

, but it clung like a bad smell. I reached for the small, ornate frame on the counter, polishing the glass wit

li

seen me through countless silent battles. She pointed to the half-eaten past

"Just not feeling

er you saying that when you first opened. Always thought i

n Emma's photo. Raspberry danishes

em home on Saturdays, a peace offering after a week of frantic business. Our kitchen would fill with the s

ng so fast, that she whispered her last wish. "A raspbe

fulfill her smallest desire. I still remember his frantic call from the road,

ition, on a winding country road. He had swerved, lost control. They foun

oth. The world had gone silent, leavin

ed across the counter and gently touched my arm.

ceral punch to the gut. The smell of raspberry, on

re even standing here, running this beautiful place." She paused, her gaze thoughtfu

her. Dax. The man who had walked through the ashes

I managed, the word

ice. You carry yourself like royalty, even when you're scrubbing floors. And then there are the rumors... about your husband." She lo

They had followed me, even here

trying to sound dismiss

ee the good in you. We see how hard you work, how much you love Emma." She squeezed

me. My eyes pricked with tears, unexpected and unwanted.

ted the entire funeral, sold off my father's failing company, promising to rebuild it under his own name, to hono

mily. Now, I'll give you one. I'll take care of you. Forever." He even transferred a signifi

s vision. I was the devoted wife, always there, always supportive, always believing. I overlooked his long hours, h

praise my intelligence and unwavering support. He would surprise me with lavish gifts, whisk

ife's cruelty, under a mountain of engineered happiness. I was Mrs. Dax Roth,

y 30th

s usual. But this time, a news alert flashed across my phone. A gossip site. A grainy photo. D

sorry, a last-minute business deal came up, I'm stuck in transit. I'll be home as soon as I can

on her face, holding a small, beautifully wrapped gift. "Happy birthday, Alysa!" she

e betrayal hit me like a physical blow. It wasn't just him. It was her too. My friend. The w

py, perfect world I had built around Dax, imploded. The pain was immediate, sharp, and absolute. I was