Chapter 11 - THE FIRST ROYAL DUTY
Down in the expansive commercial-grade kitchen where the nightmare of Victoria’s violent assault had taken place just a few months prior, the atmosphere was now entirely transformed.
Sunlight poured through the massive French windows, illuminating the gleaming stainless-steel appliances and the polished marble countertops that no longer held any dark or terrifying memories.
Nathan stood at the wide island griddle, skillfully flipping golden-brown pancakes while Grace brewed a fresh pot of artisan coffee.
Lily sat at the breakfast bar swinging her legs back and forth, happily munching on a bowl of sliced strawberries and whipped cream.
As Nathan slid a fresh stack of pancakes onto a porcelain plate and placed it in front of Lily, the private kitchen intercom chimed softly.
Nathan pressed the speaker button.
“Mr. Cole,” the voice of Marcus Vance, his chief legal counsel, came through the tiny speaker with crisp professionalism.
“I apologize for interrupting your morning, but we have a development regarding the final probate and restructuring of the Sterling corporate assets that requires your signature before you head down to the downtown office today.”
Nathan glanced at Grace, offering an apologetic smile before pressing the talk button.
“Come on up to the private dining room, Marcus,” Nathan instructed smoothly.
“Join us for coffee and pancakes. The paperwork can wait ten minutes for breakfast.”
“Understood, sir. Be right up,” Marcus replied, clicking off.
True to his word, less than five minutes later, Marcus Vance stepped into the private dining room holding a slim leather portfolio under his arm, impeccably dressed in a charcoal-grey tailored suit.
“Good morning, Mr. Cole. Good morning, Mrs. Cole—and good morning to you, princess,” Marcus greeted them politely, offering a warm nod to Lily, who enthusiastically waved her fork in response.
“Help yourself to coffee, Marcus,” Grace offered, gesturing toward the gleaming silver pot on the sideboard.
“Thank you, Grace,” Marcus smiled, pouring himself a cup before taking a seat at the end of the table.
He opened his portfolio and slid a single sheet of heavy parchment paper across the table toward Nathan.
“What’s this?” Nathan asked, scanning the header of the document.
“It’s the final liquidation settlement regarding the remaining physical properties owned by Arthur Sterling,” Marcus explained, taking a sip of his coffee.
“As you know, the federal bankruptcy court auctioned off their Palm Beach estate and their downtown high-rise penthouse last week to satisfy primary creditor claims.”
“However, there was one smaller, independent commercial property—a modest bakery building in downtown Seattle—that was held under an obscure holding company registered in Victoria’s name.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow, looking up from the paper.
“A bakery building?”
“Correct,” Marcus nodded.
“Because Victoria’s assets were entirely frozen under your corporate debt acceleration, the bankruptcy trustee offered us first right of refusal to acquire the property for pennies on the dollar.”
“And since it was tied directly to her personal holdings, I figured you might want absolute control over its final disposition.”
Grace listened quietly from across the table, her hands wrapping gently around her coffee mug as a sudden, distant memory flickered through her mind.
A bakery building in downtown Seattle.
She stared down at the polished wood grain of the table for a moment, her breath catching slightly as a realization washed over her.
Nathan noticed the subtle shift in her expression immediately.
He set his fork down, turning his full attention toward her.
“Grace?” Nathan asked gently, his grey eyes filled with immediate concern.
“What is it? Does this property mean something to you?”
Grace looked up, meeting his gaze, a soft, bittersweet smile touching the corners of her lips.
“Nathan… do you remember what I told you about my mother’s medical bills four years ago?” she asked softly.
“When we met on that terrace in Seattle?”
Nathan’s eyes widened slightly as the pieces clicked together in his mind.
“You said she was sick,” Nathan recalled, his voice dropping into a tender register.
“And that you were working three jobs just to keep up with her mounting care costs.”
“Before she passed away,” Grace continued, her voice steady and clear, “her absolute dream in life—the one thing she talked about every single day—was opening a small, community-friendly neighborhood bakery where people could gather, share stories, and enjoy fresh, honest food without worrying about high-society pretense.”
“That commercial property downtown… is it the exact location on 4th Street where she always dreamed of setting up shop?”
Marcus Vance blinked in surprise, pulling a property map tablet from his portfolio and tapping the screen.
“Checking coordinates… yes, Mrs. Cole,” Marcus confirmed, his eyebrows lifting in astonishment.
“The address is 412 4th Street. Former home of ‘Artisan Sweet Treats,’ which went under during the recession.”
Nathan looked at Grace, a slow, breathtaking smile spreading across his face.
It wasn't just a coincidence.
It was the universe completing a circle that had started four agonizing years ago in the rain.
“Marcus,” Nathan said, his voice ringing with absolute, unshakeable authority.
“Draft an immediate, unconditional corporate grant transferring 100% of the ownership title for that 4th Street property into a newly established philanthropic trust named the ‘Martha Foundation’—in honor of Grace’s mother.”
“And allocate five million dollars in initial seed capital from my personal venture portfolio to fully renovate, equip, and launch the community bakery.”
Marcus stared at Nathan for a second, a broad grin breaking across the lawyer’s face as he pulled out his digital pen.
May you like
“Consider it done, Mr. Cole,” Marcus said, signing a quick authorization note on his tablet.
“The foundation will be fully incorporated by tomorrow afternoon.”
