Kaitlynn and her two children

Helen Mercer didn't waste time. She led Kaitlynn into a sitting room that was bigger than the entire Richmond farmhouse. The furniture was antique, the rugs Persian. Kaitlynn felt like she had stepped into another world.

"Sit," Helen said, pointing to a chair.

Kaitlynn sat, keeping her back straight and her eyes level.

"How many flavors do you have?" Helen asked, getting straight to the point.

"Currently, two," Kaitlynn said. "Blueberry basil, and rosemary apple. But I'm developing more."

"How many can you produce in a week?"

Kaitlynn did the math in her head. She had limited oven space, limited ingredients. But she had time, and she had skill. "Twenty pies a week. Consistent quality, guaranteed."

Helen tapped her finger on the arm of her chair. "Twenty pies. I'll take them all."

Kaitlynn's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her face neutral. "And the price?"

"Fifteen a pie."

Kaitlynn's smile froze for a fraction of a second. Fifteen dollars? For a pie of this quality, using fresh herbs and premium fruit, it was practically an insult. She was counting on Kaitlynn's desperation.

"Mrs. Mercer," Kaitlynn said, her voice smooth and pleasant, betraying none of her inner calculation. "For a standard order, that would be acceptable. But you're asking for my entire weekly production on an exclusive basis. That means no one else in this county gets to taste these. For that level of exclusivity, my price is twenty."

Helen's eyes narrowed. She wasn't used to being challenged. "Seventeen," she countered.

"Eighteen," Kaitlynn replied, holding her gaze. "And I'll develop a new, exclusive flavor just for you each month. First delivery on Friday."

Helen was silent for a long moment, then a slow, thin smile touched her lips. She respected the hustle. "Done. Three hundred and sixty dollars a week. I'll pay for the first week upfront. Cash." She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a stack of bills, counting out the money. She placed it on the table between them.

Kaitlynn stared at the money. It was more cash than she had seen in months. It was enough to fix the roof. Enough to buy food. Enough to breathe.

"I'll have them ready by Friday," Kaitlynn said, her voice steady.

"Good." Helen stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. "Don't be late."

Kaitlynn grabbed the money, shoving it into her purse. She walked out of the mansion in a daze. She had done it. She had actually done it.

She went on a shopping spree. She bought groceries-real food, not just beans and rice. She bought new shoes for Paige, a warm jacket for Cason, and even a set of clothes for the boy in the bed. She bought fabric to make new curtains, and paint to cover the stained walls.

She loaded everything into a taxi and caught the last bus back to Sweetwater Creek. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Kaitlynn leaned her head against the window, a smile on her face.

For the first time since she had woken up in this nightmare, she felt like she was winning.

The bus lurched to a stop at the edge of town. Kaitlynn gathered her bags and stepped off. The air was cool, the streets quiet.

But as she walked up the dirt road toward her house, she saw something that made her stomach drop.

There were people on her porch. Two women.

One was Dawn. The other was a tall, heavyset woman with grey hair pulled back in a severe bun. She had a face like a hatchet, and eyes that burned with malice.

Temperance Richmond. Her mother-in-law.

"Well, well, well," Temperance spat, stepping off the porch. "Look who finally decided to show up."

Kaitlynn tightened her grip on the shopping bags. "Temperance."

"Don't you 'Temperance' me, you little tramp!" the old woman shrieked. "You got my daughter arrested! You turned the whole town against us! And now you're parading around with all these fancy bags, spending money that belongs to my family!"

A few neighbors had come out onto their porches, watching the spectacle. Dawn stood behind her mother, a smug smile on her face.

"Look at her, Ma," Dawn said. "She's got new clothes. She must have stolen from the house."

Temperance lunged forward, her hands reaching for the bags. "Give me that money!"

Kaitlynn sidestepped, moving with a speed and grace that surprised the older woman. Temperance stumbled, catching herself on the porch railing.

The look of shock on Temperance's face twisted into rage. "Why, you little-" She raised her hand, aiming a slap at Kaitlynn's face.

Kaitlynn didn't fight back. She couldn't. Not here, not in front of all these witnesses. If she hit Temperance, the fragile image of the 'poor, abused widow' would shatter. She would become the aggressor.

So she moved. As Temperance's hand swung, Kaitlynn feigned a panicked stumble backward. Her foot caught on an imaginary root, and her body tilted at an impossible angle, her shoulder dropping. To the onlookers, it was a clumsy, terrified retreat. In reality, it was a perfectly executed evasive maneuver that caused the slap to whistle through the air, missing her cheek by a hair's breadth.

"Mommy!"

The screen door banged open. Cason and Paige ran out, their faces pale with fear.

Cason didn't hesitate. He ran straight at Temperance, positioning himself between the old woman and his mother. He spread his arms wide, his small body trembling, but his eyes fierce.

"Don't you touch my mother!" he shouted.

Temperance stopped, her face contorting with disgust. "Get out of my way, you little bastard." She reached out to shove him aside.

Something inside Kaitlynn snapped. The careful calculations, the strategic retreat, the concern for her reputation-all of it evaporated in a red haze of fury.

Nobody touched her son.

Her hand shot out, closing around Temperance's wrist like a vise. She squeezed, feeling the brittle bones grind together.

Temperance gasped, her eyes going wide with pain and shock.

Kaitlynn leaned in close, her face inches from the old woman's. Her eyes were no longer the eyes of a frightened widow. They were the eyes of a predator.

"Take your hand off my son," Kaitlynn said, her voice low and deadly. "Or I will break every bone in your body."