Chapter 1: The Ashes of Sweet Crumbs

The scent of charred wood and burnt sugar lingered in the air, clinging to Emma Carter's clothes and hair as she stood motionless before what remained of her bakery. The fire had consumed nearly everything—her ovens, her shelves, her dreams.

"Sweet Crumbs," once the heart of Maple Ridge's small-town charm, now lay in smoldering ruins. Emma had poured everything she had into that bakery—late nights, scraped savings, years of relentless effort—and in one cruel twist of fate, it was gone.

"You're trespassing, Carter," came a voice behind her, low and sharp like a matchstrike.

Emma turned slowly, already knowing who it was. Logan Hayes, Maple Ridge's newly minted fire chief, leaned casually against the side of his truck. His uniform was crisp, his dark hair tousled, and that ever-present smug look was plastered on his face.

"I'm not trespassing on my own property, Hayes," she snapped, brushing ash off her hands and turning back to the ruin.

His boots crunched on the gravel as he approached. "I'm just saying. It's not safe."

Emma shot him a glare over her shoulder. "You've made that pretty clear already, haven't you?"

The tension between them was palpable, rooted in years of animosity that neither of them could seem to shake. Logan had always been the golden boy—heroic, confident, perfect in every way that grated on Emma's nerves. And now he had the audacity to stand there like he wasn't part of the problem.

"You think this was an accident?" she asked suddenly, crossing her arms as she faced him fully.

Logan's jaw tightened, his dark eyes narrowing. "We're still investigating. But fires don't just start themselves, Emma."

"Exactly," she bit out. "So, maybe instead of hovering around here with your clipboard, you could actually do your job and find out who did this."

Logan stepped closer, his presence as imposing as the fire trucks parked behind him. "Don't start with me, Carter. You think you're the only one dealing with loss? This whole town—"

"Spare me the lecture," she interrupted, her voice sharp. "This wasn't just some building to me. This was my life."

Logan stared at her for a long moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, his boots crunching against the gravel as he headed toward the firetruck.

Emma watched him go, her anger simmering like the embers still glowing in the wreckage. She wanted to hate him—God, it was so easy to hate Logan Hayes. But beneath the fury, there was something else, something she couldn't quite place.

As the last firefighter packed up and the trucks rumbled away, Emma stood alone in the ashes of her dreams. But she wasn't done. Not by a long shot.