I searched and fought in America.

Chapter 131 The Noblewoman's Plan

Rosen looked at him. "Maurice chose you, which means he trusts you, and I trust you too. That's why I'm only saying this to you."

He paused.

"This shop isn't about making money; it's about people."

Cameron frowned slightly.

"Who is it?"

"Those people we don't usually come into contact with." Rosen leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest.

"Those wives of politicians, daughters of wealthy businessmen, wives of judges, sisters of journalists—those who hold power and resources but never sit at the same table with us for a meal."

Cameron's eyes widened slightly.

Rosen continued, "How do you think someone from the Ronnie community can strike up a conversation with those people? Visit them in person? They won't even open the door for you."

He paused, "But if you have a shop, a very beautiful, tasteful shop, a shop that makes really good food, people will come on their own."

They'll sit in your shop, eat your desserts, drink your tea, and chat about their lives. As they chat, they'll become familiar with each other.

Once you have a relationship, things become easier to talk to.

Cameron's eyes grew brighter and brighter.

He understood.

He's not stupid. Someone who has written novels and spent a few years in the literary circle has a deeper understanding of human nature than most people.

He knew what those wealthy ladies lacked most: not money, not clothes, not jewelry, but someone to listen to them.

Their husbands are busy socializing, busy attending meetings, and busy dating other women.

Their friends were busy comparing themselves to others, busy scheming, and busy talking behind their backs.

They had so much to say, but no one listened.

If there were a store, a quiet, comfortable, and safe store, with a good-looking, gentle store manager who would listen to people.

Then they will definitely come.

I'll come often!

"But," Cameron suddenly thought of a problem, "even if a dessert shop has the best food, it's hard to attract customers."

"What good food haven't those truly influential people eaten?"

Rosen smiled.

"If it's just an ordinary dessert shop, of course it won't work." He looked Cameron in the eyes, "but I have the confidence."

Cameron was about to ask what gave him the confidence when he suddenly saw Rosen extend his hand, palm up, his hand empty, without anything in it. Then, a book appeared out of thin air in his palm.

Cameron's eyes widened suddenly, and he froze in his chair, staring at the book, then at Rosen's hand, then back at the book.

The book appeared out of thin air.

It didn't slip out of the sleeve, nor was it pulled out from under the clothes; it just suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

"This, this,"

Countless thoughts raced through his mind in that instant: magic? Props? Sleight of hand?

But he watched with his own eyes as the hand appeared from nothing to something, from nothing to full, without any concealment, without any warning, and without any reason that could be explained.

Rosen did not speak.

He simply placed the book on the table and pushed it in front of Cameron. The cover was pale gold, with no title, only a line of very small print: "Honey Lotus Dessert Recipe".

Cameron stared at it, his mind still racing with those thoughts. He was a writer, someone who had read many books, met many people, and heard many stories.

In his view, those legends about "miracles" were nothing more than illusions projected from people's desire for miracles.

God doesn't exist, or rather, even if He did, it wouldn't matter. He wore out the Bible during those darkest days, but received no response.

So when Maurice told him that "the Father possesses true divine magic," he simply nodded, neither refuting nor taking it seriously.

But now...

Before he could think any further, Rosen's fingers twitched slightly, and the book transformed into a stream of light in his palm, then disappeared into Cameron's brow.

Cameron's body stiffened abruptly. He felt something rushing in from the center of his forehead—countless memories.

He seemed to see a pair of hands, a pair of hands kneading dough on a cutting board, tossing the dough up and spreading it out in the air.

Those were his hands, but he definitely didn't knead dough like that.

Then there were two hands warming the chocolate, two hands whipping the cream, two hands coloring the macarons, and two hands making caramel.

He felt as if he had been stuffed into the body of a pastry chef and had been making desserts with that person's hands for ten years.

He didn't know how much time had passed when Cameron came to his senses and found himself still sitting in that folding chair. He looked at his hands, which were exactly the same as they had been a few minutes earlier.

But he knew things were different now.

Those hands know how to knead dough to the perfect elasticity and how to turn off the mixer just before the butter separates.

Those things aren't knowledge; they're instinct.

He looked up at Rosen. In those blue eyes, there was shock, confusion, and something he himself couldn't distinguish as either awe or bewilderment.

His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but his throat felt like it was blocked by something.

Rosen looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips. "How is it? Can you feel it?"

Cameron nodded instinctively. He hadn't found his voice yet, but his body had already answered for him.

Rosen stood up, walked over to him, and patted him on the shoulder. "With these, making desserts should be a breeze."

He withdrew his hand and produced another item, which Cameron saw clearly this time: a booklet.

He should be surprised that someone can pull something out of thin air; the first time it's magic, the second time it's skill.

But he found himself no longer alarmed; having gained those memories, he now viewed the situation with a sense of entitlement.

Rosen shoved the booklet into his hand. "There's a dessert recipe in here. It has a very special flavor. We'll make it our signature dish from now on."

Cameron looked down at the booklet in his hand, the cover of which read, "Honey Lotus Dessert Recipe".

He closed the booklet, looked up, and said, "Father, this recipe..."

"Just do as instructed." Rosen offered no further explanation.

"I have a suggestion for you. You can create a gimmick, the bigger the better, and release a limited number of copies each day. First come, first served, while supplies last. I will support you in the media and promote the brand's reputation."

Cameron nodded.

"And one more thing," Rosen said, walking to the door and glancing back at him, "don't rush, good things are worth waiting for."

The door closed.

Cameron stood in the store, clutching the booklet in his hand. He looked down at his hand, then slowly walked behind the counter and placed the booklet next to the cash register.

He stood there for a long time, then reached out, took a bag of flour from the shelf, opened it, and poured it into a bowl.

His hands knew what to do: kneading, proofing, shaping, baking. Every step was as natural as breathing, as effortless as walking.

As he put the dough into the oven, he watched through the glass door as the dough slowly puffed up inside.

He knew that there were some things he hadn't believed before because he hadn't seen them. But once he had, he couldn't deny them anymore.