A Billionaire's Tale

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the café as Joan carried another cup to the window table—a routine she had mastered over the year.

The middle-aged woman smiled warmly at her. “Thank you, Joan.”

Joan nodded and walked back to the counter.

She started preparing another customer’s order when the door opened, revealing Camila walking towards her with the most ‘I need a week to sleep’ look on her face.

“I need a year break,” Camila announced once she entered the kitchen.

Joan chuckled lightly and placed two cups of coffee with two doughnuts on the counter. She picked up the tray with the customer’s order and walked over to serve him.

Camila reappeared just as Joan reached the counter. Her eyes lit up when she saw the coffee and doughnut on the counter. She looked at Joan gratefully and picked one of each.

They leaned on the counter as they ate.

“You’re the best friend ever.”

“You don’t have any friends,” Joan teased. Camila rolled her eyes.

“I love you, girl,” Camila said with her mouth full.

“Take it easy, and no talking with your mouth full of food,” Joan scolded.

“Yes, Mum.” Camila drank from the coffee again. “But honestly I need a break. From school, from work, from my boss… everything. I need a break, Joan,” she sighed, defeated.

“Cam, you need to take things easy.”

Camila looked at her like she had grown a second head. “Things aren’t taking it easy on me either,” she said, entering the kitchen again.

Joan’s heart ached just seeing her friend like that. She knows how hard it has been for Camila and how hard she’s been trying to cope with everything.

She poured more coffee powder into the coffee pot and started brewing it.

She leaned on the counter as her mind wandered off to when she would make coffee for her dad on her way to work.

She smiled. Then her heart dropped when she remembered how the company was cruelly snatched from them by a competitor due to bankruptcy.

Joan didn’t want to blame anyone for anything but wished her dad had told her about the debt the company was owing before it got out of hand. It didn’t sit well with her, and she has been trying all she could to get them back on their feet and get the company back.

She snapped out of her thought bubble and looked at the brewing pot, then turned it off. She turned around to grab a cup and stopped. Her heart skipped a bit when she saw the brown-haired man standing on the other side of the counter.

The smirk that once made her toes curl drove panic through her body.

“How are you doing, love?” His voice sounded like a tango between sandpaper and a wall. She grimaced. He leaned on the counter and tried to hold Joan’s hand.

Joan was quick to pull her hands away, and she moved away from the counter as she glared daringly at him.

“I warned you not to come here again.” She hated how she sounded when she spoke. It didn’t sound like her, and it irritated her.

“I know you don’t mean that,” he winked.

“Do I have to call the cops for you to believe me?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Easy now, chickpea,” he said, using the nickname she grew to love over the four years of their relationship. Now, it sounded like a curse, and she despised it.

“Joan, can I have a refill with two slices of cheesecake?” one of the customers called out.

Joan cleared her throat and answered. “On the way,” she picked up the coffee pot and put two cheesecakes on a plate, then walked past Henry.

“You need to leave now,” she told Henry when she came back to the counter.

“Baby, I will never leave you. You can’t get rid of me. I’ve said it countlessly,” he said plainly, like it was a threat.

“If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the cops,” she warned, slowly getting scared of what he’ll do.

Henry looked around the café and chuckled coldly.

“You can’t run from me, I hope you know that?”

Joan’s heart skipped. She knew that look on his face. It was of determination, and it would have been good if there weren’t clearly twisted things running through his mind.

Camila burst out of the kitchen holding an eggbeater.

“Beat it before I beat you,” she warned, eyes locked with his cold ones.

Henry laughed. “With that?” he pointed at the eggbeater.

A big, bulky man with an apron around his waist emerged from the kitchen. A slight frown was on his face as he looked at the girls and the guy on the other side of the counter.

“Or he’s gonna beat you,” Camila said confidently.

“What the hell is going on here?” His question was directed at Henry. “This guy bothering you?” he asked the girls.

Henry gulped. “Chill, man, I was leaving already.” He looked at Joan; relief washed over her face as she watched him prepare to leave. “This is not the end. I want you back, and I will get you back.” He walked to the door and stopped. He turned around and smirked, then walked out of the café.

Joan felt chills run down her spine when he said those words. She knew they weren’t empty threats.

“Look, I don’t want people coming here to spill personal matters. This is a business place and should be treated as such, yes?” Kelvin turned to Joan.

Joan nodded with a small smile. “I’m so sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” she told him.

“You good?”

She nodded in response, and he entered the kitchen again.

“Report him.” Camila grabbed her coat. “You have witnesses.” She hugged Joan and waved, then left the café.

Joan sighed and closed her eyes, trying to calm her raging heart.

A customer came to the counter to pay and leave a note on the table for her. There was something off about the way the woman smiled—it unsettled her.

She opened the letter and gasped. Her eyes widened in fear, and her body shook.

Joan immediately picked up her phone and dialed a number. “Hello, I’d like to report a crime.” Her voice shook.