4

Outside, the cool afternoon air hit my face, grounding me. The streets were quiet, blissfully oblivious to the storm brewing one year in the future. People were walking their dogs, grabbing coffee, and living normal lives.

Ten minutes later, I pushed open the glass door of the local tea shop. The bell above the door chimed, and the cozy aroma of chamomile and roasted tealeaves filled the air.

I scanned the room, expecting to see some shady black-market character in a trench coat. Instead, sitting at a corner table by the window, was a young man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit.

My heart instantly dropped into my stomach.

The sharp jawline. The messy, styled dark hair. The posture of someone who casually owned half the city's skyline.

Steve Diamond.

In my past life, he was the terrifying, suit-wearing zombie stalker who tracked me through the apocalypse, groaning my name while holding rotten trinkets.

In this timeline? He was fully human, breathtakingly handsome, alive, and taking a delicate sip from a porcelain teacup.

As if sensing my presence, he turned his head. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and the corner of his lips curved into a smooth, devastating smile.

"Miss Spears," Steve said, his voice smooth as silk as he stood up to pull out a chair for me. "You're right on time."

"Are you—um, the... you know, the famous—"

I couldn't even finish my sentence.

Steve lifted one perfectly groomed dark eyebrow, setting his porcelain teacup down with a light, deliberate clink.

"No asking," he interrupted, his tone as cool and crisp as a multi-million-dollar board meeting. "I’m the one paying, Miss Spears, which means I ask the questions."

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost strained a muscle. Wow. Okay, handsome, but absurdly rude. Typical snubby billionaire.

Up close, the man was disgustingly attractive. Twenty-eight years old, broad shoulders, brooding features, and striking blue eyes that looked like they could cut through glass. In my past life, he was a bloody, suit-wearing corpse groaning my name. In this life? He was a smug CEO with an attitude problem.

"Fine. No asking, Mr. Mysterious," I muttered, sliding into the booth across from him. "Ask away."

He leaned back, resting his chin on his steepled fingers, those ocean-blue eyes scrutinizing my face. "Where did a twenty-year-old barista get her hands on a custom, solid 24-karat gold vintage phone?"

How the hell did he know? But he was a billionaire for a second, maybe he had a background check on me earlier.

"An eccentric relative left me a bunch of weird heirlooms," I lied without missing a beat, keeping my voice deadpan. "I'm broke, he's dead, and I like cash. Any other interrogations, or are we here to do business?"

Before reaching into my hoodie, my gaze flicked to the table directly behind him. Two massive guys in black suits were sitting there, wearing dark sunglasses indoors, stiffly twirling forks into bowls of carbonara while sipping English breakfast tea. It was the most absurd, intimidating sight ever.

"Are those two your bodyguards?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve’s lips twitched into a subtle, arrogant smirk. "You’re surprisingly observant, Miss Spears. Most people are too distracted by me to notice my security."

WOW! So full of himself.

"Right. You're a gift to humanity," I drawled, suppressing a snort. "Anyway, here's the goods."

I reached into my oversized hoodie pocket and pulled out the solid gold Nokia 3310, placing it on the wooden table between us.

The moment his eyes landed on it, the smug CEO mask completely melted away. His dark blue eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated awe.

He reached out with trembling, reverent fingers, picking up the golden brick as if it were a fragile newborn baby. He flipped it over, inspecting the weight, the pristine luster, the flawless seamless craftsmanship—craftsmanship courtesy of my literal stomach acid.

"Incredible..." Steve breathed, his voice dropping into a fascinated murmur. "The density... the purity. It's utterly flawless."

"Told you," I said, leaning back and crossing my arms.

"Twenty thousand dollars," Steve said immediately, not even bothering to haggle. "Cash. Right now."

"Deal," I blurted out so fast the word practically flew out of my mouth.

Steve didn't hesitate. He gestured subtly to one of the pasta-eating bodyguards behind him. The guard immediately stood up, pulled a thick, crisp white envelope from his suit jacket, handed it to Steve, and sat back down to finish his tea.

Steve slid the envelope across the table. "Count it if you want, but I’m leaving. I have a flight to catch."

"I trust you, Big Bucks," I said, snatching the envelope and casually sliding it into my hoodie front pocket like an absolute black-market pro. Inside, my heart was doing backflips. TWENTY THOUSAND FREAKING DOLLARS!

Steve stood up, buttoning his charcoal suit jacket with practiced ease. But just as he turned to walk away, his blue eyes caught a flash of bright red and silver hanging loosely out of my hoodie's kangaroo pocket—the ruby and diamond bracelet I had thrown up twenty minutes ago.

He froze. His brow furrowed into a deep, intense frown.

He leaned down, his face suddenly inches from mine, his blue eyes burning with an unsettling, laser-focused intensity that sent a sudden, eerie chill straight down my spine.

"What..." Steve whispered, his voice dangerously low as he pointed a long, manicured finger at my pocket, "...is that?"

"Oh! This is some, um, well, heirloom as well..." I stammered, scrambling for words.

Steve didn't even let me finish. "Is that the ruby diamond Apo-grade bracelet?" he demanded, his blue eyes narrowing in a sharp, searching frown as if trying to decode a puzzle right on my face.

"Well... yeah," I nodded, pulling my hoodie tighter around myself. "Look, this is mine, okay? I didn't steal it! I just..."

"I'll buy it," he interrupted flatly. "Thirty thousand dollars. Cash. Right now."

My jaw dropped. "Are you... sure?"

Without a word, Steve motioned to his bodyguard again. Another thick envelope was produced and dropped onto the table. 

I sat there in total bewilderment, staring at the stack of cash. I had literally bought a cheap trinket from a mall kiosk a few months back, and now this brooding billionaire was staring at it like it was a legendary heirloom and slapping a name on it that I'd never even heard of.

None of it made an ounce of sense. Why did he call it that? How could he possibly recognize something that shouldn't even exist? The sheer absurdity of the situation sent my mind reeling, but my broke reality won out—I handed over the bracelet, pocketed the second envelope, and we parted ways without another word.

Walking out of the tea shop, my heart was hammering against my ribs like a freight train. My hoodie pockets were weighed down with fifty thousand dollars in cash, yet my brain felt completely foggy and overwhelmed. 

The rush of everything, the strange events, the sudden stacks of money, the surreal encounter with Steve—left me feeling disconnected and breathless.

I took a deep breath of the cool outside air, trying to anchor myself back to reality. I walked over to the local grocery store nearby to grab the milk, sugar, and apples my mom needed for her pie, letting the mundane task ground me.