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CHAPTER 1 — THE COFFEE COLLISION
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2025-11-28 20:34:31Arielle Lawson’s morning began with the kind of silence that never meant anything good.
The kind that sat heavy on your chest. The kind that tasted like dread. Her phone vibrated on the nightstand at 7:12 a.m., and she reached for it with half open eyes, She expected a reminder to pay overdue bills, or maybe a notification from the hospital needing another signature. But when she saw the caller ID, her stomach dropped. Dr. Wilson..... She sat up instantly. “Hello?” “Miss Lawson,” the doctor began gently. Too gently. “Your sister’s test results are back. Her liver enzymes are elevated again.” Arielle pressed a hand over her eyes. “But she was improving.” “I’m afraid she’s showing signs of deterioration. We’re monitoring her closely, but we may need to discuss additional procedures.” Procedures. That word always meant money. Money she didn’t have and had run out of ways to borrow. “Can I come after my shift?” she whispered. “Yes. Come as soon as you can.” The call ended. Arielle stared at her cracked ceiling for a full minute before forcing herself out of bed. She couldn’t break. Not today. Emma needed strength, not fear. She dressed quickly, rushing through her cluttered room, grabbing her apron, tying her shoes with shaking hands. She whispered a prayer under her breath, the same one she repeated every morning. Keep Emma alive. Give me one more day to fix this. She locked her tiny apartment behind her and ran. ************ MapleSun Bistro was already busy when she arrived, clinking cups, blenders whirring, angry customers tapping their feet. The smell of burnt toast and cheap beans wrapped around her like unwanted fog. “You’re late,” Mrs. Green snapped the moment Arielle walked in. “I’m sorry,” Arielle muttered. “The hospital” “You always have an excuse. Get to work.” Arielle bit the inside of her cheek and swallowed everything she wanted to say. If she lost this job, Emma would lose a lot more than that. She pinned her badge on, tied her apron tight, and threw herself into the morning chaos. ************ By 8:40 a.m., her head throbbed. A toddler screamed because his muffin had the “wrong icing.” Two teenagers argued about which coffee was more “aesthetic.” A middle aged man complained his latte foam was too “energetic.” Arielle apologized, smiled, bowed, apologized again. Her phone kept vibrating. She didn’t have the courage to look. She couldn’t handle more bad news. ** At 9:15 a.m., the atmosphere shifted. The café door swung open, and a tall man in a tailored black suit stepped inside, and everything, even the noise, seemed to hush. Arielle didn’t notice him at first. She was balancing a full tray of orders, weaving between tables, her mind drifting to Emma, her soft curls, her small voice, her terrified question from yesterday: “Ari, am I dying?” Arielle had smiled and said no. But fear had clawed at her throat all night. Her phone buzzed again in her apron. She shouldn’t check it. Not while carrying hot drinks. But what if it was urgent? She shifted the tray, just as she lifted her phone enough to read the notification: Miss Lawson, please come in immediately. We need to discuss Emma’s treatment plan. Her heart dropped. Her balance slipped. And the tray tipped forward. A full cup of steaming coffee soared through the air in slow, horrifying motion, ....and splashed directly onto the chest of the man now standing at the counter. Gasps shot through the café. Arielle froze. The tray clattered to the floor. Her breath vanished. “Oh no, no, no, sir, I’m so sorry” The man looked down at the soaking fabric of his suit. Slowly, Deliberately. His jaw tightened. He lifted his gaze to hers. And Arielle felt the world tilt. His eyes were cold. Not angry. Not shocked. Just… ice. “Are you out of your mind?” he said, voice calm in the most terrifying way. Arielle’s mouth opened and closed. “It was an accident, I swear, I just, my sister is....” “I don’t care about your personal life,” he snapped. “You weren’t paying attention. You were reckless.” Arielle felt the humiliation hit her like a slap. People were whispering. Someone was recording. “I’ll fix it,” she whispered. “I’ll clean it, I’ll pay,” “You?” He looked her from head to toe, expression unreadable. “Pay for a custom tailored suit?” She blinked. “I get it dry cleaned” “You couldn’t even afford the buttons if you try..” Her throat closed. “Sir, I” “You’re irresponsible,” he continued, voice dropping lower. “And clearly incompetent.” Arielle’s eyes stung. “You don’t know me.” “I know enough,” he said. “You ruined an entire morning’s schedule with your stupidity.” Stupidity. Incompetent. Reckless. Every word she’d heard from teachers, relatives, social workers stabbed at her mind. She forced herself to breathe. “Please just let me explain” “Explain?” He stepped closer. “Do you know who I am?” She shook her head, terrified of what he might do to her. Mrs. Green appeared behind her, pale and sweating. “Mr. Blackwood” Arielle’s stomach flipped, her boss know him, OMG he might my someone important and I'm going to get fired. “Mr. Bla... wait, I didn’t.... I didn’t know” Damian Blackwood’s expression didn’t change. Mrs. Green turned on Arielle instantly, fear making her cruel. “You’re fired. Immediately. Turn in your badge.” Arielle’s breath cracked. “Please, Mrs. Green, give me 1 more chance, I really need this job” “Save it!” the manager hissed. “This is the last straw. You’re done here.” Arielle felt tears rising, burning her eyes. “My sister is in the hospital. I can’t lose this job, please.” Damian raised a look at them sharply. Both women fell silent. Then he said, in a voice colder than the air conditioner: “Security.” Two guards approached from near the door. Arielle shook her head, stepping back instinctively. “No... no, please.... I didn’t mean....” “get her out of here,” Damian said without hesitation, without emotion, without even looking at her. “Sir, please” Arielle’s voice cracked, humiliation swallowing her whole. “Please don’t do this. I’m begging you” He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t spare her a second glance. To him, she wasn’t a person. She was an inconvenience. The guards grabbed her arms gently but firmly. “Arielle Lawson,” Mrs. Green said stiffly, “you are no longer employed at MapleSun Bistro.” Arielle didn’t fight. She couldn’t. Her legs felt numb. Her throat felt shattered. People stared. Phones recording. Whispers buzzing like flies. The guards walked her toward the exit. She looked back one last time. Damian Blackwood was brushing the coffee off his suit with bored fingers, already moving on… as if she were nothing, a stain on his morning. The café doors opened. Cold air hit her. And her life fell apart again.
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