Chapter 6 – The Crack in the Cup 

“Good morning, world!”

Celine twirled into the café with two paper bags dangling from her hands like trophies. “Breakfast, my loyal minions!” she declared.

Marites groaned from behind the counter. “Celine, you bought doughnuts again. We literally sell pastries here. Pastries!”

“Correction,” Celine said grandly, holding up the bag like a sacred offering, “we sell sad little muffins. These—” she shook the bag “—are sugary circles of happiness. Bow before their glory!”

The crew laughed, though Marites muttered, “If we go bankrupt from carb overload, I’m blaming you.”

“Relax, Ate Marts,” Celine teased, already passing out the treats. “Think of it as… employee morale! Sugary bribes for loyalty.”

“Employee bribery is still illegal.”

“Only if you get caught.”

That earned her another round of laughter, and for a moment Celine felt it again—that warmth in her chest, the illusion she clung to. Here, she wasn’t Navarro Coffee’s heiress or the reluctant future of a billion-peso empire. She was just Celine, the chaotic barista with doughnuts in her hands and coffee foam on her apron.

The bell over the door chimed.

Liam walked in.

“Wow,” he said, taking in the scene. “Am I interrupting a cult ritual, or is this just a pastry sacrifice?”

“You wish,” Celine shot back. “No doughnuts for you. You’re on muffin probation.”

“Harsh. What did I ever do to muffins?”

“You didn’t respect them,” Marites deadpanned.

Celine smirked. “Justice for muffins.”

He gave a little laugh, but his eyes were shadowed, and when the laughter of the café crew faded, Celine noticed the tension in his jaw.

“Late night?” she asked softly when no one else was listening.

“You could say that.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

She wanted to push, but before she could, the manager called her over about inventory. By the time she looked back, Liam had retreated to a corner table. His sketchbook sat unopened, his fingers drumming on the wood like a man counting down the seconds.

And in his pocket, the USB burned.

It would be so easy. The manager always left the office computer unlocked during rush hour. A five-minute upload, and it would be done. His debts erased. His sister safe.

But it would destroy this café.

Destroy her.

He tried not to look at Celine, but his eyes betrayed him. She was behind the counter, laughing at something Marites said, flour dust on her cheek. She looked so alive, so free. His chest ached with the weight of what he was about to do.

“Hey.”

He jolted. She was suddenly standing in front of him, holding a cappuccino with a perfect little heart in the foam.

“On the house,” she said with a wink. “Because you look like you just got dumped by life itself.”

He forced a chuckle. “Guess life and I are… on a break.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m an expert at breakups.” She leaned in, mock-serious. “All you need is three things: sugar, sarcasm, and someone to remind you that you’re still ridiculously good-looking.”

Liam nearly inhaled his coffee the wrong way. “You think I’m—”

“Don’t get cocky, Reyes. It’s the muffin talking.”

She sauntered off, grinning, leaving him staring after her with guilt tightening around his ribs like a vice.

Later that night, the café lights dimmed, the last customers left, and the soft hum of closing routines filled the space. Celine hummed under her breath as she wiped down tables, Marites counted cash at the register, and Liam lingered by the counter like a shadow.

“You don’t have to wait around,” Celine said cheerfully, flicking her rag at him. “We’re closing up. Go home before I start charging you rent.”

He smiled faintly. “Sure. Night, Celine.”

But he didn’t leave.

Instead, when Marites disappeared into the back with a mop and Celine vanished into the kitchen for the dish trays, Liam slipped quietly toward the office.

His pulse thundered. Every step was treason. Every breath tasted of betrayal. He shut the door behind him, hands trembling as he plugged in the USB. The screen glowed, a progress bar crawling forward.

30%.

50%.

The café was silent, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the irregular grind of the ice machine. Liam’s throat was dry. He almost thought he’d get away with it—

Until the office door creaked open.

“Liam?”

Her voice.

His blood ran cold.

He turned—

And there she was. Celine, framed in the doorway, a tray of mugs in her hands. Her eyes flicked from his face to the glowing computer screen… to the USB blinking red.

The tray tilted in her grip, a mug wobbling dangerously. Her brow furrowed, confusion bleeding into suspicion.

And Liam froze, caught between the girl he was falling for… and the crime he couldn’t stop.