Semua Bab The Secret Billionaire in Aisle 9 : Bab 1 - Bab 5

Callie Ruiz showed up to BuyMore Store #147 ten minutes early with a cold cup of coffee and zero illusions. She’d worked here long enough to know that optimism was for people who hadn’t seen a raccoon fall through the ceiling in aisle five. Twice.The automatic doors groaned as she walked in, already halfway through her mental checklist: open the registers, reset the snack display Brenda kept rearranging into a smiley face, check if Mr. Preston had remembered to do the schedule (he hadn’t), and pray that none of the new hires quit before lunch.The air inside was already heavy with burnt popcorn from the breakroom microwave and the unmistakable tang of cleaning solution that never quite masked the smell of old floor wax. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead like they, too, were trying to quit.“Morning, Callie,” Marcus called from behind Register Three, wearing his usual expression of suspicion. “The registers were blinking at me again. I think they know I know.”“They know you’re la

BuyMore wasn’t known for its after-hours parties. Most “events” were loosely organized affairs involving a dusty cake, half-wilted balloons from the clearance rack, and Brenda sneaking tiny bottles of rum into her Diet Coke. Still, they did their best. And when Preston put out the word that there’d be a welcome get-together for the new guy—Eli, the brave soul of Aisle Eleven—most of the team showed up.The party was scheduled for 7 p.m., an hour after closing. By 6:45, the front-end lights were off, the cash drawers locked, and the staff had migrated to the breakroom, which now featured:One folding table covered in a crinkled "WELCOME!" banner taped hastily across the edge.Three store-brand two-liter sodas (cola, lemon-lime, and a mysterious “fruit punch”).A stack of sad-looking pizza boxes from the strip mall joint next door.And Brenda's Bluetooth speaker playing a playlist she proudly titled “Bangers for Breaks.”Eli lingered at the doorway like he wasn’t sure if this counted as

Callie was halfway through stacking a wobbly tower of clear storage bins when she heard that voice behind her.“You know,” Eli said, “if I die buried under one of these things, I want you to tell my story. Make it heroic. Like I died saving a child from a runaway cart of Rubbermaid.”Callie didn’t turn around. “You’re overestimating how much anyone here would care.”He stepped into her peripheral vision, grinning. “Still, I think ‘Fallen in the Line of Tupperware’ has a nice ring.”She slid another bin into place. “You’d be lucky to get a cardboard memorial on the breakroom fridge. Maybe a sticky note.”“‘Here lies Eli,’” he said, miming it out with his hands. “‘He tried to alphabetize the plastic ware. He failed.’”“You're so dramatic.”“I prefer ‘theatrically underappreciated.’”That got her to crack a smile—small, but real. She didn’t hand those out easily. Eli noticed.He wasn’t sure how he’d become her aisle partner two days in a row, but he wasn’t about to complain. There was so