Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 10

Celine balanced a tray of croissants like it was made of glass, every step calculated, every breath shallow. She knew the staff had bets on how long it would take her to mess up again today.One step closer to the pastry display. Two steps. Almost there—Thunk.The tray tipped, and a lone croissant escaped, launching itself dramatically onto the counter like a stunt double.Celine froze, horrified. “No, no, no, stay put—”She lunged, scooping the pastry before anyone else could see, and whispered, “Five-second rule, don’t betray me now.”Unfortunately, betrayal came in human form.“Celine,” her manager sighed as she walked past, arms folded across her chest. “That’s the third casualty today. Are you sure you’ve worked in a café before?”Celine flashed her brightest, most innocent smile. “Of course! I make a mean instant coffee at home. With hot water and everything.”Her manager closed her eyes, exhaled through her nose like a tired schoolteacher, and muttered something about new hire

The café lights dimmed as the last customers trickled out. Celine wiped down the counter with exaggerated determination, humming loudly to signal that it was time for everyone to leave. She was in full passive-aggressive barista mode, and usually, it worked like a charm.But one stubborn customer didn’t budge.“You know,” she called across the café, flicking her rag like a sword, “closing time was five minutes ago. Unless you’re planning to grab a mop and help scrub the bathrooms, you should probably leave.”Liam didn’t even glance up. His head was bent low, pencil moving swiftly across the page. “Didn’t realize baristas came with attitude problems.”Celine set the rag down with a dramatic sigh and planted her hands on her hips. “Baristas come with many problems, Reyes. Attitude is just the free sample.”That made him smirk, though he tried to hide it by ducking lower, sketching faster.Rolling her eyes, Celine marched over and leaned against his table, one eyebrow raised. “Seriously,

“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 ju

Festival week was supposed to bring joy. The café smelled of cinnamon and butter, fresh pastries pulled from the oven, and coffee roasted darker than midnight. Colorful flyers were plastered on the windows, each promising games, raffles, and discounts for loyal customers.Celine stood behind the counter, apron dusted with flour, watching the morning crowd trickle in. The sound of chatter swelled and ebbed like a tide, mixing with the hiss of the espresso machine. It should have felt comforting. It should have felt normal.But her mind kept circling back to last night—the glow of the monitor, the quick flicker of the USB disappearing into Liam’s pocket, and the way he looked over his shoulder, as if he knew she was watching.She forced the thought aside as Marites barked out orders to the crew. “Celine, greet those customers properly. Don’t just stand there like a mannequin.”“On it!” Celine pasted on her brightest smile, approaching two students weighed down by oversized backpacks. Sh

Celine couldn’t sleep. She lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling as the muffled city noises bled into her apartment. Liam’s voice from the night before replayed in her head like a broken record—sharp, desperate, cold. Every chuckle, every sarcastic jab they had shared at the café now twisted into something uglier, as if she had been laughing with a stranger all along.Her pillow felt too hot. Her blanket is too heavy. With a frustrated sigh, she threw them off and sat up. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe the stress of the festival had finally broken her. But the image of him in the office, that glowing USB, refused to let her rest.No—she needed proof. Something undeniable.By morning, she wore her usual smile, which felt fragile, stretched thin. The café was buzzing with early festival traffic, laughter spilling in with the scent of roasted beans and buttered croissants. She poured cappuccinos, called out orders, and laughed at Marites’s gossip while keeping Liam in her pe