Semua Bab Sips of Seduction: The Billionaire Heiress: Bab 21 - Bab 30

The conference room was a cathedral of glass and steel, sunlight filtering through the high windows, bouncing off polished tables that seemed designed to intimidate. Celine had grown up in this room—board meetings, shareholder briefings, family arguments disguised as business discussions. She had learned early how to turn her face into neutrality and answer questions without revealing anything she truly thought.But she wasn’t a silent heir or a dutiful daughter this morning. She was a problem.“Explain yourself,” her father’s voice boomed, the edge of command so sharp it cut the air. His tailored suit, his silver cufflinks, the way he leaned forward with disappointment carved into every line of his face—Celine felt it like a hand pressing her down.Across the table, her older brother Mateo smirked, as if enjoying the spectacle. He didn’t have to say a word. His presence was enough—the favored son, the golden heir, sitting comfortably while she burned.“I thought I was clear,” Celine s

The glass doors of the Navarro Coffee branch swung open with a chime, and Celine stepped inside. The air was heavy with espresso and caramel syrup, the hiss of steaming milk blending with the chatter of customers. It smelled nothing like boardrooms or polished leather—it smelled alive.For a moment, she stood frozen, clutching the strap of her bag as though it could anchor her. This was no longer the safe bubble of the corporate tower. Here, people came for their caffeine fix, their brief respite before diving back into the chaos of the city. Here, she was just another face behind the counter.“Celine!”Marites’s voice cut through the noise, warm and steady. The older woman bustled from the bar, her apron dusted with coffee grounds, her smile wide enough to ease the tension in Celine’s chest.“You actually came. Thought you might chicken out.”Celine managed a wry smile. “I thought about it. Twice.”“Good. That means you’re human.” Marites pressed a folded apron into her hands. “Come

Morning arrived with a reluctant light, pale and diffused through the café’s front windows. Navarro Coffee’s branch still bore the scars of last night—burned froth clinging stubbornly to the steam wand, syrup bottles lying on their sides, and the faint scent of charred coffee that lingered like a warning. Celine opened the glass door, the familiar chime cutting through the quiet, and stepped inside. Her notebook was clutched tightly in one hand, a catalog of scribbles documenting equipment damage, lost inventory, and the scattered chaos of a booth that had briefly descended into disaster.She paused for a heartbeat, inhaling. The café smelled alive, a mix of espresso, caramel, and faint traces of pastry smoke. Nothing like the sterile halls of Navarro Plaza or the intimidating cold of boardrooms. Here, life pulsed, imperfect and human, and for the first time in weeks, she felt tethered not to duty or expectation, but to choice.Baristas trickled in, their movements cautious, eyes flic

The morning sunlight spilled through the café’s tall windows, catching the steam rising from cups and casting thin golden lines across the floor. On the surface, it looked like any other morning—customers trickling in, baristas tying aprons, grinders humming to life.But to Celine, the air felt heavier. The black car was still there. Parked across the street, engine idling, its tinted windows revealing nothing and everything at once. She couldn’t see who sat inside, but she felt watched. Every step she took behind the counter carried the weight of unseen eyes.Marites moved briskly, organizing the pastry case with her usual precision. She didn’t say anything, but twice, Celine caught her gaze flicking toward the street. Too fast, too subtle for the others to notice—but Celine noticed. It made her pulse quicken.“Your latte art looks tragic.”Celine blinked and glanced down. She had poured the foam heart too fast, resulting in a lopsided blob that might have passed for an egg. Liam sto

The city streets buzzed with late morning life, vendors calling out their specials, the scent of roasted chestnuts mixing with exhaust fumes. Celine balanced a paper bag of groceries against her hip, her other hand clutching a list she had half-finished scribbling on the subway. It felt almost normal to be outside the café—even if normal had been hard to come by lately.She slowed near a corner bakery, distracted by the neat rows of pastries gleaming in the window. That was when someone collided with her shoulder.The bag wobbled, an orange tumbling free. Strong fingers caught it before it hit the pavement.“Careful,” said a familiar voice, dry as ever.Her pulse stumbled. “Liam?”He held out the orange, his expression hovering between apology and amusement. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing faint bruises along his forearm, the kind you couldn’t explain away with clumsy accidents.“Guess fate’s got a sense of humor,” he said.“Or you’re stalking me,” Celine shot back, reclai