Watching this kid—who'd one day wreck the world—treat one meal like it was gold, I blurted, "Spring break's coming. Want to help at the stand? I'll cover your food."His whole face lit up. "Really?""Yup. We'll be at the tourist spot. It gets insane, and I need backup." I ruffled his wild hair. "You're hired. Kill it and I'll throw in extra shrimp."He snapped to attention. "Miss Murphy, thank you."I meant to walk him home, but he wouldn't let me—insisted on pushing the cart instead. Only when we got to my place did he finally take off, backpack slung tight.I watched his skinny frame fade down the street, this ache curling in my chest. Whatever it took, I'd rewrite his ending.He wasn't a villain yet. Just a broken kid trying to survive.Spring break hit, and Rory showed up before sunrise. Every. Single. Day.He'd scan yesterday's numbers like a tiny CEO, then pick the best money spot. Wiped tables, cleared dishes, scrubbed plates—fast, smooth, like he'd done it forever. Kid
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