Chapter 36 The Diner
The "spot" Gavin had promised turned out to be a diner tucked away in a corner of Brooklyn that looked like it hadn't changed since the 1950s. It was all chrome, neon, and red vinyl, but the air inside was warm and smelled of toasted bread and melted cheese.
It was surreal. I sat in a booth between Grace and Zoe, watching two of the most powerful heirs in the city navigate a world of laminated menus and chipped coffee mugs.
"Is this real gold?" Zoe asked, her voice small and filled with wonder. She reached out a tiny, hesitant finger to touch the heavy signet ring on Theodore’s hand as he sat across from her.
Theodore didn't pull away. He rested his hand flat on the table, allowing her to trace the intricate crest carved into the metal. "It is," he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. "But it’s just a family seal. It’s not as interesting as that story your sister was telling. Did the dragon ever find his home?"
"Mila says home isn't a place, it’s a person," Grace piped up. "But I think home is wherever they have these milkshakes."
Gavin laughed, a bright, genuine sound that drew the attention of a few locals at the counter. "The kid has her priorities straight. Milkshakes for everyone. My treat."
For the next hour, the "Kings" of Alverstone were just two guys. Gavin spent the time teaching Grace how to make a paper straw wrapper "crawl" by dripping water on it. He treated the nine-year-old like an intellectual equal, debating the physics of the straw-worm with a straight face.
When the food arrived—four plates of the promised grilled cheese with truffle oil and a side of golden fries—the girls fell silent. They ate with a focused intensity that made my chest tighten. I saw Theodore notice. He watched Zoe carefully dip a fry into ketchup, his eyes flickering to the thinness of her wrists and the way she savored every single bite as if it were a rare luxury. He looked at me then and I looked away, unable to stomach the pity.
"So," Gavin said, leaning back as he finished half of a sandwich. "Tell me, Grace. If you could have any superpower, what would it be? And 'eating infinite grilled cheese' is already taken by me."
Grace tilted her head, her expression serious. "I’d want to be invisible. So, I could hide when people are shouting."
The table went dead quiet. Gavin’s easy smile faltered, and Theodore’s hand tightened around his water glass. The reality of why we were here—the shouting at home, the debt, the shadow of Nate Salvatore—had just crashed into the booth.
"That’s a good one," Gavin said after a beat, his voice a bit rougher. "But you know, sometimes being loud is better. It lets the monsters know you aren't afraid of them."
"Mila's loud," Zoe whispered, leaning against my arm for comfort. "She told the bad man at the door to go away last week. He had a loud voice and a clipboard."
I felt Theodore’s gaze burn into the side of my face. "A clipboard? Mila, was that a bailiff?"
"Just a bill collector. Zoe, eat your fries," I murmured, my face flushing.
"Mila," Theodore said, his voice low and urgent. "Why didn't you tell us it was getting that bad?"
"Because it’s not your problem," I snapped, finally looking at him. "I’m not letting anyone pay off my family's debts. That’s exactly what Nate wants. He wants me to be a debt that gets traded between the three of you like a commodity."
"We aren't him," Theodore said firmly, his eyes flashing with a rare spark of anger. "Don't group us together just because we share a zip code."
"I know you aren't him. But the money is the same. It all comes from the same world that’s trying to swallow mine."
The tension was broken by the waitress arriving with a tray of massive chocolate sundaes, topped with mountains of whipped cream and maraschino cherries. The girls’ eyes lit up, the momentary darkness of our conversation forgotten in the face of a sugar rush. As they dug in, Gavin moved to the booth behind us to give us a sliver of privacy, engaging Grace in a heated debate about whether or not vanilla was 'boring.'
Theodore leaned across the table, his voice dropping so only I could hear. "Nate is spiraling, Mila. He’s obsessed with the idea that you’re 'corrupting' the order of things at school. But seeing you here... seeing them... it makes sense why you fight him so hard. You're not just fighting for yourself. You're the only thing standing between these two and the world he's trying to build."
"I don't fight him because I want to, Theo. I fight him because if I give an inch, he'll take the whole mile. He's already taking my parents. I can feel them slipping away into his pocket, and they’re smiling while it happens."
Theodore reached out, his fingers brushing the back of my hand. I didn't pull away. The contact was grounding. "He’s not as invincible as he looks. He’s a hollow king, Mila. Just remember that tomorrow."
"What happens tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, he’ll try to remind everyone why he wears the crown. He’s feeling out of control because of what happened at the gala, and when Nate feels out of control, he creates a spectacle to regain his footing."
We sat in silence for a long time after that, watching the girls laugh as they got whipped cream on their noses. For a few hours, we were in a bubble of warmth, protected by two boys who were supposed to be my enemies.
When it was time to leave, Gavin and Theodore insisted on walking us to our apartment, but I stopped them a block away. I couldn't risk my neighbors or my parents seeing me step out of a black town car or walking with the heirs to the city’s fortunes.
"Thank you," I said as we stood under a flickering streetlight that hummed with a low, electric buzz.
"Don't thank us yet," Gavin said, giving me a mock salute. "Tomorrow is going to be a long day. Try to look surprised when I act like an elitist jerk in the hallway. Consistency is key to the brand, Stone."
Theodore lingered for a second longer after Gavin climbed into the car. He looked at the girls, then at me. "Be careful, Mila. He’s looking for a weakness. Don't let him see how much you care about the things he can't buy. If he knows what matters to you, he'll use it as a scalpel."
I watched their taillights vanish into the fog, the warmth of the diner already starting to evaporate from my skin. I knew that tomorrow, the "rules" of Alverstone would be back in place.
As I tucked the girls into bed that night, Zoe whispered, "Are the princes coming back tomorrow?"
"No, honey," I said, kissing her forehead and pulling the thin blanket up to her chin. "Tomorrow, we go back to reality."