Chapter 3 3
Five years later
“Get that child out of here now!” Miss Odesse snapped, her voice slicing through the hum of the café. Her face burned red, eyes narrowing at the little boy running between tables.
Blair shut her eyes for a second, feeling the weight of exhaustion press down on her. Across the room, her four-year-old son—Maverick—was laughing, his small hands clutching a cookie he’d somehow snuck from the counter.
“Mav,” Blair called softly, forcing a tired smile as she rushed over. “Come here, baby.”
He ran straight into her arms, still giggling.
She crouched down to his level, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “Stay here, okay? Mommy has to work. Don’t move around, sweetheart. You don’t want Mommy to lose her job, do you?”
He shook his head solemnly. “No, Mommy.”
“Good boy,” she whispered, kissing his forehead before standing.
Behind her, Miss Odesse huffed loudly. “Last warning, Blair,” she said sharply. “I won’t tell you again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Blair said quietly, returning to the counter.
It was almost the hundredth time she’d been warned about Maverick, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t afford his daycare fees anymore, and leaving him alone at home was out of the question.
So every morning, she took his small hand and brought him along—praying each day would be better than the last.
Blair watched him from across the café, a soft smile tugging at her tired lips. Maverick sat at the corner table with his crayons, his tongue poking out in concentration as he painted—just like he did every day.
He was drawing them again.
Mommy and the mysterious daddy he’d never met.
“One day we’ll be fine,” Maverick said proudly, adding a crooked arrow from Mommy to Daddy on the paper. “Mommy will meet Daddy.”
He looked up at her, beaming with that innocent certainty only children had.
Blair’s heart twisted. “Yeah, baby,” she murmured, forcing a smile. “One day.”
Before he could start asking questions—questions she wasn’t ready to answer—she turned away quickly and picked up the cleaning rag, pretending to wipe down tables.
It had been pure luck she survived that night… and even more of a miracle that Maverick had come out of it. He was her whole world now—her only family, her only reason to keep going.
Miss Odesse’s sharp voice cut through Blair’s thoughts.
“Blair! Stop daydreaming and get to work,” she barked, striding out of her office, heels snapping against the tiled floor. “We’ve got a big order—thirty cups, all labeled and sealed. And one special blend for the CEO himself. It’s from some big company downtown.”
Blair quickly wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get started right away.”
“Good. Make sure it’s perfect. They’re paying enough to keep this place open for a week,” Miss Odesse said before disappearing back inside.
Blair sighed under her breath. “Of course they are,” she muttered, tying her hair back and moving toward the counter.
She flipped through the receipts, her eyes pausing on one near the bottom. The letters were bold, printed cleanly across the page — LB Corporation.
Something about it tugged faintly at her memory, but she brushed it off. Probably just another rich company she’d never step foot in.
Maverick peeked up from his drawings. “Mommy, you okay?”
“I’m fine, baby,” she said softly, forcing a smile. “Mommy just has to work a little harder today .”
Within the blink of an eye, Blair was done. She’d packed, sealed, and labeled every single cup, her hands moving faster than her thoughts. At least this was enough to keep Miss Odesse from firing her—after all the warnings, Blair knew she was already hanging by a thread.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead just as the front door swung open. A man in a dark face cap and gray jacket stepped inside, scanning the counter.
“I’m here for the LB Corporation order,” he said, his voice deep but calm.
Blair froze for half a second before nodding quickly. “Right here,” she said, sliding the trays toward him. “Everything’s labeled, and the special blend’s on top.”
He gave a short nod, checking the receipt. “Thanks. The CEO doesn’t like delays.”
Blair’s stomach tightened at the word CEO. There was something about rich men that always threw her off—
the arrogance in their tone, the way they looked at people like her as if she were invisible.
And the worst part?
She’d once let one of them ruin her life.
Blair exhaled shakily and forced herself to move, wiping the counter clean. “It’s just coffee,” she whispered. “Nothing more.”
She tried to act casual, but her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the lid on one of the cups.
“Have a nice day,” she managed to say.
The man gave her a polite nod and left, the café door swinging shut behind him.
Blair stood still, staring at the empty spot on the counter where the order had been.
———
L&B Corporation
The elevator doors slid open to the top floor of LB Corporation. The delivery man stepped out, balancing a tray of steaming cups.
“Delivery for Mr. Brook,” he said to the receptionist, who quickly buzzed him in.
“Go right in,” she said.
As he walked past, one of the secretaries leaned toward another and whispered, “Let’s hope this one’s good. It’s the fifth coffee order this week. Ever since Mr. Brooks got back from abroad, nothing’s been strong enough—or smooth enough—for him.”
The other chuckled nervously. “He’s impossible to please.”
Inside the office—
Lucas Brooks sat behind his massive glass desk, sleeves rolled up, his hair slightly tousled. His eyes—half-lidded and heavy with exhaustion—were glued to the laptop screen.
The delivery man cleared his throat. “Your order, sir.”
Lucas didn’t look up. “Leave it there,” he said simply, his voice low and calm but edged with authority.
The man placed the tray carefully on the table, bowed his head slightly, and backed out of the room.
Lucas reached for the special blend, lifting the lid. The aroma hit him first—
For the first time in days, he actually took a sip.
And paused.
He took another sip, slower this time. Then his brows drew together.
He set the cup down sharply and hit the small silver bell on his desk — ping! — the sound slicing through the quiet office.
Within seconds, his secretary rushed in, almost tripping over herself. “Y-yes, Mr. Brooks?”
Lucas leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the cup.
“Who made this?” he asked, his voice calm but carrying that quiet, dangerous edge that made people sweat.