Chapter 42 – An Unwelcome Note

  The bell above the café door chimed as Lucien stepped back inside, followed closely by Dorian and Theo.

  The familiar warmth of Café Ashborne wrapped around them instantly. The low murmur of customers, the clatter of cups, the comforting smell of roasted beans and baked bread. It felt grounding in a way nothing else did.

  Darius looked up from behind the counter the moment he saw them. He didn’t rush forward, didn’t ask anything immediately, but the question was written clearly on his face.

  Cerys noticed too. She set aside what she was doing and turned toward them, her expression calm but alert, the way it always was when something mattered.

  Alina hovered nearby, pretending to reorganize a stack of menus while very obviously eavesdropping.

  Before either parent could speak, Lucien smiled.

  “It went smoothly,” he said. “Everything’s settled.”

  That single sentence changed the room.

  Darius let out a breath so quiet it almost went unnoticed, but Lucien caught it. His father leaned his hands against the counter, shoulders loosening as if something heavy had finally been set down.

  “Smoothly?” Cerys asked, just to be sure.

  “Yes,” Lucien confirmed. “There will be no delays and no complications. And… no need to mortgage the café.”

  That did it.

  Cerys closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, relief softening her features. She reached out and squeezed Darius’s arm without a word.

  Darius nodded once, steady and composed as ever, but the tension that had lived behind his eyes was gone.

  “I trusted you,” he said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t worried.”

  Lucien nodded. “I know.”

  Alina finally abandoned all pretenses.

  “So, the café’s safe?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Lucien said, smiling at her. “Completely.”

  She grinned. “Good. I didn’t want the café to go away.”

  That earned a few quiet laughs.

  From the nearby table, Riven had already half-turned in his chair, interest written plainly on his face. He didn’t bother pretending he hadn’t been listening.

  “Alright,” he said, leaning forward. “You don’t just walk back in here looking that relieved and expect us to ignore it. What actually happened at the bank?”

  Seliora shifted her chair closer, eyes sharp with curiosity. Kaelen set his cup down slowly, giving Lucien his full attention. Evelis folded her hands together, waiting.

  Lucien could already tell from their faces that his friends had been waiting for more. He didn’t drag it out. He briefly went over what had happened at the bank, skipping the details but giving them enough to understand the outcome.

  As he spoke, expressions shifted from curiosity to surprise, then to relief. A few exchanged looks that said that shouldn’t have been so easy, but no one complained.

  However it had happened, it had helped them. The deal was good and things had worked in their favor.

  That was enough to make everyone smile.

  Just as the conversation settled into an easier rhythm, a sharp rise in voices cut through the café.

  Near the table closest to the entrance, a man and a woman both looking to be around their early thirties had drawn sudden attention. Their chairs were pushed back at awkward angles, and Mira stood facing them, hands raised slightly in a placating gesture.

  “What do you mean there’s nothing wrong?” the man snapped loudly. “Are you calling us liars now?”

  The woman beside him scoffed, her voice even sharper. “We found hair in the food. And bugs. Don’t even try to deny it. This place is filthy.”

  Several heads turned at once.

  Mira kept her voice steady, though Lucien could see the tension in her shoulders. “I’m not calling anyone a liar,” she said carefully. “I’m just saying that what you’re describing doesn’t align with how we operate. Our kitchen is cleaned thoroughly after every shift. The utensils are sanitized. Everything is checked.”

  “Oh, listen to her,” the woman said loudly, folding her arms. “That’s what they all say before someone gets sick.”

  The man raised his voice further, clearly aware now that he had an audience. “The food tasted off too. Poor quality ingredients. And look at this place, are we supposed to believe it’s hygienic?”

  Mira shook her head slightly. “Sir, with respect, that’s simply not possible. We don’t keep leftovers overnight. Everything is sold fresh daily. Especially now, our turnover is too high for food to sit long enough to spoil.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “That’s convenient,” the woman sneered. “So now you’re saying we imagined it?”

  Their voices rose together, overlapping, growing louder by the second.

  Lucien’s smile faded.

  Behind the counter, Darius had gone still. Cerys’s expression tightened, her eyes already scanning the situation. Rian, near the kitchen entrance, straightened immediately, attention fixed on the table. Jareth’s head appeared briefly from the back, his face darkening the moment he realized what was happening.

  Lira froze where she stood.

  The raised voices, the sharp accusations, the way the attention in the café had shifted so suddenly, it all hit her at once. Her hands tightened around the tray she was holding, knuckles whitening.

  Near the counter, Alina’s lower lip trembled. She looked from the shouting couple to Mira, then toward Lucien, confusion and fear welling up together. The café had always been loud, busy, warm but never like this.

  Before the fear could spill over, Mariel moved.

  She stepped in smoothly, lifting Alina up without hesitation and pressing her gently against her shoulder.

  “It’s nothing,” Mariel murmured softly, rocking her just enough to calm her. “You’re okay. It’s just noise.”

  Alina clutched at her shirt, eyes still wide.

  “Your brother’s here,” Mariel continued quietly. “He’ll take care of it.”

  That seemed to help. Alina buried her face against Mariel’s shoulder, breathing unevenly but no longer on the verge of tears.

  Mira continued calmly, even as the accusations piled up.

  “We source our ingredients from the Marilon Logistics Guild,” she explained, projecting her voice just enough to be heard without shouting. “They’re one of the most reputable suppliers in the city. Every delivery is inspected. We’ve never had a contamination issue.”

  “Oh, so now you’re hiding behind suppliers?” the man barked, slamming his palm against the table. “That’s rich.”

  The woman glanced around deliberately, her voice rising another notch. “Everyone here should think twice before eating this garbage. No cleanliness, poor quality food, and now they’re trying to silence customers.”

  Mira opened her mouth to respond, but it was clear they weren’t listening.

  They weren’t here for explanations. They were here for attention.

  Lucien watched closely now.

  This was performance.

  Rian’s expression had hardened completely, fists clenched at his sides, jaw set so tight it looked like it might crack. Every accusation felt personal to him. They weren’t just insulting the café. They were accusing the kitchen. Accusing him.

  Jareth appeared beside him after taking out the current batch and setting it aside so it wouldn’t spoil, his face dark, eyes cold.

  He didn’t say a word, but his posture made his position clear. If Rian moved, Jareth wasn’t going to stop him. Not when the kitchen staff were being openly slandered.

  Even Elias, usually calm and measured, had taken a step forward, shoulders squared, clearly ready to confront the couple himself.

  Lucien saw all of it.

  He raised his hand sharply.

  Rian stopped mid-step, muscles coiled, breath heavy. Elias hesitated, then forced himself to stand down as well, though his glare never left the table.

  Lucien didn’t need to say anything.

  The signal was enough.

  Darius and Cerys stood rigid. They had endured busy days, long hours, exhaustion, and stress, but nothing like this before.

  They had never faced open hostility like this before. Never had to deal with someone deliberately trying to damage what they had built. Darius’s instinct was to step in, to defend the café outright, but he didn’t know how to handle this kind of situation without making it worse.

  Cerys’s fingers curled against the counter edge, her mind racing through possibilities, none of them comforting.

  At the center of it all, Mira held her ground.

  Mira tried once more, her tone firm but respectful. “If there’s an issue with your order, we can replace it or refund you. But making accusations like this without evidence—”

  “Evidence?” the man interrupted loudly. “You want evidence? Maybe we should call the inspectors. Let them shut this place down.”

  A murmur rippled through the café.

  Mira’s jaw tightened, but she held her ground. “You’re welcome to involve inspectors if you believe that’s necessary. We have nothing to hide.”

  That only seemed to encourage them.

  The woman smiled thinly, as if she’d been waiting for that line. “Oh, don’t worry. We will.”

  Mira’s voice stayed even. Her posture stayed open. She neither retreated nor rose to the bait.

  “I understand you’re upset,” she said calmly, even as the couple talked over her. “But shouting won’t help resolve this. If there’s a real issue, we can address it properly.”

  “We are addressing it,” the woman snapped. “Publicly.”

  The man scoffed loudly. “That’s the only way places like this learn.”

  Lucien felt heat rise in his chest as sharp anger flared, controlled only by effort. He did not move yet. He simply watched.

  The way the man kept raising his voice every time someone nearby turned to look and the way he kept glancing around, checking how many people were watching. The way the woman timed her accusations to moments of silence and her voice grew louder every time a new customer paused near the entrance. The way neither of them accepted even the smallest attempt at resolution and they never once showed actual concern for a solution.

  This wasn’t frustration, it was calculated.

  Around them, the effect was already spreading.

  A pair of students who had just entered hesitated near the door, whispering to each other as they glanced toward the raised voices. A first-time customer paused mid-bite, looking down at their plate with a faint crease of doubt forming on their brow. A couple seated near the window exchanged uncertain looks, their earlier conversation forgotten as their attention drifted toward the commotion. Others leaned back in their chairs, watching closely, waiting to see how the café would respond.

  Doubt was creeping in.

  Not because the accusations were convincing but because they were loud.

  Lucien’s friends were visibly tense now.

  Theo looked lost, unsure of what to do. He hadn’t expected this right after they’d returned from the bank with everything going right.

  Riven’s jaw was tight. Seliora’s eyes were sharp and focused, already analyzing the situation. Kaelen looked ready to stand up and say something reckless. Evelis watched quietly, concern etched into her expression.

  Dorian stood with his arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his gaze never left the arguing pair. His mind was already working through consequences, optics, and outcomes. This wasn’t just a disturbance to him. It was a reputational risk unfolding in real time.

  He leaned slightly toward Kaelen and spoke in a low voice, careful not to draw attention.

  “Don’t,” Dorian said quietly.

  Kaelen froze mid-shift, already half out of his chair.

  “I know,” Dorian continued, voice steady. “It would be the fastest way to end this. Step in, raise your voice, shut it down.”

  Kaelen clenched his jaw.

  “And it would also be the worst possible move right now,” Dorian added. “Two customers making a scene is one problem. Us looking like we’re intimidating or bullying them is another. The second one spreads faster.”

  Kaelen exhaled slowly.

  “They’re being unreasonable,” he muttered.

  “They are,” Dorian agreed. “And that doesn’t matter. Not to the people watching.”

  Kaelen glanced around the café, finally noticing the new customers hovering near the entrance, the first-timers watching with uncertain expressions.

  Dorian finished quietly, “If you try to help Lucien by forcing this, you’ll only make it worse.”

  After a moment, Kaelen sat back down, frustration written clearly on his face, but restraint winning out.

  He didn’t like it.

  But he knew Dorian was right.

  Lucien took a slow breath. He was angry, but he was not going to lose control. This was neither the place nor the time.

  If these two wanted a scene, then how he handled it next would decide far more than just this moment and Lucien knew it.