DALTON GRAY
People didn't argue with me.
They didn't pause. They didn't stall.
They listened. They delivered.
Or they disappeared.
"Mr. Gray, I just think " the junior associate stammered beside me, voice cracking under pressure.
I didn't look at him. I simply closed the folder in front of me and stood.
"If you ever finish that sentence with another opinion I didn't ask for, I'll assume you're offering your resignation."
Silence.
The boardroom fell into a reverent hush as I walked out.
Another delay. Another poorly calculated risk.
I didn't tolerate incompetence.
Not in contracts. Not in meetings. Not in coffee.
Especially not in coffee.
Elaine my executive assistant matched my stride as I left the building.
"Investment meeting moved to four. Japan merger still wants a morning call tomorrow," she reported without looking up from her tablet. "And The Grind called. Your order will be ready as usual."
Finally, something reliable.
"Did the Westbrook numbers come in?" I asked.
"They did. Slight dip in quarterly performance."
"Fix it."
"Yes, sir."
The car pulled up outside my penthouse, and for a moment, I looked at the building like it belonged to someone else.
Thousands of square feet. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Temperature controlled, motion censored, utterly silent.
It was perfect. Just like everything else I owned.
And just as hollow.
No voices. No warmth. Just polished wood, smooth marble, and a view of the city that never meant anything.
I didn't stay long. I never did.
I changed. Navy suit, crisp white shirt, no tie. Clean. Sharp. Emotionless.
Elaine followed the moment I re-entered the lobby.
"There's a minor hiccup with Graystone Lisbon," she said. "Legal's stalling the transfer agreement."
"I'll call them after my coffee."
The Grind.
Trendy. Predictable. Well-staffed.
No drama. No mistakes.
I stepped through the glass doors like I always did at 12:02 p.m.
Heads turned. They always did.
I didn't pay attention to anyone except the barista who usually had my cup waiting by the time I reached the counter.
Except she wasn't there.
Instead, a girl with tired eyes and dark curls stood behind the machine, her fingers trembling slightly as she prepped the drink.
She didn't look up.
The order wasn't ready.
The Americano wasn't even poured.
I checked my watch. 12:03.
She moved slower than the others. Fumbled slightly. Clearly distracted.
And then she spoke.
"Sorry. Just a moment."
No apology. No sir. Just those four careless words, said like she didn't have a clue who she was talking to.
I narrowed my eyes. "Is there a reason you're behind schedule?"
She paused.
Her hands stilled.
Then slowly, she turned her head.
Brown eyes. Full lips. Cheeks slightly flushed.
She blinked at me. Once. Twice.
And then she smiled.
Not a real smile. Not polite.
It was the kind of smile that said: Try me.
"I'm sorry," she said sweetly. "Was my slowness interfering with your ability to wait like a normal person?"
I stared at her, stunned.
She didn't flinch.
She looked exhausted, yes. But her voice was steady. Her tone sharp enough to slice through the air between us.
Something about her was familiar. Something in the tilt of her chin. The challenge in her stare.
But I'd never seen her before.
I would have remembered a mouth like that.
"You always speak to customers this way?" I asked coldly.
"Only the special ones."
A flicker of something lit in my chest.
I didn't like it.
I didn't like her.
Or her sarcasm. Or her slowness. Or the way she made the rest of the world blur for half a second.
"I'll speak to your manager," I said.
She handed me the coffee with a mock-cheerful tone. "Oh, please do. And let them know I made it extra bitter just like your personality."
I froze.
For a long moment, we just stared at each other.
She blinked again. Like something had clicked.
And suddenly so did I.
That face. That voice.
I'd seen it before.
A long time ago.
Rain. A funeral. A girl with tear-stained cheeks and her father's hand in hers.
Davis?
John Davis's daughter?
It couldn't be
She turned away before I could speak.
And I stood there, coffee in hands, heart beating once....just once a little too loud.