Chapter 2 The cost of coming back

Amelia's POV

The following morning, the café felt heavier, as though the walls themselves were aware of the looming threat. I forced myself into autopilot, greeting customers with my usual smile and keeping my hands busy with the endless tasks of running Blueberry Café. But inside, I was unraveling.

I hadn't slept all night. Daniel's face, his words, and those documents played on a loop in my mind, nonstop refusing to give me peace. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mark's innocent smile and wondered how I would tell him his home-the café he had grown up in-was at risk.

"Mom, look!" Mark's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned to see him holding up a picture he'd drawn. "It's our café," he explained proudly, pointing to the tiny details-a steaming coffee cup in the window, our names scribbled on the awning.

"That's amazing, sweetheart," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. My throat tightened as I looked at the picture. Mark's little world was built around this place, and I couldn't let it crumble.

The bell jingled, and my heart jumped. For a brief moment, I feared it was Daniel again, but instead, it was Mrs. Edith, one of my regulars. She smiled warmly as she made her way to her usual seat by the window.

"Good morning, dear," she said, her tone as cheerful and bright as ever.

"Morning, Mrs. Edith," I replied, then added in a cheerful tone, "Your usual?"

She nodded as I went to the counter and started pouring her usual cup of chamomile tea.

"Are you alright, Amelia? You look pale," she asked, her sharp eyes scanning my face.

"I'm fine," I lied.

"I know you Amelia, what's wrong? You can talk to me".

I wanted to talk but then I stopped and said with a big fake smile, spreading across my face. "I'm fine, really!"

Her gaze lingered, but she didn't press further. I busied myself with preparing pastries, grateful for the distraction.

As the morning wore on, the usual hustle and bustle of the café did little to ease the tension in my chest. My mind kept drifting back to the documents. The demolition order was stamped with the bold insignia of Carter Enterprises-a company I now knew Daniel was at the helm of.

The thought made my stomach churn. How could he not have known? Was this some cruel coincidence, or was it deliberate? I needed answers, but confronting him again felt like inviting more chaos into my already fragile world.

By the time the café cleared out for the lunch lull, I was no closer to figuring out what to do. I sat at the counter, staring blankly at the stack of receipts in front of me, when the door swung open.

My head snapped up, and my heart sank. Daniel.

This time, he wasn't alone. Two men in suits flanked him, their briefcases and solemn expressions setting off alarm bells in my head.

"What now?" I demanded, standing as he approached the counter.

"We need to talk," Daniel said, his voice calm but firm.

"I told you yesterday, there's nothing to talk about."

One of the men stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Ms. Hayes, I'm Mr. Whitaker, legal counsel for Carter Enterprises. We're here to discuss the terms of the proposed acquisition."

"Acquisition?" I repeated, my voice rising. "This isn't a negotiation! This is my café, my home. You can't just take it!"

Daniel raised a hand to silence Mr. Whitaker, his gaze locked on mine. "Amelia, please. Let me explain."

"I don't want your explanations," I snapped. "I want you to leave."

"Mom?" Mark's small voice cut through the tension.

I turned to see him standing in the doorway to the back room, clutching his drawing. His eyes darted between me and Daniel, confusion written all over his face.

Daniel's expression softened as he looked at Mark. There it was again-that flicker of recognition, the unspoken question I had been dreading.

"Mark, go back to your room," I said quickly, my voice firmer than I intended.

"But, Mom-"

"Now," I insisted, my heart racing.

Mark hesitated before retreating, his little shoulders slumped.

Daniel turned back to me, his face pale. "Amelia...is he-?"

"Don't," I warned, my voice trembling.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. "Is he my son?"

The room seemed to tilt, the weight of his question pressing down on me like a tidal wave. My heart pounded in my chest as I fought to keep my composure.

"You have no right to ask me that," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I have every right," he shot back, his calm demeanor slipping. "If he's mine-"

"He's mine," I interrupted, my voice sharp. "You lost any right to ask that question the day you walked out of my life or have you forgotten?"

Before he could respond, the second man stepped forward, holding out a document. "Ms. Hayes, we need your signature on this to proceed."

I snatched the paper from his hand, my eyes scanning the text. My blood ran cold as I realized what it was-an agreement to vacate the premises within thirty days.

"No," I said firmly, tearing the paper in half. "I'm not signing anything. You can take your lawyers and your demolition plans and get out."

Daniel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Amelia, you're making this harder than it needs to be. I'm trying to take it easy but you're pushing it. You will be rewarded handsomely for it...."

"Harder?" I repeated, my voice rising. "You must really have the nerves to come here and claim the victim".

I walked closer to him then whispered into his ear, "I will not let you take my cafe away from me!"

The door jingled again, and I turned to see Mrs. Edith standing there, her face a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Everything alright, dear?" she asked, her eyes darting between me and Daniel.

I forced a tight smile. "Everything's fine, Mrs. Edith. We're just closing up for the afternoon."

Daniel glanced at her, then back at me. "This isn't over, Amelia."

"No, it isn't," I replied, my voice cold.

He nodded to his lawyers, and they all filed out, leaving the café heavy with the aftermath of their presence.

As the door closed behind them, I sank into a chair, my hands shaking. The fight wasn't over-it was just the beginning and I wasn't sure I had the power and resources to fight him.

But one thing was clear: Daniel Carter wasn't just here to take my café. He was here to unravel my entire life.

Later in the night, I sat on my bed, my hands trembling as I cradled my head. The weight of Daniel's visit pressed down on me, suffocating and relentless. The crumpled document lay on the counter, a cruel reminder of the destruction looming over my café-and my life. But the pain didn't stop there. His sudden reappearance had dragged up memories I thought I'd buried for good.

I closed my eyes, and the past swallowed me whole.

Six years ago, I was on my knees in the kitchen, scrubbing the floor until my hands burned. I can still feel the icy sting of the tiles beneath me and the suffocating weight of Richard's presence looming in the doorway.

"Is this how you show gratitude?" he hissed, his voice cutting through me like a blade. "I work all day, and this is the thanks I get? A filthy house and a useless wife?"

I gripped the sponge tighter, willing myself not to cry. Tears only made it worse. I had learned the hard way that silence was my only defense. Arguing would only provoke him, and the consequences were never worth it.

But it wasn't just Richard's rage that kept me trapped. My mother's voice echoed in my head, just as cruel and dismissive as it had been back then.

"You're lucky he married you, Amelia," she'd said countless times, her tone dripping with disdain. "Do you know how many women would kill for a man like him? Stop being so ungrateful and make it work."

Ungrateful. That's what I was, according to her. A failure who should be grateful for the scraps of love Richard offered me, even when those scraps came wrapped in anger and control.

The café had saved me from all that. It was my escape, my freedom. And now, Daniel was threatening to take it all away.