Elliot opened his clipboard and added a note.
“With today’s submission reference, we can link the activity to a person, not just a network,” he said, “especially with CCTV and the physical presence at the counter.”
Officer Ramirez knocked once, then opened the office door a crack.
“They’re outside,” she said. “They’re arguing on the sidewalk.”
I nodded.
“Let them,” I said calmly.
Because in my world, arguing isn’t power. Paper is. I walked out from behind the counter and faced the room again. My customers had gone quiet the way people do when they know they just witnessed something they’ll talk about later. I didn’t make a speech. I kept it simple.
“Sorry about that,” I said to the room, voice steady. “Drinks are on track. Nena will take care of you.”
Nena, my barista, met my eyes and nodded. She didn’t look scared. She looked proud. She’d seen enough of my father’s type to understand what I just did. Then I stepped outside. My father was pacing near the curb like he wanted to keep performing even without an audience. My mother stood stiff, face tight. Laya was crying quietly, phone clutched like it was her lifeline. Officer Ramirez held her notebook and spoke to my father in a tone that didn’t invite negotiation.
“You’ve been trespassed,” she said. “Leave the area.”
My father’s eyes burned.
“This is insane,” he snapped. “She stole from us. She owes us.”
“You gave me four years of silence,” I said calmly.
He spun toward me.
“And we gave you your start,” he barked. “We paid for your first equipment.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t correct the lies with emotion. I pulled one small folder from my coat, thin, plain, not dramatic, and held it up.
“Officer Ramirez,” I said, “I’d like to file a report for attempted extortion and attempted fraudulent business filing. I also want the officers’ body cam preserved. The cameras inside capture the counter area and the filing attempt moment.”
Ramirez nodded.
“We’ll document,” she said.
My father’s jaw clenched.
“You’re really doing this,” he hissed.
“Yes,” I replied.
He stepped closer, voice low, trying for intimidation one last time.
“You think you can ruin me with paperwork,” he said. “I can ruin you with one call. I know people.”
Officer Chen stepped between us automatically.
“Back up,” he said.
My father’s eyes flicked to Chen’s badge, and his posture adjusted slightly because bullies always recalibrate when the room stops being theirs. My mother finally spoke, voice sharp and cold.
“You’re going to regret this,” she said. “You’ll be alone again. Nobody will want you.”
For complete cooking times, go to the next page or click the Open button (>), and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
