💔 OWNED BY A COLD HEART
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📖 Episode Five – Coffee & Consequences
The streets shimmered under flickering yellow lamps, and the cold wind swept gently over the city like whispers no one wanted to hear.
Liana Rose adjusted the straps of her apron and tied her curly hair into a loose bun as she pushed through the back door of Moonlight Café, the quiet little place that never really slept. It was a hidden corner gem — tucked between an old bookstore and a closed-down cinema — open from dusk till the early hours of morning.
It wasn't much.
But it paid.
And she needed every coin.
She'd gone straight there after school, with a wrapped ankle hidden under her sneakers and a backpack stuffed in the staff locker. Her body was tired, but her soul — that was heavier.
Jayda had teased her earlier, joking about Darren and love triangles, but none of it stayed with her. Only his eyes did.
The man from the car.
She hadn't seen him again. And part of her had convinced herself she never would.
Until tonight.
---
🌑 9:42 PM – SkyeBlack's Shadow
The black Maybach rolled to a stop just outside the café.
No one noticed.
No one ever noticed when he arrived — that was part of the illusion.
Damian stepped out, dressed not in a suit this time, but a fitted black coat over a charcoal turtleneck, expensive yet quiet. There was something about him tonight that felt... colder. The air seemed to recognize him before people did.
His assistant had found the girl.
Name: Liana Rose.
Age: 18.
Student. Works part-time here. No father listed on public records.
He didn't know why that mattered.
He only knew that it did.
---
🌙 Inside the Café
Liana balanced a tray of drinks carefully, weaving through the quiet tables. It wasn't busy tonight — just a few students, a couple on their third cup of tea, and a man in the far corner wearing glasses and typing on a laptop.
The bell above the door rang softly.
She didn't look up.
Until the cold air followed him in.
He walked in like a shadow falling across the floor. Smooth. Intentional.
Every eye lifted.
Every breath paused.
She didn't have to turn fully to know who it was.
Him.
Her chest tightened.
Her hands didn't shake, but her breath caught without permission.
He walked to the farthest corner, to the table under the hanging lamp, away from the crowd. Of course.
She pretended not to notice. Tried to keep her rhythm.
But the tray in her hand felt a little heavier.
"Can you handle Table 9?" her manager asked, glancing toward him. "The man in black."
Liana nodded. "Sure."
She grabbed a clean mug. Filled it with fresh coffee. Steamed milk. Sugar on the side. Hands steady. Face blank.
But inside?
Storm.
---
☕ The Spill
"Good evening," she said quietly, placing the cup down.
He didn't look up at first.
Then, slowly — deliberately — his eyes lifted.
Gray. Icy. Intense.
Their eyes locked.
Liana's hand twitched.
And the tray in her other hand shifted slightly.
Before she could react, the edge of the coffee cup tilted, slipping, sliding—
Splash.
Hot liquid spilled across his black coat.
"Oh my God—I'm so—" she gasped, grabbing napkins, mortified.
He stood — not jerking back, not cursing — just rising, tall and unbothered, like the heat didn't even touch him.
Liana was red-faced. "Sir, I'm so sorry, please—I'll clean it—"
She reached toward him, trying to dab the coat gently.
His hand caught her wrist.
Not hard.
Not soft either.
"Don't," he said quietly.
Her eyes met his again. And this time, closer, she saw something under the surface.
Not anger.
Not disgust.
But recognition.
Like he remembered her too.
"You," he said, low. "You're the girl."
Her lips parted. "What?"
"The one who fell," he said. "Outside the building. A few days ago."
She froze.
"You remembered?" she whispered.
"I don't forget faces," he said. "Especially ones that haunt me."
Her throat tightened.
Damian released her wrist slowly, the napkin slipping from her fingers.
She stepped back. "I'm really sorry about the spill. I didn't mean—"
"I know," he interrupted. His voice softened — just a fraction.
He reached into his coat, pulled out a sleek black card, and placed it on the table.
"Tell your boss to send the cleaning bill to this address."
She looked down. The card bore no logo — just his name:
Damian Voss.
Liana blinked. "You're… Damian?"
He raised a brow slightly. "That name means something to you?"
She shook her head too quickly. "No. I mean— I just didn't know it."
Damian's lips curved — the ghost of a smirk. "Now you do."
He turned, walking out, the doorbell tinkling faintly as he vanished into the night once more.
Liana stood there, coffee-stained napkins still in hand, her heart rattling against her ribs.
He knew her.
And worse—
He'd seen her.
---
The warmth had barely faded from the door's final chime when her boss's voice sliced through the café.
"Liana!"
She flinched.
He was already walking toward her, wiping his hands on a towel, his face stiff with that tight, forced smile that always preceded a lecture.
The other barista behind the counter looked away awkwardly.
Liana turned, guilt written across her face. "I'm really sorry, sir—"
"Sorry?" he cut in, voice low but sharp. "Do you know who that was?"
She swallowed. "I… do now."
"Damian Voss," he whispered, then glanced around and lowered his tone. "He could buy this entire building and knock it down just for fun."
"I didn't mean to spill it. My hand just—he startled me."
The manager huffed and rubbed his temple. "Liana, we can't afford clumsy mistakes with people like that. You should've been focused."
Her face flushed. She hated being talked down to — but more than that, she hated that he was right. She had frozen. Her chest had gone tight the second she saw Damian's eyes again.
"I'll pay for the dry cleaning," she said quietly, reaching for her apron strings. "Or—if you want—I can leave."
Her boss blinked. "What? No. No one's asking you to leave. Look…"
He sighed, his voice softening.
"You're one of my best workers. Just… don't let whatever's going on in your head mess with your hands, okay?"
Liana nodded, her eyes flicking toward the door Damian had just walked out of.
"Was he angry?" her boss asked curiously.
She shook her head. "No. Just… calm. Too calm."
Her boss laughed nervously. "Well, let's pray he doesn't send lawyers in the morning."
She didn't answer.
Because she wasn't thinking about lawyers.
She was thinking about how he had grabbed her wrist. How he remembered her. How, for a second, it felt like something ancient flickered between them — something she couldn't name.
And she was starting to wonder:
Why her?
Why did Damian Voss, the coldest man in the city, care enough to remember a girl he nearly ran over?
---
Later That Night
Liana clocked out an hour later, walking home beneath streetlights and stars, Damian's card still burning a hole in her pocket.
She hadn't told her boss she kept it.
She didn't know why she had.
But somehow… it felt like the first page of something dangerous.
And beautiful.
And wrong.
🌞The next morning 🌞 🌄
The sunlight broke gently through the torn curtain, casting dappled gold across Liana's bedroom walls. It should've been a peaceful morning… but inside her, it wasn't.
She stared at her uniform draped on the back of the chair, still smelling faintly of coffee and nerves.
The black card sat next to her pillow — untouched since last night. She hadn't told anyone about it. Not even Jayda.
Down the hall, the sound of pots and the faint scrape of slippers meant her mom was already up.
Liana got up, grabbed a sweater, and tiptoed into the kitchen.
Her mother turned, already stirring porridge.
"You didn't sleep well," Selina said without looking at her.
"I'm fine."
"That's not what your eyes say."
Liana dropped onto a chair and rubbed her temples.
"I… messed up at work."
Selina finally looked at her. "Did they fire you?"
"No. But I spilled coffee. On a customer. A very important-looking one."
Her mother chuckled lightly. "If you haven't been fired, it means they know accidents happen."
"Hmm." Liana didn't respond.
Selina watched her daughter quietly for a moment.
Then said softly, "Your father used to panic over little things, too. You got that from him."
Liana's hand froze on the table. "Why do you always talk about him like he was someone you lost… not someone who left us?"
Selina's breath caught. She didn't answer.
She turned back to the pot. "Eat something. You have school."
But the silence after that felt heavier than any lecture.
---
🏡 Meanwhile... on the Easton Estate
A sleek, white Rolls Royce pulled up in front of a modern mansion nestled between rows of manicured lawns and glass-paneled walls. The Easton family always made an entrance — and this morning, Celeste Easton was on a mission.
Hair flawlessly pinned. Nude heels clicking as she stepped out. Her designer coat was more expensive than some people's rent. She looked like confidence carved into marble.
Inside the Voss estate, Vanessa Voss waited, seated on a velvet armchair surrounded by classical sculptures and quiet elegance.
When Celeste walked in, Vanessa's eyes lit up.
"Oh, darling… Celeste. You've grown into your mother's beauty."
Celeste smiled politely and leaned in for a kiss on both cheeks.
"It's been a while, Mrs. Voss."
"Vanessa, please. You make me feel like I've aged."
Celeste laughed charmingly. "I hope not — you look even more graceful than I remember."
Vanessa gave a soft laugh and gestured for her to sit. "So, what brings the Easton princess all the way to my little corner of the city?"
Celeste crossed her legs slowly. "Well… my father said he and Damian spoke recently. And I just thought… it's been far too long since our families had a proper visit."
Vanessa tilted her head. "I heard about that meeting. Silas always did have a talent for matchmaking."
"And I'm not against it," Celeste said, her voice sweet like syrup. "Damian is… intriguing."
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "Not an easy man."
"I don't like easy," Celeste replied, eyes twinkling.
That made Vanessa smile.
"Well, I must admit, I'd be thrilled to see someone like you beside him. You have poise. Presence. Your mother raised you well."
Celeste's smile deepened. "She always admired you."
Vanessa sipped her tea, eyes thoughtful.
"Well… I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have dinner one evening. Just a casual one. I'll speak to Damian."
Celeste's heart leapt — but her face stayed composed.
"Only if it's no trouble."
"Oh, darling," Vanessa said, setting her cup down, "I love a little trouble."
They both laughed — two women cloaked in silk and secrets, sipping on tea brewed with ambition.
---
📚 Back at School…
Liana moved slower than usual. Her bag was heavier. Her thoughts, even more so.
Jayda practically ambushed her at the gate.
"Tell me you didn't get fired."
"I didn't."
"Then why do you look like you saw a ghost?"
Liana shrugged. "Because I might have."
Jayda narrowed her eyes. "Liana Rose… what aren't you telling me?"
But before Liana could answer, the school bell rang.
She looked over her shoulder — toward nothing.
Just the quiet, growing ache of something shifting in the air.
.
.
.TBC
For those of you who don't know, Vanessa is Damian's mother 💜
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