Chapter 8
809words
The cruelty of it steals my breath. While Lucas was drugging me to prevent pregnancy, knowing how desperately I wanted children, he was creating a family with my stepsister.
"Congratulations," I say flatly, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Now get out of my coffee shop!"
"Actually," Lucas says, his tone shifting to something businesslike, "we need to discuss something important. The business."
A cold dread settles in my stomach. "What about it?"
"I own fifty percent of Moonbrew, Sienna. You know that."
It's true. In the early days, when I was struggling to get the shop off the ground, Lucas had invested a significant amount. I'd been so grateful then, viewing it as a sign of his support and belief in me. Now I see it for what it was—a way to control me.
"What do you want?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"I need to sell my share," he says. "With the wedding and baby coming, we need the capital."
Of course. He wants to cash out to support his new family with Vanessa. The family I'll never have.
"I don't have that kind of money," I admit. Every cent of profit has gone back into the business or toward the mortgage on our—my—apartment.
"Then find it," Vanessa interjects. "Or we'll find another buyer."
"You can't sell to just anyone," I argue. "The operating agreement—"
"Actually, he can," Vanessa interrupts, her smile venomous. "I had Daddy review the paperwork. Lucas can sell to whoever he wants."
My father, Richard Rivera. Of course he's involved in this too. My father has never approved of me, and I hate him as well since my mother died.
"We need $500,000 by the end of the month," Lucas states. "For our wedding."
"That's extortion! The business isn't even worth that much!"
"It is to the right buyer," Lucas counters coldly.
Something doesn't add up. Lucas comes from wealth—five hundred thousand dollars is not a big deal to the Grants. As I study his smug expression, the truth hits me: this isn't about money at all. He wants to take away the one thing that's truly mine. And Vanessa, always competitive, is egging him on, delighting in my pain. They know I can't raise that amount in a month. They want to see me fail.
Mia steps forward, her face flushed with anger. "You can't do this. It's unethical!"
"Business isn't about ethics," Vanessa says dismissively. "It's about winning."
I stare at Lucas, the man I once loved, my voice ice-cold. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you? Watching me suffer?"
Vanessa steps closer, whispers to me as her perfect features twist with malice. "Because you've always had everything handed to you, Sienna. The perfect daughter. The creative one. While I was just the pretty face, the shallow one."
"That's not true—"
"It is!" she hisses. "Everyone has always compared me to you. Well, now I have what you've always wanted—a family. And soon, I'll have this place too."
She pulls an envelope from her purse and slides it across the counter. "We also want you to come to our wedding. As my maid of honor."
I stare at the invitation in disbelief. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, I am," Vanessa smiles coldly. "Daddy insists. Family appearances and all that. Plus, I want everyone to see how graciously I've won."
"Get out! Both of you. Now."
"One month, Sienna," Lucas says, "Five hundred thousand dollars, or I sell to the highest bidder."
They leave, the bell chiming with false cheerfulness behind them.
The moment they're gone, my legs give out. I sink to the floor behind the counter, shaking uncontrollably. Mia kneels beside me, her arm around my shoulders.
"He can't do this," she insists. "We'll fight it. We'll get a lawyer."
But we both know the truth. The operating agreement is ironclad. Lucas can sell his share, and I don't have the money to buy him out.
"I'll lose everything," I whisper. "My shop. My dreams of a family. Everything."
Mia squeezes my shoulder. "Not everything. You still have me. And we'll figure this out."
She hesitates, then adds, "I have some savings—about ten thousand. It's not much, but it's a start. I can lend it to you."
I look up at her, deeply touched but already shaking my head. "I can't take that, Mia. You have your son, and your mom's medical bills." Mia is a single mother to a six-year-old son, and her mother has been battling illness for years. Her savings are her safety net, not something to throw into my sinking ship.
"But Moonbrew is your life," she protests, her eyes reflecting genuine concern.
"And you have your life to protect," I counter, squeezing her hand. "I'll find another way. I have to."
But how? Where does someone find half a million dollars in a month?
