Chapter 2

The next morning at 10:00 AM.

I walked into the third-floor shop with two burly movers.

The power was still off.

The air was thick with the sour smell of spoiled dairy.

As I was directing the movers to dismantle the display cases, the sharp click-clack of high heels echoed from the hallway.

"Ugh, what is that disgusting smell?"

A whiny female voice complained at the entrance.

I turned around.

Craig was bowing and scraping behind a woman dressed in a head-to-toe Chanel tweed suit.

She wore oversized sunglasses and clutched a classic Hermès Birkin bag as she looked around my shop with sheer disgust.

"So this is the trashy little shop holding up my lease?"

She slid her sunglasses down, waving a manicured hand in front of her nose.

"This decor is painfully basic. Craig, are you sure this spot has good foot traffic?"

"Oh, absolutely, Ms. Vance! Look," Craig pointed eagerly, "it's right in front of the escalator. Everyone who comes up has to pass by."

Then he pointed a finger at me.

"It was just ruined by this low-class bakery. Once we replace it with your 'StarTea' flagship, it's going to blow this town away."

Ms. Vance—Ashley Vance—cast a sideways glance at me.

She looked me up and down, sneering at my casual jeans and sneakers.

"So you're the squatter who refused to leave?"

I ignored her completely and turned back to the movers.

"Be careful with the espresso machine. Don't scratch the chrome."

Realizing she was being ignored, Ashley's face darkened.

"Hey! I'm talking to you. Are you deaf?"

She marched in, her stilettos clacking sharply on my hardwood floor, leaving deep scuffs in the wood.

"This floor has to be completely ripped out. Utterly tasteless."

She kicked a stack of my unused pastry boxes that hadn’t been packed yet.

"Get your crap out of here. My designers need to measure the space."

I turned slowly to face her.

"My lease has three months left. Technically, this is still my private business property."

"Get out."

Ashley looked like she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. She turned to Craig.

"Craig, did you hear her? She's telling *me* to leave?"

Craig’s face instantly hardened as he stepped between us.

"Natalie, don't test my patience. Ms. Vance taking over this space is a blessing for this mall."

"Didn't you say you were moving today? Why are you still slacking off?"

"Does moving not take time?" I looked at his flashy pinky ring. "Or does Craig here want to carry these heavy ovens himself?"

"Why you—!"

Craig pointed a finger at my face, but Ashley stopped him.

"Forget it, Craig. Why waste your breath on someone from the bottom of the food chain?"

Ashley pulled a business card from her Birkin bag and tossed it onto my counter.

"You look pathetic. I doubt you have anywhere else to go."

"Tell you what, you can apply to be a janitor at my new shop. As a thank-you for clearing out, I’ll start you at fifteen bucks an hour."

She let out a nasty, high-pitched giggle.

"But you’ll definitely need to wash off that cheap, baking-flour smell first."

One of the movers couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey, lady, watch your mouth! Natalie is a great boss and always treats us with respect. Who do you think you are?"

"Oh, look, she brought her little blue-collar bodyguards."

Ashley rolled her eyes.

"A bunch of manual laborers trying to talk back to me."

I stepped in front of the mover before he could push past me.

"It's fine, guys. Keep working. When a dog barks at you, you don't bark back."

Ashley’s face twisted in rage.

"Who are you calling a dog?!"

"Whoever barks first."

I swept her business card directly into the trash can.

"Craig, take your 'VIP guest' and get out of my shop. Otherwise, I’m calling the police for trespassing."

Craig gnashed his teeth, pointing at me.

"Fine. Natalie, keep acting tough. Let’s see how long you last."

He turned back to Ashley with a slimy smile. "Ms. Vance, let’s go to my office for some espresso. We can come back once she's crawled away."

Ashley scoffed and strutted out.

On her way out, she deliberately kicked over my storefront sign.

The heavy board crashed against the glass door with a deafening thud.

"Cheap trash."

Silence returned to the hallway.

The mover sighed. "Natalie, this management is pure evil. Your business was thriving. How can they just kick you out like this?"

"Don't worry about it," I said, looking out the window. "Out with the old, in with the new."

I pulled out my phone and texted Liam.

"How's your progress?"

"All rigs dismantled and loaded. The Monarch crew worked overnight to clear our new space. We can move in tonight."

"Perfect."

I put my phone away and watched my shop slowly being emptied.

On the wall, there was still a framed photo of our grand opening day.

Back then, this floor was practically abandoned. No janitors, no traffic.

Chloe and I had cleaned the place ourselves with rags and buckets.

And now, it was all gone.

By 2:00 PM.

Most of our things were loaded.

I had the movers push our largest commercial oven toward the freight elevator.

But when we pressed the button, the elevator doors wouldn't budge.

A piece of paper was taped to the door:

*Freight elevator under maintenance. Out of service.*

Signed by Mall Management.

I stared at the sign and laughed out loud.

Craig was really trying every petty trick in the book to screw me over.

We were on the third floor. Carrying a five-hundred-pound commercial oven down three flights of stairs was physically impossible.

And it wouldn't fit in the passenger elevator.

I called Craig.

"What's wrong with the freight elevator?"

Craig yawned loudly over the phone.

"Maintenance, sweetie. Didn't you see the sign? Cable wear and tear. For everyone's safety, we had to shut it down."

"When will it be fixed?"

"Hard to say. Maybe three days, maybe two weeks. We have to order parts from out of state."

He lowered his voice, his tone dripping with mockery.

"Natalie, I told you. You can't take that heavy junk with you. Why don't you just leave it here? I'll sell it to Ms. Vance as scrap metal."

"Or... you could come to my office right now, apologize to me and Ms. Vance."

"If I'm in a good mood, maybe the elevator will magically start working again."

I hung up.

I turned to the movers.

"Leave the oven."

The mover blinked in shock. "Leave it? But this is a high-end imported model! It's worth at least ten grand!"

"Leave it. Right here."

I pointed to the exact middle of the hallway, right in front of the empty unit next door.

"Block the entrance."

Though confused, the movers did exactly as I asked.

The massive steel oven sat like a fortress, completely blocking the path to the neighboring store.

I brushed the dust off my hands.

"Let’s go downstairs."