THE NEXT DAY RISE AND DINE CAFE
The cafe was a blur of humanity, more populated than expected. Customers filed out, each cup of hot coffee a brief warmth against the morning chill. Meghan felt a bitter knot tightening in her stomach. Everything was a weight: her father's disapproval of her haircut and constant arguments about her dress code; the recent fallout between him, his boss, and the woman named Brenda; and the school, which was actively trying to coerce her. They offered one hundred thousand to deliberately fail the Decathlon and relinquish her top student position to Brenda.
She was so lost in the static of her own fury that she didn't realize she had been filling the same spot for over forty-five minutes, staring blankly ahead, until the porcelain cup overflowed. "Shit!" she hissed, snapping back to the present. She furiously drained the water and turned to the bewildered young couple—a brunette boy and a blonde girl—asking for their order.
"Did you not hear us, or are you just not only foolish but deaf?" the girl sneered, her voice thick with impatience.
Rage flared in Meghan, but Tobi, ever the lifesaver, rushed in, gently pulling her aside. He flashed the couple a warm, apologetic smile. "Please don't worry about the mistake. This one's on me—my offering to you. Just forget about it."
The blonde girl scrutinized Tobi, then Meghan, from head to toe. "Does this store really hire crazy-looking people like him? That Band-Aid on her nose and chin? It's going to bring trouble here."
Seething, Meghan did not reply. She stalked off, pushing earbuds into her ears and grabbing the delivery box. The girl's taunts faded as she mounted the store's bike and rode away, leaving the cafe and its rude clientele behind.
The cool breeze was a relief, washing over her face. Despite her baggy clothes, the gentle touch on her skin brought a fleeting moment of ease.
ECOLAND ESTATE
She arrived at a massive estate gate. The guards quickly searched her and, finding nothing, still proceeded to call her a troublemaker and a criminal. This familiar, cold, and inhuman reaction from people was now just white noise. Everyone had something to say, and it was never good or honest. Ignoring their taunts, she simply asked if she could leave.
Finally, the guards, finished with their fun, let her in. She entered the world beyond the gate: Eco Land Estate, rumored to be one of the largest and most luxurious in the world, with endless greenery, entertainment districts, large markets, and the residences of celebrities. Though she had once been wealthy, Eco Land felt like a dream. Her father's commitment to an honest, minimalist lifestyle had kept them out even when they had the means.
Now reduced to the laps of poverty, she had no time to fantasize. She made a sharp turn down a side street only to be slammed by a Bentley.
The bike skidded and flung to the side. Pain shot through her body, but she scrambled up, ignoring the ache. Her first priority was the delivery: a specialty coffee valued at around £2,000. The contents of the sealed bag were safe, but her bike—and her temper—were not.
She rushed toward the Bentley, which was attempting to roll away. The driver accelerated, but Meghan, a sprint queen, darted in front of the hood, blocking its escape. She hammered her fist on the metal, gesturing through the windshield for the driver to get out and face the damage he'd caused.
Inside, Uriel, the driver, was instantly enraged. How dare some nobody block him? Instead of getting out, he resorted to the total jerk he was, flinging a wad of cash out the window.
Meghan didn't budge. She ignored the money on the ground. Every ounce of pent-up anger and frustration she had endured that day—the cafe, the school, the guards, her father—was now bubbling over. She hit the car harder, demanding his attention.
The car door opened. "Are you insane?" Uriel demanded, stalking toward her. He was dressed in a pristine white turtleneck, a gold chain, cream pants, Hermes slippers, and a Rolex. "What's your fucking problem, loser? Who let you in?"
She looked him up and down. "You are the one who must be mad," she barked back. "Do you have any idea what you've done? And instead of apologizing, you come out here to scream? You must have lost all your senses."
He smirked wickedly, his pale face flushing red. "You want money? Fine!" He walked back to his car, ignoring the cash already on the ground, and pulled out three more thick wads, tossing them at her feet. "Here it is. Now get the fuck out of the way. I can't stand your stench! Honestly, which security guard let you in?"
Meghan held the money, glancing at it with utter disgust. Uriel saw her momentary silence and felt he had won. "Yes, take the money and run along. That's what you people are good at: stopping rich folks and begging for cash."
She slapped him hard. The sound echoed in the street.
"You fool!" she spat, throwing the wads back into his face. "Let me warn you: I'm not here for your money, asshole! Get your fucking eyes checked and look at the destruction you caused, or I'll get one for you and actually pay."
Uriel's cheek burned. He had never been slapped or insulted in his entire life. Her words were a stinging revelation. He lifted his hand to strike back, momentarily mistaking her for a guy, but she was faster. She hit his knees, sending him crashing to the pavement.
She crouched, gripping his chin, forcing his green eyes to meet hers. Their noses were inches apart. "I'm warning you," she whispered, her voice dangerously low. "Don't go around misbehaving with that nonsense attitude of yours."
She shoved him aside, stood, and calmly strapped the delivery bag to the bent frame of her bike before riding away, leaving Uriel dumbfounded in the street.
Uriel stayed frozen, processing the humiliation. He had just been taught a harsh lesson by a nobody, a criminal, a guy like himself. "Shit! Asshole!" he cursed, finally scrambling to his feet. "Get your acts together, Uriel. You're a Jefferson, and we don't get humiliated. I'll find you, and when I do, I'm going to destroy every bit of your life."