Morning sunlight spilled through the café windows, painting golden streaks across the wooden counter. Luiz stood behind it, wearing a faded apron two sizes too big and trying to remember the difference between a cappuccino and a latte.
Clara laughed softly from the register. "You don't pour the milk first, genius."
He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Hey, I'm learning. You didn't tell me this job came with an exam."
"It's not an exam," she teased, reaching over to fix his cup. "It's art."
For a moment, things felt almost normal — laughter, sunlight, the smell of coffee beans. The kind of quiet life Luiz never thought he'd have again.
He worked long shifts — cleaning tables, running errands, unloading sacks of beans from the supply trucks. The pay wasn't much, but he didn't care. He had food, a bed in the café's small storage room, and silence.
No guards.No orders.No grandmother's shadow looming over him.
Or so he thought.
Late one evening, Clara handed him a stack of invoices. "Can you drop these at the supplier's office before closing? It's just down the street."
"Sure," he said, wiping his hands on his apron.
The streets were quieter now, lit only by flickering lamps and neon signs from bars still open. The supplier's office sat near the end of the block — small, dimly lit, with the faint smell of cigarettes clinging to the air.
Luiz pushed the door open. "Delivery from Café Liora."
A man behind the desk looked up, his expression unreadable. "Leave them there."
Luiz set the papers down. As he turned to leave, something caught his eye — a crate by the corner, marked with a familiar crest burned into the wood.
The Valentine crest.
His chest tightened.
"What's that?" he asked before he could stop himself.
The man's gaze sharpened. "Nothing that concerns you, kid. You work for the café, right? Then stay in your lane."
Luiz forced a nod, stepping back slowly. "Yeah. Sorry."
He left quickly, but his mind wouldn't quiet. The crest wasn't just a coincidence. The same symbol had been stamped across countless shipments he'd seen years ago — the same mark used in the family's wine trade.
He stopped under a streetlight, staring down at his trembling hands.They'd found him.Or maybe they'd never stopped watching.
Back at the café, Clara was cleaning up. "You okay? You look like you saw a ghost."
Luiz hesitated, forcing a faint smile. "Just tired. Long walk."
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Get some rest. You've been pushing too hard."
He nodded, slipping into the back room. The small bed creaked as he sat down, staring at the moonlight spilling across the floorboards.
He wanted to believe this was just coincidence — that the café, Clara, and this city were far from his family's reach. But deep down, he knew better.
The Valentines didn't let go.
As he lay back, exhaustion pulling at his body, a distant rumble of thunder echoed outside — faint, but enough to make his chest tighten.
It sounded just like the storms back on the island.
And somewhere, hidden behind the calm, he could almost hear her voice again.
"Let him work… for now."
Luiz closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come easily. The world might have looked normal — coffee, laughter, routine — yet beneath it, the storm was already gathering.