Chapter 4
I leave Crown Jewel Brew feeling rattled and off-balance. Londyn always did have a way of getting under my skin.
Our conversation replays in my mind on a loop. The wariness in her eyes, the stiffness of her shoulders, the sharp edge to her voice—it”s all painfully familiar. A relic of our past, of the wounds we inflicted on each other that never fully healed.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memories crowding in. Now isn”t the time for that kind of emotional baggage. I”m here on a mission, with bigger stakes than my bruised ego or whatever unresolved tension still simmers between Londyn and me.
Still, my feet carry me across the street without conscious thought. The faded red awning and chipped paint of Maddie”s Country Kitchen beckon, a siren song from my childhood.
I push through the door, the nostalgic scent of burgers and fries instantly transporting me. Not much has changed—the same red-and-white checkerboard floors, vinyl booths with cracked seats, ancient jukebox in the corner blaring out country hit.
I scan the diner, my eyes landing on the jukebox in the corner, its gaudy colors and flashing lights a blast from the past. It”s been years since I”ve seen one of these relics.
”When”s the last time I saw a jukebox?” I wonder aloud.
”Well, I”ll be...” Maddie emerges from the back, all smiles and sparkling eyes as she takes me in. ”If it ain”t little Jermaine Knights, all grown up and handsome as the devil himself.”
Despite my swirling emotions, I smile as the diminutive woman pulls me into a fierce hug. She squeezes with surprising strength for someone her age, her familiar floral perfume filling my senses.
”It”s been too long, sugar.” Maddie leans back, giving me an appraising once-over. ”You want your usual? Cheeseburger with the works, extra pickles, and a strawberry shake?”
I chuckle, amazed she remembers my childhood order after all these years. ”You know me too well, Maddie. That sounds perfect.”
”Coming right up, honey.” She pats my cheek with a calloused hand before shuffling off to put in my order.
I slide into a corner booth, the cracked vinyl creaking beneath me. The view looks out over Main Street, a parade of familiar storefronts marching by and lots of new ones.
Kicks Jack, Suga Suga, Gigi”s, Boone”s, even the old General Store—it”s all still here, like the town is frozen in time.
Except...it”s not, is it?
I don”t know this version of Madison Grove, the new businesses, like Faith”s Boutique, a bookstore, and an entertainment complex.
It has grown up in my absence, evolving with the times while still clinging to its old-world charms.
Warmth blooms in my chest as I drink in the sights and sounds of my hometown. It”s all achingly familiar yet brand new at the same time. Layers of my life stripped away and rebuilt into something fresh and vibrant.
I inhale deeply, catching the ever-present tang of wood smoke mingling with the mouthwatering scents wafting from the kitchen.
For the first time since arriving, I feel the knot of tension between my shoulders begin to unravel. This place, these streets, this _feeling_—it”s like slipping into a cherished old sweater, comforting and reassuring in its familiarity.
But that”s not what I want. I don”t want to feel comfortable. Not here. Not until ruin Winston Westbrook forever.
My fingers itch for my phone, the urge to capture this moment in an image almost overwhelming. To document this strange sense of coming home to a place I”d all but forgotten.
Almost against my will, my gaze drifts to the brewery across the street. Londyn”s place, Crown Jewel. A kernel of my earlier agitation resurfaces, that bitter root of conflict twisting inside me once more.
I slam the brakes on that train of thought, refusing to let it derail me here and now. This moment of peace, this unexpected sanctuary, is too precious to sully with thoughts of my plot.
And the unfinished business still festering after all this time.
Because giving voice to my feelings for Londyn won”t change anything, and I don”t want to pull her into this burning building.
No, there”ll be time enough for that particular reckoning. After I replay Winston for the way he ruined my life.
For now, I need to simply...be.
To exist in the moment, untethered from the past or concerns about the future. Grounded in the sights and scents of a simpler time, when love and friendship and family were everything to me.
My parents, my siblings, and Londyn.
The girl with pigtails and the larger-than-life smile that stole my heart in kindergarten.
A tremor works its way up my arm as a fresh wave of nostalgia washes over me. I remember lazy Sundays at a booth just like this one, Mama and Daddy and all us kids gathered around. Mama would pile her plate with cheesy fries, Daddy would dig into his usual bacon cheeseburger, and we”d all fight over the last few fries.
Simpler times. Happier times, before tragedy and corporate greed ripped it all away from us.
”Here you go, sugar.” Maddie”s smiles at me sliding a platter onto the table.
I blink, inhaling the mouthwatering aromas of the juicy burger dripping with cheese and toppings, the golden fries, the frothy pink shake topped with whipped cream and a cherry.
It looks exactly as I remember, a time capsule of flavors and memories.
”You just let me know if you need anything else, you hear?” Maddie gives my shoulder a maternal pat before bustling off to tend to another customer.
I nod absently, my focus already zeroing in on that first delectable bite. Sinking my teeth into the burger, I can”t contain the low groan of pure bliss that rumbles up from my chest.
It”s perfect—the slightly charred beef patty, the gooey cheese, the crunch of lettuce, pickles, and tomato. The tastes and textures that dance over my tongue elicit a groan from me as each flavor evokes a different cherished moment from my childhood.
For this single, solitary minute, I”m not a high-powered CEO or a man hellbent on vengeance. I”m not consumed by thoughts of Londyn or the competition or my burning need to crush Westbrook Industries.
I”m simply...Jermaine. A guy eating a perfect burger in the same diner where he grew up, the rest of the world fading into blessed silence.
My shoulders loosen infinitesimally as I take another greedy bite. For the first time in forever, that constant knot of tension has dissolved, allowing me to just be.
I take the last bite of the burger before the harsh realities of my world come crashing back in.
As if on cue, the diner door swings open, the cheerful tinkling of bells a stark contrast to the knot of dread that grips my chest.
Winston Westbrook strides in like he owns the place, surveying the humble diner with thinly veiled disdain.
For a heartbeat, our eyes meet across the room. His gaze slides over me with casual indifference before moving on, as if I”m little more than a bug to be crushed underfoot.
Every muscle in my body tenses.
This fucker...
The smug bastard who set my family”s ruin in motion with a single callous decision. The heartless corporate raider who shattered our dreams and left us destitute, all in pursuit of greater profits.
Memories assault me in a rapid-fire onslaught—the night Daddy sat us down to break the news, Mama”s anguished sobs echoing through that empty brewery, our family legacy reduced to scrap and boxes.
All because Winston Westbrook couldn”t be satisfied with his already-obscene wealth and power.
He wanted more.
My jaw clenches as the old wounds reopen, that familiar rage coursing through my veins like lava. I grit my teeth, shoving aside the lingering nostalgia and sense of peace this place had briefly offered.
In that moment, every tender feeling evaporates, replaced by an all-consuming need to see this man suffer for his sins.
To make him pay.
Westbrook makes his way to the counter, exchanging cool pleasantries with Maddie as she busies herself filling his coffee. The very picture of genteel sophistication.
Winston catches my eye once more, those cool gray depths glinting with mocking disdain as he takes an exaggerated sip of coffee. A pointed sneer, as if to remind me of my place in the natural order—a speck of dirt, insignificant and easily crushed.
Fury blazes through me. My fingers curl into fists as I struggle to tamp down the rage threatening to erupt. But he”s in for a rude awakening.
I”m no longer that scared little boy watching helplessly as his family”s legacy crumbled to dust. And Winston Westbrook is about to learn just how powerful a well of pain and fury can be when finally unleashed.
Part of me longs to stride over and wipe that smug sneer off his face. But that would be a hollow, momentary victory. No, this man deserves to suffer a fate far crueler than a simple beating.
He needs to understand what it means to have everything you”ve built, everything you”ve sacrificed for, ripped away without mercy. To feel the cold clutch of despair as your life lies in ashes at your feet.
Only then will he truly comprehend the scale of his transgressions. And by the time I”m through with him, Winston Westbrook will know that bone-deep anguish all too intimately.
The vow steadies me. I lean back and regard Westbrook with an outward calm that belies the storm raging beneath the surface.
He wants to play games, to bask in his perceived superiority? Fine. I”ll play along...for now. But the reckoning is coming.
Jaw set, I push the last crumbs of burger aside and reach for my coffee, my movements slow and controlled. I take a measured sip, allowing the rich, bitter notes to coat my tongue as I hold Winston”s gaze over the rim.
Enjoy these final moments while you can, old man. Your reign of terror is almost over.
A cruel smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I savor the promise of vengeance still to come. This is just the opening salvo, a mere preview of the devastation I”m about to unleash.
My path is clear, my purpose unshakable. The wheels are already in motion, the first delicate strands of my web taking shape around Winston and his empire.
One by one, I”ll sever his lines of power and influence until he”s left defenseless and exposed. And when the killing blow finally lands, I”ll be there to revel in his end.
Just as he did to my family, all those years ago.
The familiar chime of the diner door pulls me from my dark reverie.
In strolls Londyn, a pick-up order in hand, oblivious to my presence as she strides out the door.
She is the only person that gives me pause is her.
For a fleeting instant, I”m gripped by the strangest sense of conflict, of warring priorities pulling me in opposite directions. An ominous whisper that maybe, just maybe, my quest for vengeance could end up causing collateral damage.
I shove the notion aside with a vehement shake of my head. That kind of weakness, that hint of sentimentality, is a liability I can”t afford right now.
Not when I”m so close to achieving everything I”ve worked toward for over a decade.
No, Londyn is better off on the periphery of my life. A tempting distraction, to be sure, but one that pales in comparison to payback.
With grim resolve, I rise and make my way to the register to settle my bill. As I fish in my wallet for cash, the old photograph tucked into the billfold catches my eye—a tattered snapshot of my family from happier times.
Mama and Daddy beaming with pride, with J”Mario, Jalisa, and me crowded around them, the very picture of youthful innocence and joy. Before the betrayal, before the devastation and loss that would redefine the course of all our lives forever.
My thumb traces over the faded image.
I can”t stop now, not when the finish line is finally in sight. Not when the chance to avenge my family”s honor is within reach.
I slip the photo back into my wallet and exit the diner, not looking back.
Plans of love have no place in my future.