Chapter 4 Lila #2
My chest tightens. He thinks money can fix this. Like a payout makes up for years of blood, sweat, and sacrifice. Like you can put a price tag on a legacy.
“Fair market price?” I repeat, forcing my voice to stay even. “Who decides what’s fair? A corporate valuation team with no ties to this town? Numbers on a spreadsheet that don’t account for history, for loyalty, for the community that depends on these businesses?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he doesn’t take the bait. “Compensation ensures that no one walks away with nothing.”
Clara scoffs. “We don’t want to walk away at all.”
Ben exhales slowly, like he’s explaining something obvious to a stubborn child. “I respect what you’ve built here, but progress requires movement. No one is being forced out without options.”
This isn’t about options. It’s about erasure.
Thomas exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You think throwing money at us makes it better? You really have been gone too long, Ben.”
“I don’t expect everyone to be happy with change. But this project isn’t about pushing people out, it’s about growth. The town benefits in the long run.”
I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head.
“Growth for who? Certainly not the businesses you’re displacing.
Not the families who rely on them.” I lean forward, my hands pressing against the cool surface of the table.
“Tell me Mr. Ashcroft, why Silverbeck? There are plenty of other areas nearby that are better suited for large-scale developments. So why here?”
He remains perfectly neutral. “Because Silverbeck presents the best opportunity.”
“For your investors,” I correct. “Not for the people who live here.”
His jaw tightens slightly, a flicker of something behind his eyes, annoyance? Amusement?
“There are factors at play that go beyond sentiment,” he replies smoothly. “Infrastructure, accessibility, projected returns. This location made the most sense.”
I tilt my head, studying him. “You expect us to just… accept that? To sit back while you wipe out the businesses that make this town what it is?”
He exhales, slow and measured. “I expect you to understand that change is inevitable and that no one here is being left without options.”
“Options?” Paul, the hardware store owner, scoffs. “Being bought out isn’t an option. It’s a last resort.”
Clara folds her arms. “A fair market price doesn’t replace thirty years of building relationships, of customers who trust us, of livelihoods passed down through generations.”
Ben doesn’t flinch. “It ensures stability. A fresh start. An opportunity to reinvest elsewhere.”
A fresh start. Like the one he gave himself when he left this town behind.
I inhale sharply, forcing my voice to stay steady. “What about the people who can’t just pick up and start over? The ones who have nowhere else to go? Who built their entire lives here, only to have it taken from them in the name of ‘growth’?”
His gaze darkens, the faintest flicker of something beneath the surface—hesitation? Regret? But then it’s gone, smoothed over with that infuriating corporate calm.
The cafe falls silent again, the weight of my words hanging between us.
His gaze sharpens, a flicker of something darker flashing in his eyes. He opens his mouth to respond, but Thomas cuts in.
“You’ve got all the power here,” Thomas says, his tone gruff but steady. “We get that. But power doesn’t mean you can’t do the right thing.”
Ben pauses, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, before leaning back in his chair once more. Ben’s fingers drum once against the table, his expression unreadable. The weight of the room presses in, thick with tension. He exhales, slow and deliberate, then reaches down beside him.
A sleek black briefcase clicks open.
I watch as he methodically pulls out a neat stack of envelopes. Each one thick, heavy, the kind of thing that carries finality inside.
My stomach tightens. What now?
“I understand emotions are running high,” Ben says smoothly, completely composed once again. “But I’m not here to debate sentiment.”
He places a stack of envelopes onto the table.
“These contain further details on the development,” Ben continues. “Along with individual offers for each business owner affected. You’ll find that they are…” He pauses, just long enough for it to feel intentional. “…generous. More than fair market value.”
A hush settles over the room. The rustling of envelopes being picked up, the hesitant glances exchanged.
I don’t look away from him. I won’t.
“This isn’t a negotiation,” I say flatly.
He tilts his head, as if considering. “It’s a choice.”
I scoff. Bullshit.
Ben rises from his chair, buttoning his suit jacket with a practiced, effortless motion. He’s already decided he’s done here.
“I won’t pressure anyone,” he says, his voice smooth, measured. “You have time to consider your options.”
Options. As if there really are any.
He adjusts his cufflinks, casting a brief, sweeping glance across the room. No urgency. No concern. Just cool, calculated detachment.
I grip the edges of the envelope in front of me, but I don’t open it.
“What’s the deadline?” Paul asks, his voice rough.
Ben turns slightly, his gaze flicking to him. “Ten days.”
A murmur ripples through the group. Ten days? That’s nothing.
Thomas exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You really are your father’s son.”
A sharp silence follows.
Something flashes in Ben’s eyes. Something dangerous.
For a second, just a second, his mask nearly slips. But then, he exhales through his nose, tightens his jaw, and chooses not to react.
“I’ll take everything under advisement,” he says finally, his tone measured but distant. “I trust you’ll make the right decision.” His eyes lingering on me a fraction too long. “Until next time, Ms Ng.”
He turns, not waiting for an answer. Not lingering. Just walking away.
The door swings shut behind him.
The silence he leaves behind is almost suffocating.
He’s gone. But the damage isn’t.
The business owners linger for a while, murmuring amongst themselves, the weight of Ben’s bombshell still pressing down on the room. No one opens their envelopes. Not yet. Not here.
Thomas grumbles under his breath, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Damn shame,” he mutters. “He was always a sweet kid.”
A few people nod in agreement, but no one knows what else to say. Eventually, one by one, they start to leave, clutching their envelopes like they weigh a ton. I don’t breathe properly until the door clicks shut behind the last one.
Finally, it’s just me and my friends.
I grip the edge of the table, trying to steady my breathing, my heart still racing.
Olivia’s voice cuts through the quiet.
“What. The. Hell. Was that?”
“Yeah,” Sophie adds, eyes wide. “Do you know him?”
I hesitate, my pulse kicking up again. Do I tell them the truth?
I glance at the door, half expecting him to walk back in. No. Not yet.
I force a laugh, shaking my head. “No. Of course not. He’s just… intense.”
Sophie narrows her eyes.
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly, grabbing the stack of papers and pretending to organize them. “It’s just business.”
I grab the stack of papers, straightening them with trembling hands. Keep moving. Keep it together.
My vision blurs. My pulse pounds. I need out. Now.
“Excuse me,” I force a small smile and gesture toward the back. “I just need a minute.”
I barely wait for their response before heading toward the bathroom, my steps brisk and my heart hammering against my ribs.
The second the door clicks shut behind me, I grip the edge of the sink, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The floodgates open.
He’s really here.
My mind spirals, my worst fears unravelling in front of me.
He hates me and now he’s come back to destroy what’s left of my life—my mum’s business, the cafe, everything we’ve worked so hard to build.
I grip the sink, blinking fast. Not now.
Not here. But the hurt crashes in anyway.
Get it together, Lila. You can fall apart later, when you’re home, alone, and safe from questions you can’t answer.
I take a deep breath and splash cold water on my face, the chill jolting me back to reality. I glance in the mirror, brushing away the stray tears that cling stubbornly to my lashes. My eyes are red-rimmed, my cheeks flushed, but I’m calmer now. Composed.
Almost.
I fix my ponytail, straighten my blazer, and take one last breath before stepping back into the cafe. Everything’s fine. No one needs to know.
But the second I walk out, Willow and Sophie are waiting for me, their eyes filled with concern.
“You okay?” Willow asks softly, her gaze scanning my face.
“Yeah,” I say too quickly, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. “I’m fine. It’s just… stress. You know how it is.”
“Lila,” Sophie says, stepping closer and placing a hand on my arm. “You don’t have to pretend with us. Whatever is going on, we’re here.”
For a moment, I consider telling them everything. The truth about Ben, but the words stick in my throat. Not now. Not yet.
Instead, I nod and take a breath. “Thanks. I just needed a minute to regroup.”
Sophie smiles gently. “Take all the time you need. We’ve got your back.”
Olivia nods. “Always.”
Their support should make me feel lighter, but the knot in my chest only tightens. Because I know this isn’t over. Not even close.