18. Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Lina
My team’s eyes are locked on me, waiting in anticipation for me to tell them the remaining part of the story.
“Alex showed up. The one you guys all call Mr. M.”
Val stills. “Alex…wait…you mean the hot guy that comes into the shop?”
“Yes…” I respond, a smile creeping onto my face, remembering how she and the other girls described Alex.
“The tall one?” Kay asks, excitement practically vibrating off her. “The mysterious one who drinks quad espressos in the evening like it’s a personality trait? The one I tricked you into talking to?”
“Yes,” I sigh. “That’s the one—wait. Quad espressos? Jesus.”
Kay clasps her hands with glee.
“Yes. The tall, hot one. And yes, the one you conspired to make me talk to.”
“How?” Donna asks. “People online have video of a guy talking to the police. I wasn’t sure who it was. But the way he stands there—arms folded—in sweats. My…my...,“ Donna says, daydreaming.
“Focus, Donna,” I say.
“He heard me screaming while he was on a late-night run,” I explain. “He intervened. Pulled Cole off me—well,” I pause, “more like picked him up and threw him off me. Then he called the police and made sure I got home safely.”
Val stares at me, her mouth gaping open. “He threw him?”
“Yeah. Hard to explain,” I say, remembering how one second Cole had a hold of my hair and then he was gone.
“How big is this dude? I’ve only seen him sitting.” Val is intrigued now.
I huff a weak laugh despite myself. “Big enough.”
Joey whistles under his breath as he rests against the counter, shaking his head. “Remind me never to piss him off.”
Kay nods solemnly. “I would simply pass away.”
Donna mutters, “That’s insane timing.” Her eyes narrow, clearly suspicious of anyone claiming the timing is a coincidence.
“It was,” I agree. “I don’t like thinking about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there.”
Val’s hands curl into fists. “I knew he was calling and texting you, but I didn’t think he would be this stupid,” she says, voice shaking now. “Showing up. Drunk. Trying to what? Get you to take him back? Seriously? Fucking psycho!”
Val paces now, struggling to wrap her head around the idea of Cole.
“I know. He’s engaged, has a baby on the way, and still…he tries to get me to take him back,” I add.
Their heads snap up. “Excuse me? Engaged?” Kay asks with shocked horror.
“To Cassie,” I nod. “She’s someone my ex was cheating on me with at the end of our marriage.”
The room collectively inhales.
Val lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh yes. The fucking slut who was dating Cole’s nephew at the time they were cheating together. The one who had Cole’s nephew’s children and is now having his baby. That fucking Jerry Springer hoe-bag.” Val growls.
“Yeah…,” I draw out, the word hollow in my mouth.
“We actually ran into that bitch yesterday. Had she not been pregnant, Lina would have fucked her up.” She smiles wickedly at the idea.
“Ummm no. I would have ended up in prison for assault. Remember, she’s known for false imprisonment. Although, I guess me beating her ass wouldn’t be false imprisonment.” I blink at the truth of the idea.
“This sounds like a reality TV show.” Says Donna.
It is reality. My reality.
“Cassie is the same bitch,“ Val continues, her voice filled with fury, “who helped get Cole wasted the night of Lina’s accident. Likely because the cheating scandal was about to blow back on both of them.” Val mumbles something in Spanish, familiar curse words.
I nod, the pieces falling into place one by one until the truth leaves me sick. Cole, Cassie, the drama of it all goes further back than they know.
“I mean, it never took much for Cole to get drunk,” I say. “The drugs I never knew about probably didn’t help. Could they have contributed to how out of control he became? Absolutely.”
I force myself to let the thought go. The toxicology report from the night of the accident still finds a way to creep back when I least expect it.
The sheer amount of drugs in his system had been shocking.
Disturbing. Proof that the man I spent eighteen years with had been hiding far more than I ever realized.
I was strategically kept na?ve about everything. Not only by Cole, but by her. Cassie.
Smiles and false loyalty. All of it was camouflage. Cassie was an opportunistic predator hiding in plain sight.
The silence this time is heavier.
Donna crosses her arms, fury bellowing out from her. “That man should be in jail.”
Val turns away, pressing her palms to the counter as if needing a firm support. When she faces me again, her expression is lethal.
“Yeah, he should have gone to jail a long time ago,” she says.
“And if karma is real, it owes Cole’s nephew Steven a serious debt—for Cole and Cassie locking Steven up so they could keep screwing each other without consequence.
” Val continues, enraged. “If karma ever planned to show up, now would be the fucking time for that prick!”
I nod in agreement. I can understand her anger. What happened last night was part of a much larger sequence of events that brought us to this point.
“Ummm…what do you mean? You mentioned false imprisonment. Is that related?” Kay asks, clearly confused.
“Yeah…I didn’t know any of this back then,” I say. “I didn’t find out about the lies and secrets until after the divorce.”
That gets their attention. So I brace myself for the backstory I’m about to tell them. The kind of story that sounds impossible until you’re living it.
“Steven, Cole’s nephew, and I met up a couple of years after my divorce. We’ve known each other since high school, and we used to be good friends,” I continue.
“Steven wanted to tell me what had really happened. With Cassie. With Cole. How the lies they’d built their relationship on were starting to unravel, and how far they’d gone to keep the truth buried.”
The room goes quiet. Every set of eyes remain fixed on me, their expressions intent as they wait for me to continue.
“Steven told me it started with a message that popped up on Cassie’s phone one early morning. A notification with a contact name My Baby—with hearts.”
Val mutters a curse under her breath, rolling her eyes. She knows the background.
“Steven confronted Cassie. He was angry—said things he shouldn’t have. Thrown things. Yelled. But he never touched her. Not in the way she claimed to the police.”
I see their eyebrows draw up.
“Their kids were there. They saw everything.”
I pause before continuing.
“Cassie called the police after Steven left with the kids and told them Steven tried to choke her.”
Donna’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh shit.”
“Steven was later arrested and put in jail,” I say. “And when his case went to trial…” I stop and let out a long breath. “It didn’t quite go as planned.”
“Cole was listed as a witness. So was a cousin who had seen Cole and Cassie together while we were still married. From what Steven told me, the cousin was prepared to testify that he had personally witnessed the affair. Cole was also being called to testify under oath and confirm that the relationship with Cassie had been ongoing. Steven’s attorney was trying to prove that the accusation of Steven choking Cassie was fabricated—a story designed to cover up the affair and push Steven out of the picture. ”
Donna asks. “Did they testify?”
“No,” I say. “Cole and the cousin were both there at trial sitting outside the courtroom waiting to be called.”
I swallow.
“They were never called to the stand.”
The words still weigh heavy—like truth doesn’t need a microphone to do damage.
“Steven was told by his attorney that if the case dragged on—if it turned into a credibility fight—because of his prior jail history for theft, they would likely have to call the kids to testify what they saw. His eldest daughter could testify on his behalf since she was older.”
My voice drops.
“Steven refused. He didn’t want to put his daughter through that. So he took a plea deal.”
Silence stretches.
“Basically, Cassie lied,” I say simply. “And Steven went to jail for something he didn’t do. She put him there because she knew he complicated things. Steven knew too much. He threatened the future she wanted with Cole, so she got him out of the way.”
Val’s hands curl into fists. “Like how fucked up can you be? To help put your nephew in jail over a trashy tramp?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Cassie wanted Steven gone, and Cole helped make it happen. Steven was furious with Cole over the affair and wasn’t quiet about it. He was a threat to everything they were trying to build together.”
I nod my head in disbelief.
“Cassie knew Steven had a record. She knew that if he disappeared into the prison system, nobody would take his accusations seriously. As far as she was concerned, her problem was solved.”
I continue. “Steven told me later that if he hadn’t gone to jail, he probably would have hurt Cole. He lost everything.” I sigh, sad thinking about the whole thing. “I don’t blame him for what he felt. I was hurt too when I found out. But my hurt was related to wasted time being with a cheater.”
Val exhales. “It’s all so beyond fucked.”
I nod in agreement.
Not only the affair, or the betrayal. But how easily the truth was buried. How easily the damage was redistributed by the Allister family.
Because in the end, the wrong person paid the price.
And Cole and Cassie walked free. They continued to see each other like they hadn’t falsely put someone in jail so they could be together.
“He should have gone to jail when the accident happened,” I admit. “And this time, he will. I am pressing charges.”
That lands. Val peers up at the ceiling, relief settling into her by my admission.
The shock gives way to something else now—protective, angry, united.
Kay is the first one I notice shift. She’s only twenty-two, all bright energy and soft edges, with short blonde hair that never quite stays where she puts it.
Normally, she’s sunshine and warmth, the kind of girl customers instantly trust. Right now, her jaw is set, her sweetness dimmed into something fierce.
I straighten. “The shop will open as usual today. We’ll release a short statement. No details. Just that there was an incident, it was handled, and everyone is safe.”
Val nods, already shifting into command mode. “I’ll handle it. Any questions, any press, any bullshit, comes to me.”
Donna raises a hand, earnest even throughout this. “Can I still glare at anyone who asks invasive questions?”
“Yes,” Val says without hesitation. “Glaring is encouraged.”
Donna snorts. She’s twenty-five, electric from the tips of her blue-green hair down to her black combat boots, always humming with restless energy like she’s plugged into a live wire. She’s leaning back in her chair now, arms crossed, eyes with heavy black eyeliner.
Joey cracks his knuckles. He’s twenty-three, built like the baseball kid he used to be—broad shoulders, solid stance—even if he’s only about five-nine on a good day.
He shifts his weight automatically, like he’s stepping into a familiar role.
“I volunteer to stand near the door and look intimidating.”
“That’s my job,” Donna says dryly, punching Joey in the shoulder.
“Ouch.” Joey rubs his shoulder, as if the meager punch actually hurt.
They’re all college students. Young. Still figuring out life. And yet here they are—showing up, locking in, choosing this place and each other without hesitation.
They don’t have to. This place is their job. Most people would only see it as a paycheck. A line on a résumé. But they treat it like it matters. They treat us like we matter.
They’ve been unwaveringly loyal—not only to the shop, not only to the brand, but to me. To Val. To this strange little family we’ve built between books and an espresso machine.
They show up early. They stay late. They defend the shop online when trolls get loud. They check in when something feels off. They protect the energy of this place as if it belongs to them. And in many ways, it does.
So I don’t feed them a polished, corporate version of events. I tell them the truth. Because loyalty deserves honesty and they’ve earned more than surface-level explanations.
Despite the age difference, they aren’t just employees. They are our family.
Val turns back to me, a new level of determination hardening her expression. “You’re not dealing with him alone anymore. Ever.”
My eyes begin to burn, so I close them, unwilling to let the tears fall. Because whatever came for us before—and whatever still might—this isn’t a place that folds.
The videos will fade. The rumors will die.
But this—this truth, spoken out loud, has been witnessed by people who care.
And for the first time, I’m not holding myself together alone. So I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.
“Okay,” I say, adding, “there’s one more thing.”
They all stare at me, bracing for whatever comes next.
“I locked the Ring footage last night,” I continue. “I didn’t want anyone seeing it out of context. But I can show it to you now.”