Chapter <b>276 </b>


    ISADORA’S POV


    80


    1295 Vouchers


    The thought of that n alone made me feel so good, a shiver of satisfaction running down my spine every time I pictured it. The image of Olivia with a gun in her own hand, forced to pull the trigger, her legacy erased in a moment, was almost intoxicating. That was my main n, my ultimate strike, but as tempting as it was, it couldn’t be the first move. No, that would be too obvious, <i>too </i>reckless.


    My second n, kidnapping her son would only work if the groundwork wasid properly. Which meant my first n had to be about destroying her socially. I needed to strip her of her reputation, her allies, her sense of security. I wanted her business empire to crumble beneath her feet, to watch as the very people she trusted turned their backs on her. I wanted her investors to panic and pull out, her partners to distance themselves from her name, and her board of directors to start doubting her capability.


    Once I managed that, the stage would be set perfectly. Everyone would believe she was falling apart, that she couldn’t handle the pressure of her world crumbling. And when the day came that a video of her “suicide” surfaced, they’d all nod their heads knowingly. Of course she did it, they’d whisper. She lost everything, she couldn’t take the humiliation.


    Yes. That was perfect. Elegant even.


    The problem was execution. Ideas were easy. Execution… not so much.


    I tapped my nails against the counter, staring at the reflection of my tired face in the ss disy. “But how am I going to do that?” I muttered under my breath. That was the question that had haunted me ever since this n took root in my mind.


    In order to destroy Olivia socially, I needed leverage. I needed someone powerful who already hated her, someone who would benefit from her downfall as much as I would. The truth was, I didn’t have the money or the influence to start such a campaign on my own. I couldn’t exactly go around throwing money at tabloids, bloggers, and shady mediapanies to smear her name, it would eat me alive financially. And even if I tried, it wouldn’t be convincing enough.


    No, this had toe from someone established, someone who already held a seat at the table.


    I sighed heavily and leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the wooden surface of the counter. Frustration built in my chest like a storm cloud. Without step one, step two would be pointless. If I kidnapped her son without weakening her first, too many people would start asking the wrong questions. It would look suspicious, and suspicion was the one thing I couldn’t afford.


    I was at a dead end.


    I groaned softly, thumping my head lightly against the counter again as if punishing myself for not being able to think my way out of it. My mind kept circling the same walls, running into the same obstacles over and over. For once, I found myself wishing for a miracle. If only someone – someone who hated Olivia just as much as I did, someone with money, power, and reach–could just appear out of thin air and walk straight into my life. Someone who could do what I couldn’t and light the match that would burn her reputation down.


    —


    The soft jingle of the bell rang out, sharp and clear in the silence of the empty café. My eyes darted toward the entrance. The sound meant only one thing someone had just walked in.


    10:23 <b>Sat</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b>20


    Just like that, my little pocket of rest, my brief escape into plotting, was over. Work called again.


    80


    55 Vouchers


    I quickly stood straight, brushing off thezy posture I had held just a moment ago. I am expected to look professional for the first customer of the day. <i>My </i>lips stretched into what I hoped was a pleasant smile, though deep down I knew it was forced.


    “Good day, sir,” I greeted, steadying my voice even though the lingering thoughts of Olivia’s downfall still raced in the back of my mind.


    The man who had walked in wasn’t like the usual kind of customers who shuffled through the café doors. He had an air ofposure around him, a presence that made me immediately feel the need to stand straighter. His gray hair was neatlybed, and though he had wrinkles that showed his age, there was somethingmanding in the way he carried himself, like he was a man used to respect.


    “Good day,” he replied politely, his voice calm yet strong. “I’d like to get your morning espresso.<i>” </i>


    “Of course,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I didn’t want to waste his time. “Would you like it to go, or are you having it here?”


    “To go,” he said without hesitation.


    “Just give me a second,” I replied quickly. My hands moved almost automatically as I reached for a disposable cup, slid it under the espresso machine, and pressed the button. The rich, familiar aroma of coffee filled the air as the dark liquid poured out steadily. I tried to keep my focus on the task, but for some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this man wasn’t just another ordinary customer.


    I ced the lid on the cup, slid it neatly into a small brown paper bag, and tucked in one of the sugar packets on the side something I often did for elderly customers who preferred to sweeten their coffeeter. “Alright, sir, your order is ready,” I said, cing the bag on the counter with a small smile.


    Before handing it over, I paused. “What’s your name, sir, so I can put it down on the order?” I asked, reaching into the drawer to grab the ck marker I kept ready forbeling cups.


    The man looked at me, his gray eyes calm and clear. “José. José ke.”


    The marker hovered above the cup as his words sank in. My fingers froze mid–movement, and my heart skipped a beat. That name… thatst name. It was too familiar, far too recognizable for me to ignore.


    ke.


    I had heard it before, each time with disgust curling in my chest. How could I possibly forget? That cursedst name belonged to none other than Olivia the same person I was just plotting against a few seconds ago


    Olivia ke.


    Apparently, that was her newst name ever since she found this her so–called new family


    I blinked, my hand trembling slightly as the realization hit harder. The man standing in front of me was elderly, dignified, and carried the samest name. Could it be…? Was this man rted to her?


    The thought made my stomach twist with a mixture of excitement and bitterness. My mind began


    10:23 <b>Sat</b>, <b>Sep </b>20


    55 vouchers


    connecting the dots at lightning speed. He was too old to be her brother. Too polished and respectable to be some distant cousin I hadn’t heard of. Which only left one obvious conclusion…


    Could this be her father?


    My heart raced at the possibility. The idea that Olivia’s father had just walked into my café, my space, my territory felt surreal. It was almost as if fate itself had just handed me an opportunity on a silver tter. If he truly was her father, then perhaps this was the break I needed. After all, what better way to unravel Olivia than to get close to her family, to dig for weaknesses, to discover cracks I could exploit?


    But I couldn’t let my eagerness show. Not yet. If I jumped to conclusions and made a fool of myself, I might ruin what could be my biggest chance.


    “Is there a problem?” the man’s voice cut through my racing thoughts, snapping me back into the moment. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, as though he had noticed how distracted I suddenly looked.


    I realized then that I had been holding his coffee far too long, my eyes staring nkly <i>at </i>the name I hadn’t even finished writing on the cup. My lips parted, but no words came at first. My curiosity was wing at me, urging me to ask, to confirm what I already suspected.


    I hesitated, but the temptation was too strong. The question slipped out before I could stop it. “Yes, sir, everything is okay,” I began, though my tone carried a trace of nervous energy. “It’s just… yourst name. ke.”


    I swallowed hard, bracing myself.


    “Are you… Olivia ke’s father?”


    And it was only after the words left my mouth that I realized just how direct the question sounded. There was no subtlety in my voice, no careful approach just raw curiosity spilling out all at once.


    The café suddenly felt too quiet, the hum of the espresso machine fading into the background. My chest tightened as I waited for his answer, every second stretching longer than it should.


    AD


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