The News

~Isabel~

"Fifteen minutes, Isabel," I muttered to myself.

That was my daily countdown. Breaking the end of my shift into minutes was the only way I could survive the final stretch.

I walked through the packed café, balancing a tray of hot coffees on my left hand. My fingers turned red under the mugs as I dodged the elbows of customers crowding the walkway.

Everyone in line by the counter was waving sleek credit cards for overpriced pastries, dressed in clothes that cost more than my savings.

Then my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.

I knew I should ignore it on the floor, but my eyes darted down anyway. It was a reflex. I looked away for one second, and that was my mistake.

My tray tilted.

I snapped my wrist back, trying to save the mugs, but a wave of dark coffee spilled over the rim.

The liquid landed on a blonde girl’s white dress.

“Oh no, no! You ruined my dress!” she screamed.

She glared at me from the display case, and we both watched the dark stain spread across her dress.

Shit. What did I just do?

Every conversation in the room stopped. The cafe went silent, and dozens of eyes locked on me.

“Look at what you’ve done!” she yelled again, spinning to face the tall guy behind her. “William, look! She ruined my dress!”

“I’m so sorry, Ma’am,” I whispered, mortified, as I watched her dress. I wished the ground would swallow me up and end the humiliation burning through me.

“I think it was an accident, Juliana. You were moving too fast and you bumped into her.”

His voice was deep and unfazed.

I looked up from the dress to see who it was. My hands shook so badly the remaining cups rattled on the tray.

“She should have been paying attention to her job!” Juliana snapped, her face flushing red. “An apology doesn’t fix my clothes!”

“Let’s go to the restroom and see if we can clean the stain before it sets,” the guy said.

He stepped into the light from the window, and my brain stopped. I forgot to breathe.

He looked like a gentleman in a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. His dark hair was styled, not a strand out of place, and the gold watch on his wrist glinted under the lights.

But he didn’t look down at me. He wasn’t mad. He looked bored, carrying himself like someone who could buy the building.

Meanwhile, I looked like a broke girl who lived above a hair salon, working three jobs to get by.

“It’s a minor stain, Juliana. Don’t make a scene,” he added, leading her away by the elbow without a backward glance. To a wealthy guy like him, a clumsy waitress spilling a drink was a minor glitch in his day.

I went back to the kitchen, my face red with shame. I finished the rest of my shift on autopilot, cleaning the machines, stacking mugs, and sweeping the floors. I didn’t step into the café again until my manager nodded.

“You’re done for the night. Go home.”

I walked out the back door into the cool night air. I leaned against the brick wall in the alley and pulled my phone from my pocket to see what had been worth a hundred-dollar disaster.

Five missed calls from my mom. One unread text.

‘I got married!’

I read the sentence three times. The city noise faded until I could hear only my breathing.

Married? My mother had chased “soulmates” as long as I could remember, but this was new. No warning. No introduction. Just a text out of nowhere.

The screen flashed as a second message appeared under the first.

‘His name is Arthur Sterling. He’s booked your flight, Bel. You leave for London in forty-eight hours.’

I stared at the screen until my eyes blurred.

“Everything okay, Bel?”

Dave, another server, held the door open, looking at me with concern. I shoved the phone away and forced a smile.

“Yeah. Tired.”

An hour later, I was home, sitting on my tiny bed. The springs groaned when I moved. The air smelled like hairspray and cheap shampoo from Aunt Joey’s salon downstairs.

This cramped room, with its mismatched furniture and cracked window, had been my only safe space since I was twelve. That was the year my mother decided a daughter didn’t fit into her travel schedule.

The phone rang in my hand.

My mother wasn’t going to wait for a text back.

I swiped the screen.

"Mom?"

"Bel! Thank goodness you picked up!"

Sarah’s voice had that sweet tone she used when she wanted something. In the background, ice clinked in a glass and classical music played.

"Did you see my message? Can you believe it? I’m a Sterling now!"

"Sterling? As in Arthur Sterling? The billionaire?" I repeated the name, numb.

"Mom, you’ve been in London four months. How do you know him, let alone marry him so fast?"

"It was fate, darling! He’s everything I wanted. He’s stable, brilliant, and wants to take care of us. No more living in that apartment, Bel. No more scrubbing floors or serving coffee."

I closed my eyes, a sick feeling in my stomach.

"I like my life here, Mom. I love Aunt Joey. I have a plan. I’ve worked three jobs for three years to qualify for Oxford. I don’t need a billionaire to save me."

"Don’t be a martyr, Isabel. It’s annoying." Her voice went cold, dropping the act.

"I know your bank balance. You’re three thousand pounds short for tuition. The school won’t hold your spot after this month. Arthur checked."

A chill ran down my spine.

"He looked at my private account? Why? That’s an invasion of privacy."

"Because he wants to help, Bel! He offered you a job. An internship at Sterling Global. The pay covers tuition and leaves extra. You’ll live with us at the estate. You have to get on the plane. It leaves tomorrow night."

Tomorrow night. My brain stalled. Forty-eight hours shrank to twenty-four.

"I can’t abandon Joey. She stayed, Mom. She was there when you weren’t."

"Joey will be fine, Bel. Arthur plans to invest in her salon. But he won’t if you’re difficult. Think about your career. Do you want to be a waitress forever?"

I looked at my bare hands. They were red from cleaning supplies. My back hurt from standing all day, and I was exhausted.

Then the image of the guy from the café flashed in my head. William. The cold way he looked through me, like I didn’t exist.

"Who would I work for at the firm?" I asked.

"Arthur’s son. He’s intense. But he’s a genius at business. You’ll work in his department. It’s a head start for your resume."

"I’ll think about it," I whispered.

"Don’t think too long, darling. A driver will be at your door at 4:00 PM tomorrow, so pack. I love you, Bel. This is for the best."

The line went dead before I could say goodbye.

I sat in the room, staring at the cracked wall, until my bedroom door opened.