Grace POV 🤍

Well. Of course.

How else was my life supposed to start than with my alarm betraying me?

I groaned, rolling over lazily—until my eyes landed on the clock.

9:00 a.m.

“Oh shit—”

My shift started at ten-thirty.

I jumped out of bed, my heart racing as panic took over.

I rushed through getting dressed, barely caring how I looked, grabbed my bag, and locked the apartment behind me.

The apartment my parents paid for—because technically, I was still “figuring life out.” They lived in another city, far away from this mess I was trying to survive alone.

Somehow—by a miracle—I reached the restaurant on time.

The moment I stepped inside, the familiar smell of coffee and food calmed me a little.

I greeted everyone quickly and tied my apron, forcing a smile onto my face. This wasn’t where I imagined myself a year ago. I wasn’t supposed to be a waitress.

But after losing my job last month, reality didn’t give me many choices.

I needed money. I needed stability.

Dreams could wait.

The shift started smoothly. I moved from table to table, serving food, cleaning up, making coffee. My body went on autopilot.

Time slipped by unnoticed, and before I knew it, half the shift was already over.

Evening bled into night.

That’s when the air inside the restaurant changed.

A group of men walked in—well dressed, confident, powerful. The kind of people who didn’t need to announce their importance.

It showed in the way they walked, the way others instinctively noticed them.

Our boss rushed toward us, his face tight with urgency.

“They’re very important clients,” he said sharply. “One mistake—and your job is gone.”

We nodded in unison.

My stomach tightened.

I was asked to take their order.

There were three of them, but the moment my eyes landed on him, everything else blurred.

Brown eyes. Dark. Sharp. Unreadable.

Black hair, neatly styled. Broad shoulders beneath an expensive suit.

He didn’t speak much—but he didn’t need to. His presence alone was intimidating.

He ordered coffee for everyone.

I nodded and walked back to the counter, forcing my hands to stay steady as I prepared the drinks. I reminded myself to breathe. Just coffee. Nothing complicated.

I carried the tray carefully and placed each cup in front of them.

No spills. No mistakes.

Relief washed over me.

I turned to leave—

“Water.”

His voice stopped me in my tracks.

I nodded quickly, grabbed a glass, and returned. As I leaned forward to place it on the table, my grip loosened.

Time slowed.

The tray tilted.

The cup slipped.

And suddenly—hot coffee splashed across his shirt.

For one second, the world went silent.

Then he stood up abruptly.

“I—I’m so sorry,” I gasped, panic clawing at my chest. I grabbed tissues immediately and stepped closer, hands trembling as I tried to help.

“Don’t.”

One word.

Cold. Commanding.

I froze.

He looked down at me, his jaw clenched, eyes dark with anger. The kind of anger that made your throat close up.

“I’m really sorry,” I whispered again, my voice shaking.

“Get lost.”

The words hit harder than the mistake.

I flinched but nodded, stepping back and walking away, my face burning with humiliation.

I could feel eyes on me—whispers, stares. I knew it the moment I reached the counter.

I’d lost this job.

Such an arrogant bastard. It was an accident. Just coffee.

I watched from a distance as he called my boss over. They spoke quietly, their expressions serious.

My heart pounded painfully in my chest as my boss turned and walked toward me.

I already knew.

“You’re fired,” he said.

And just like that, everything fell apart.