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Chapter 8 - The Final Tip

The diner on the corner of 4th and Maple had been completely rebuilt, boasting fresh glass, gleaming chrome counters, and a brand-new sign that read: Parker & Caradonna Café.

It was a crisp Tuesday morning. The bell above the door chimed softly as the morning rush began.

At the corner window table—the exact same table from a year ago—Ethan Caradonna sat in his immaculate charcoal suit, reading the financial section of the morning paper.

The door behind the counter swung open, and Olivia walked out wearing a crisp apron, carrying a ceramic mug of black coffee and a plate of warm, buttered toast.

She set the coffee down gently. Then she placed the plate of toast right beside it.

With a smirk, Ethan reached into his pocket, pulled out a crisp, brand-new ten-dollar bill, and slid it neatly beneath the porcelain cup.

Never nine.

Never eleven.

Olivia crossed her arms, looking down at him with a knowing smile. "You know, Mr. Caradonna, inflation is a real thing. Ten dollars doesn't cover the service charge anymore."

Ethan looked up, the hard, dangerous edge in his eyes melting away into a warm, genuine smile that the world outside never got to see.

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"Some things, Olivia," Ethan murmured, his gaze locking onto hers, "are priceless."

He picked up his coffee, the ten-dollar bill resting securely beneath the cup, signaling that the perimeter was safe, the war was over, and they were finally home.

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