The next day Maria quietly prepared for work and went to the café.
The discussion she had with Celine was still playing in her head and it weakened her entire system.
She just wanted a peaceful holiday and not to be entangled in this family mess.
She moved between tables serving customers, keeping her head down.
The usual chatter of the café surrounded her — the clinking of cups, the hum of conversations, the occasional laughter — but it all sounded distant to her, like she was underwater.
Every time the door opened, her eyes flickered toward it for a split second before she forced herself to focus again.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone might be watching her, even though nothing seemed out of place.
Her hands worked on autopilot, placing orders, wiping tables, delivering drinks.
A few customers smiled at her, but she barely noticed.
Normally she would respond politely, maybe even exchange a few words, but today she just nodded faintly and moved on.
Her thoughts were elsewhere — on Alex, on his father’s death, and on the warning that still echoed in her mind.
When she stepped into the kitchen to drop off some trays, her phone dinged.
The sound was soft, almost insignificant, but it sent a sharp jolt through her body.
Her heart skipped, and for a moment she just stared at the phone in her hand without moving.
A strange sense of dread crept in, tightening her chest.
She opened the message and froze.
_Maria, I’m watching you.
You are quite bold not to tell Alex what I told you to do._
Even without being told who sent this, she knew it was Celine, Alex’s stepmother.
Fear settled in her chest, but she had to compose herself during her shift.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she held the phone.
She quickly locked the screen and slipped it back into her pocket, as if hiding it could somehow make the message less real.
Her breathing became shallow, uneven.
For a moment, she leaned against the kitchen counter, closing her eyes briefly.
_I am watching you._
The words echoed in her head, over and over again.
She resisted the urge to look around, to check every corner, every shadow.
If Celine really had someone watching her, any sudden reaction might only make things worse.
She straightened up, forcing her shoulders back, forcing her expression into something neutral.
No one here could know.
No one could suspect anything.
She had to act normal.
But inside, the fear didn’t go away.
It settled deeper, heavier, like a weight she couldn’t shake off.
The rest of her shift dragged on endlessly.
Every small sound made her tense.
Every unfamiliar face made her uneasy.
She kept thinking about Alex — about how he didn’t know anything yet, about how dangerous it could be if he found out the wrong way.
She was caught in a position she never asked for, forced to choose between telling him the truth or keeping him safe.
By the time her shift ended, she felt drained, both physically and emotionally.
She changed out of her work clothes slowly, her movements lacking their usual energy.
Even stepping outside the café didn’t bring relief.
The air felt just as heavy.
The journey home felt longer than usual.
She kept her head down, her pace steady, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder too often.
Still, the feeling of being watched lingered, clinging to her like a shadow.
Maria came back home and saw Alex already setting the dinner table. This story is hosted at g.com.
For a brief moment, she paused at the doorway, just watching him.
There was something painfully normal about the scene — plates neatly arranged, the quiet focus on his face as he worked.
It contrasted so sharply with everything happening around them that it almost felt unreal.
“Oh, Maria, eh.
You came on time today,” Alex said.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“Let me freshen up first.” She showered and changed, then joined him.
Under the warm water, Maria stood still for a moment, letting it run over her as if it could wash away the fear clinging to her.
But it didn’t.
The message stayed in her mind, clear and unrelenting.
She pressed her hands against the wall, taking a slow breath before finishing up.
When she returned to the dining area, she had composed herself again — at least on the surface.
They ate quietly for a while.
The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t peaceful either.
It felt like something unspoken was sitting right there with them, waiting.
Finally, Maria spoke.
“Alex, please.
Can you do something for me?”
Her voice was calm, but there was a subtle tension beneath it.
She kept her eyes on her plate for a second before finally looking up at him.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Anything for you.”
“Can you not fight for your father’s fortune?” Her voice was low but firm.
“Come with me to New York.
Let’s live a better life.
Your father told you the person behind all this is someone from your family.
The only thing they want is the wealth.
Leave it for them.
You’re not strong enough yet.
Come with me.”
As she spoke, her hands tightened slightly around her utensils.
Every word felt heavier than the last.
She wasn’t just asking — she was pleading, even if she tried to hide it.
The fear from earlier hadn’t left her.
If anything, it had grown stronger, pushing her to make this decision now.
Alex just sat there, not talking.
The silence stretched.
His expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed somewhere between her and the table.
The weight of her words hung heavily in the air.
After a moment he said, “Tomorrow is my father’s burial.
After his burial, I’ll tell you my answer.”
“Okay,” Maria said.
“But I want you to know — if you don’t walk away from your father’s fortune, I’ll have no choice but to leave you.
I can’t stay and be in danger.”
The words came out steady, but inside, she felt like something was breaking.
She didn’t want to leave him.
The thought alone hurt more than she expected.
But the fear — the constant, pressing fear — was stronger.
After dinner, Maria went upstairs to sleep.
Upstairs, Maria lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
Sleep didn’t come easily.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that message again.
_I’m watching you._ She turned to her side, then back again, restless.
Downstairs, Alex sat in silence, replaying everything she had said.
Her words didn’t sit well with him, but neither did the thought of losing her.
He felt torn, caught between two paths that both demanded something from him.
He didn’t know what to do, so he left the house and went to see Mr.
Thompson.
The night air was cool, but it didn’t calm him.
His thoughts were too loud, too persistent.
He knocked.
Mr.
Thompson let him in.
Mr.
Thompson was dressed in a bathrobe, a glass of wine in his hand.
When he saw Alex, he set the glass down.
“Oh, Alex.
Why are you here so late?”
“I’m confused,” Alex said.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s going on?”
“Maria told me not to fight for the family fortune,” Alex said.
“She wants me to leave it all behind and come with her to New York.
But I don’t want to.
I want revenge.
And I love her — I can’t let her leave me.”
“I understand,” Mr.
Thompson said.
“You have to choose.” He paused.
“All I can say is this: maybe you should leave the family fortune for now.
Go get stronger.
Then come back and fight when you’re ready.
I think that would be best for you.”
“But if you choose to fight now,” he continued, “you have to know what that means.
You’ll be walking straight into danger.
And now that Maria’s involved, they might attack her.
That’s what you’re really thinking about, isn’t it?”
Alex nodded.
“She’s scared.
I think they’ve threatened her — used my life or someone close to her to get to her.
I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t worry,” Mr.
Thompson said.
“Tomorrow during the burial, my men will be in the shadows watching.
I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong at the burial, and Maria will be safe.”
“Okay,” Alex breathed.
“Okay.
Thank you, Uncle.
You’re so good to me.”