The familiar chime of the backroom door closing behind her was oddly comforting. Luna stepped into the cluttered, slightly musky room where spare cat trees, bags of food, and cleaning supplies lined the walls like loyal old furniture.
Ken sat at the small folding table with a stack of receipts and a half-drunk can of coffee in front of him.
He looked up, startled at first, then relaxed. "Luna. Thanks for coming."
"You sounded serious," Luna said, slipping into the cracked vinyl chair across from him.
Ken ran a hand through his overgrown bangs, letting out a long sigh. "Yeah. So, uh… remember Mr. Osborne?"
"The owner? Yeah, why?"
"He won the lottery."
Luna blinked. "Okay... good for him?"
Ken snorted. "No, I mean he really won. A million cash and one of those ridiculous estates in the high-rise district. He dropped by this morning to say he's cashing out of the 'coffee-and-cat game' and is moving out of the country in a week."
Luna leaned forward. "Wait. What about the café?"
Ken looked at her grimly. "He's selling it. If no one buys it by the end of the week, it's shutting down. He already gave the formal notice."
Luna sat back in stunned silence. "Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack," Kenji said, rubbing his temples. "I tried to talk him out of it, told him this place is more than just a shop to us, but he's… gone. Mentally already sipping cocktails in Dubai or something."
Luna let out a breath and rubbed her temples. "How much?"
Ken blinked. "What?"
"The café. How much does it cost to buy it? Or at least keep it running?"
Ken hesitated. "To survive a year? With the lease, utilities, cat food, insurance, salaries… I'd say around a quarter of a million."
Luna nearly choked. "For one year?!"
"It's the cats," Ken said flatly. "They eat better than I do."
Luna let out a long sigh, then leaned forward. "Give me Osborne's number."
Ken narrowed his eyes. "Wait—what are you planning?"
"Just… wait for tomorrow. I'll have some news," she said, avoiding his gaze.
Ken frowned. "Luna… are you okay? You're acting… I don't know, like you stepped out of a soap opera."
Luna smiled awkwardly. "Weird week. Don't worry about me. I'm still me. Just... trying to make sense of things."
Ken didn't look convinced, but he nodded slowly and jotted down the number on a napkin. Luna took it, stood, and turned to leave.
But before she could reach the front door, Leroy stepped out from behind the espresso machine and blocked her way.
"You're not walking home alone, are you?" he asked.
"I've got someone waiting at the park," Luna said.
Leroy hesitated, then softened. "Okay. But if you ever need anything—money, help, even someone to scream into the void with—you call me. Got it?"
Luna managed a crooked smile. "Thanks, Leroy. I might take you up on that scream."
He gave her a two-finger salute and watched her go.
As she walked back toward the hidden car waiting at the edge of the park, Luna looked down at the napkin in her hand and whispered to herself, "Quarter of a million... huh."
And for the first time since stepping into her new life, the idea of spending some of her billions didn't feel ridiculous—it felt necessary.
By the time Luna stepped back into the grand marble foyer of the manor, the sun was already beginning to set, casting long golden shadows across the polished floors. The driver offered to take her coat, but she waved him off and slipped out of her shoes herself—habit was hard to break.
A maid greeted her with a gentle bow. "Welcome back, Miss Luna. Would you like to take a bath to relax, or perhaps spend some time in the entertainment room before dinner?"
Luna blinked. "Entertainment room?"
"Yes, we have a selection of pastimes prepared. Billiards, darts, karaoke, vintage arcade machines, board games, and a small in-house theater. Would you like me to escort you?"
Her curiosity piqued, Luna nodded. "Sure, why not."
She followed the maid down a velvet-lined hallway until ornate double doors opened into a spacious lounge adorned with rich wood paneling, leather couches, and the quiet click of pool balls. Her steps faltered.
There they were.
Her cousins.
Both young men looked up from the billiards table, pool cues in hand and expressions already taut with disapproval. The taller one, Sebas, gave a humorless smirk while Cass simply raised an eyebrow, as if her arrival confirmed some tiresome expectation.
"Well, if it isn't our little heiress," Sebas drawled, chalking the end of his cue with slow deliberation. "Come to try your hand at pool? Or are you too afraid of losing in something that doesn't come with a trust fund?"
Luna's brows twitched. She turned to leave without a word, but the shorter cousin scoffed and added under his breath, "She probably doesn't even know how to play."
Her steps stopped cold.
Luna turned slowly, folding her arms. "You're right. I don't."
That earned her twin smirks of superiority, but then she tilted her head with a sly smile.
"But I do know how to play darts."
The smirks dimmed.
"In fact, I'm pretty damn good at it. Want to see if money can buy talent?" she said, voice light but eyes sharp.
The cousins exchanged glances. One of them shrugged. "Fine. The dartboard's over there."
They moved to a side wall where a professional-grade dartboard hung above a vintage cabinet of whiskey. Luna picked out a set of darts, testing the weight with a casual flick of her wrist.
The first round began.
Thwack. Bullseye.
Her cousins tensed.
Thwack. 50 points.
By the third round, their posture stiffened with disbelief. Luna, on the other hand, grew more relaxed with every toss. Her throws were clean, practiced, and unnervingly accurate. Years of killing time during long shifts at the café paid off—darts had been her favorite escape.
She won. Again. And again.
By the fifth game, her cousins were scowling, their pride clearly bruised. Luna raised a brow, holding her last dart between her fingers.
"Want to go again? Or are you too afraid of losing?" she said, echoing their earlier taunt with a mocking sweetness.
They didn't answer. One silently racked the pool balls again while the other turned away, jaw clenched.
Satisfied, Luna gave a small, smug curtsy and turned back toward the door, her steps light.
The entertainment room wasn't so bad after all.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Luna stood in front of the ornate mirror in her room, fiddling with the hem of the blouse one of the maids had laid out for her—semi-casual, elegant but not too showy. It felt strange not to wear anything with a cat motif or a coffee stain somewhere on it.
She had chosen a pair of tailored beige slacks and a light lavender blouse with delicate buttons, the fabric so smooth it made her skin feel overly aware of itself.
She sighed, brushing back her hair. "This better not wrinkle during dinner."
Just then, her new smartphone buzzed on the vanity.
Incoming Call: Leroy
Luna blinked, surprised. She tapped the screen and held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"Finally!" came Leroy's voice, loud and dramatic as always. "I was starting to think you died and your ghost inherited a new phone."
Luna snorted. "Really?"
"You didn't answer my message. I texted your old number three times. What happened to your brick of a phone? You've had that thing for five years ago."
Luna glanced at the new phone in her hand, feeling like she was holding a luxury spaceship. "It… uh, wasn't working right anymore. So I got a new one."
There was a long pause on the other end.
"...And that's why you're acting weird?" Leroy said slowly. "The sudden new phone has thrown off your entire vibe? Makes sense. It's like seeing a cat in shoes."
Luna laughed, genuinely this time. "Oh my god, Leroy. That's the weirdest analogy."
"Tell me I'm wrong."
She didn't.
"But seriously," he added after a beat, "you good? You sound… different. And not like you-just-found-five-bucks different. Like... something's up."
Luna sat on the edge of her bed, looking around the massive room with its plush rugs and delicate sconces. "It's just… been a long couple of days," she said vaguely, rubbing her temple. "I'll tell you more soon. Maybe tomorrow."
There was a short silence before he said, "Okay. But if you start talking like a politician or wearing sunglasses indoors, I'm staging an intervention."
"I'll leave the sunglasses at home, promise."
Luna glanced at the gilded wall clock and her eyes widened. "Crap. I need to go—dinner with my dad."
"Wait, your dad?" Leroy echoed in confusion, but she was already halfway to the door.
"I'll explain tomorrow! Don't freak out!"
"Luna—wait—"
Click.
She ended the call and tucked the phone into her pocket, jogging toward the dining hall with a bizarre mix of guilt and giddiness fluttering in her chest. It felt like she was juggling lives—her old one and this extravagant, unbelievable new one—and for now, neither was ready to let go.