Instead of his usual coffee, she brought him a cup of warm guava leaf tea, unsweetened, along with whole-grain bread. Tucked beside the plate was a small handwritten note: “For your health.”
Arthur looked at the tray, then at her. He didn’t say a word—but from that day on, he left a much larger tip.
And every morning, without being asked, the tea appeared.
One Wednesday, he didn’t come.
At eight, his table remained empty. At nine, Isabella kept glancing toward the door. By ten, a sharply dressed man entered the restaurant, flanked by two bodyguards.
“I’m looking for Miss Isabella Reed,” he said.
Her heart skipped. “That’s me.”
“My name is Daniel Foster,” he said. “I am the attorney for Mr. Arthur Bennett. He passed away last night. He requested that you come with me immediately.”
For a moment, the world seemed to tilt.
She was escorted into a sleek, armored SUV and driven to a towering glass building downtown. Inside a polished boardroom, three people were waiting: a man in an expensive suit named Christopher, his wife, and a company executive.
Christopher looked at Isabella with thinly veiled disdain.
The reading of the will began.