The morning started like any other. Rain pattered softly against our small apartment window, the city outside buzzing with life. I was preparing breakfast, flipping pancakes while Jason reviewed plans for our fledgling business. Our routine felt steady, almost comforting—until the knock on the door disrupted it.
Jason’s brow furrowed as he opened it. A man in a crisp suit stood there, holding a leather portfolio. His smile was professional, but something about the intensity of his gaze suggested urgency.
“Good morning,” he said, glancing at me. “I’m Daniel Harris, a local investor. I believe I have a proposition that might interest you.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed, skepticism clear. “An investor? For what?”
Daniel smiled faintly. “I’ve been following your plans. The café-meets-auto-shop con
