THE HEIRESS: THE FAKE AND THE REAL

Bella’s POV It was sunny. That was all I could remember. I was never a fan of weather checking and the likes. All I knew was whether it was sunny, rainy, or cloudy. I loved to make money and the weather didn’t count. I worked hard as well. Of course, I had to. “An Espresso for me, please!” I heard a frail voice mutter. It was a working class woman who would likely be in her fifties. She would need some energy, I guess. “A moment!” I replied as I sorted out her order. This was the typical American cafe. The cafe was an inherited one. I inherited it naturally from my father. He adopted me when I was very young. He never told me the exact age. He had a wife too but she died soon after I was adopted. I once checked through his files and he had a problem with reproduction. He was impotent. Gosh. The business expanded after his death though. He sold only coffees, teas, and beverages but the moment I took over, I introduced some breakfast items. The business was on its average level and I was its CEO and also the only working personnel. I could have hired someone but I remained selfish. I needed enough money and I wouldn’t pay someone. My dream was to work for fifteen years and retire even before forty-five. My dream could be said to be complete apart from the fact that there was no future partner. I was a loner, yeah. “Over here!” I heard a masculine voice call. He was seated on one of the chairs and he was reading a newspaper. I glanced at him for a second. He had a nicely tailored suit and this hinted to me that he would be a financial elite. He would be rich simply. Still, I refused to compromise. “You should come over to the counter to place your order. There is only one salesperson as you can see,” I replied as I sorted out things at the counter. I looked at him again and he raised his eyebrows at me. “You are the waiter and the barista. Have you ever heard of division of labor?” he asked me calmly. Even though his voice sounded calm, I was disturbed. I had learned never to let my guard down when I was around rich people. But wait, the suit might be borrowed. “Why do I feel like you are trying to make a point?” I asked politely. “I am trying to,” he replied shortly. “If you have no adviser, I might as well be your business adviser. I charge…” “Shh!” I cautioned him out of the blue. “The business does not need you at all. Keep your advice to yourself and come over to the counter to grab your order.” He started to laugh now. It sounded like a laugh of victory but I knew he was pained. I smiled deliberately, wondering how savage I was at him. It gave me inner joy. “I refuse to come over to the counter!” he exclaimed seriously. His face was frowned now and I could tell that I had annoyed him enough. “Then, that means you are not ready to order. You might as well get out of the cafe. I have no use for silly and sophisticated jerks who think so highly of themselves. People older than you came to this counter and ordered. Everyone does so why would I make an exception for you?” I asked him coldly. “Then I will give you the advice for free. You are running the business in a wrong manner so pick up a pen and list all I am going to tell you right now. First…” he continued in a voracious manner. “Stop!” I shouted after banging my hand on the counter. It shook and an opened bottle of water fell. It created a mess and I bit my lip in anger. “You should leave now. I do not intend to listen to your bullshit!” He stood up and moved towards the counter. “You are very rude, I must confess,” he told me calmly with a smile on his face. “I will state my order. Grab a book and pen!” “My IQ is enough to grasp it without writing it down!” I shrugged. “I’ll have a grande, half-decaf iced caramel macchiato with room for cream, but only on the sides, not on the top. I want the caramel syrup drizzled in a zig-zag pattern, but only on one half of the drink. Also, make sure the ice is crushed, not cubed…” he continued to say like a professional. “Oh, and I want an extra pump for vanilla, but only if it’s the sugar free kind. And whipped cream…” “Hey!” I shouted angrily. I could tell he was desperately trying to frustrate me. “What the hell?” he flung back at me. “Now, you need a book and pen, don’t you?” “Just stop it!” I shouted back at him. “Dumb girls would always be dumb girls. If you have a low IQ, you should let people know. It was obvious with the way you ran this place in the first place,” he told me anxiously. I clenched my fists now. “Just get out, you jerk!” I exclaimed angrily. “I will, of course,” he replied, still with a cool smile. “The whole place smells like s**t. It is not with the fragrance though. It is smelling from your body. I wonder how your customers cope. Your sweaty body is even infectious to what you sell.” “You also smell like…” I was going to say but I stopped halfway. He started to laugh afterwards. “Don’t even bother,” he replied. “I smell nice and I know it, darling. Shall I refer you to a nice cologne brand?” I said nothing. “I would never insult people based on their appearance. I am also honest…” I told him carefully. “You are handsome obviously but…” “Thanks for the compliment!” he interrupted. “I must confess that you are a bimbo too.” With this, he picked up his briefcase and left my cafe. I picked up my phone and searched for the meaning of bimbo since I never knew what he meant. “Physically attractive but lacking in intelligence…” I read. I clenched my fists now. I could see him entering his car. I felt like going to crush him with my bare hands. Then I made a move.