Chapter 3

The next morning at ten.

I brought two movers from the moving company and pushed open the door to the third-floor shop.

There was still no power. The air was thick with the sour smell of fermenting cream.

I directed the workers to dismantle the display cases.

The crisp clicking of high heels echoed from outside the door.

"This smell is absolutely disgusting." A nasally voice came from the doorway.

I turned. Marshall was bowing and scraping behind a woman in a Chanel suit.

The woman wore sunglasses and carried a Hermès bag, looking around my store with disdain.

"This is the store?"

She took off her sunglasses and waved her hand dismissively.

"This decor is so tacky. Marshall, are you sure this location is good?"

"Absolutely! Ms. Santos, look—this spot is right across from the escalator. All the foot traffic flows right here."

Marshall pointed at me.

"It was just wasted on this low-end shop before. But with your 'Star Tea,' it'll absolutely blow up."

Santos glanced at me, looking me up and down in my casual clothes.

"You're the tenant?"

I ignored her and continued speaking to the workers.

"Be careful with that coffee machine. Don't damage it."

Santos, now being ignored, darkened.

"Hey, I'm talking to you. Are you deaf?"

She clicked into the store on her heels, leaving white marks on the hardwood floor.

"This floor needs to be completely torn up too. What awful taste."

She kicked a packing box I hadn't gotten into storage yet.

"Hurry up and get lost. Don't delay my designer measuring the space."

I turned and looked at her.

"This store's lease has three months left. Currently, this is still my private business premises."

"Please leave."

Santos looked like she'd heard a joke. She turned to Marshall.

"Marshall, what did she say? She's telling me to leave?"

Marshall's face immediately hardened as he walked toward me.

"Leon, don't push your luck. Ms. Santos choosing this location is a blessing for you."

"Didn't you say you're moving today? Why are you still dragging your feet?"

"Moving takes time, doesn't it?"

"Or is Marshall so impatient he can't even wait half a day? Want to help me move personally?"

"You!"

Marshall pointed at my nose, but Santos stopped him.

"Forget it, Marshall. Why argue with someone from the bottom rung?"

Santos pulled a business card from her purse and tossed it on my table.

"Looking at your pathetic state, you probably have nowhere to go."

"Come be a janitor at my new store. Considering you're giving up this spot for me, I'll give you three thousand base salary."

She covered her mouth and laughed.

"Though you'll need to wash off that poverty stench first."

The movers couldn't take it anymore.

"How can you talk like that? Ms. Leon has always been so polite to us. Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Oh, you brought bodyguards too?"

Santos rolled her eyes.

"A bunch of manual laborers, and you think you can raise your voice at me?"

I held back the movers who wanted to rush forward.

"Get back to work. When a dog bites, you don't bite back."

Santos's face twisted instantly.

"Who are you calling a dog?!"

"Whoever responds, I guess."

I swept her business card into the trash.

"Marshall, take your distinguished guest and leave. Otherwise I'm calling the police for trespassing."

Marshall's jaw clenched as he pointed at me.

"Fine. Leon, keep acting tough. Let's see how long you last."

He turned to Santos with an apologetic smile.

"Ms. Santos, let's go to my office for some tea. Once she's cleared out, we'll come back."

Santos snorted coldly and clicked away on her heels.

On her way out, she deliberately knocked over an advertising board by the door.

It crashed against the glass door with a tremendous bang.

"What a piece of junk."

The hallway went quiet again. One of the movers sighed.

"Ms. Leon, this property management is way too much. Your store does such good business—how can they just kick you out like this?"

"It's fine. Out with the old, in with the new."

I pulled out my phone and sent Richard a message.

"How's your progress?"

"Equipment's dismantled, loading it now. SKY Mall cleared space overnight. We can move in tonight."

"Good."

I put away my phone and looked at the shop being emptied bit by bit.

On the wall was still the group photo from our opening day.

Back then this place was barren—there wasn't even a janitor.

I'd brought Carla and the others, and we'd wiped it clean ourselves with rags.

Now, there was nothing left.

At two in the afternoon, most of the stuff was packed.

I had the workers push the largest commercial oven toward the freight elevator.

I pressed the button repeatedly. The freight elevator door didn't budge. A white notice was posted next to it.

"Freight elevator under maintenance, temporarily out of service." Signed by Property Management.

I looked at that notice and smiled.

Marshall was deliberately messing with me.

Moving a several-hundred-pound oven down three floors via the stairs was impossible.

And it wouldn't fit in the passenger elevator.

I pulled out my phone and called Marshall.

"What's going on with the freight elevator?"

Marshall yawned on the other end.

"Maintenance. Didn't you see the notice? The cables are worn out. For everyone's safety, we had to shut it down."

"When will it be fixed?"

"Hard to say. Could be three days, could be two weeks. Parts have to be shipped from out of town."

He lowered his voice, his tone full of mockery.

"Leon, I told you—you can't move that junk. Why not just leave it here? Let Santos sell it as scrap."

"Or, you could come to my office right now and apologize to me and Santos."

"If I'm in a good mood, maybe the freight elevator will magically get fixed."

I hung up and turned to the movers.

"Leave the oven."

The workers froze.

"Leave it? But this is imported—it's worth at least tens of thousands!"

"Leave it. Just put it here."

I pointed to the middle of the hallway, right in front of the empty unit next door.

"Right here."

The workers didn't understand but did as told.

The massive oven sat like an iron tower, blocking the hallway solidly.

I dusted off my hands.

"Let's go downstairs."