Celina looked up to see the waiter—the same one whose tray had gone crashing to the floor—standing awkwardly, holding a sleek leather order folder.

“I’m sorry, Celina, but… the gentleman who barged into the kitchen asked me to give you this.”

Her stomach flipped. She took the folder with trembling hands.

“He said it was for ‘the most discreet employee in the house,’” the waiter added.

Celina’s eyes widened; she swallowed hard and opened it. Inside was a neatly folded napkin with a handwritten note in Thor’s bold, elegant script—and a few bills tucked beside it:

“Hiding in a broom closet? I expected more from the woman who once defied me so boldly. Your perfume always gives you away, Celina.

Since you like leaving without saying goodbye, I thought you’d prefer something familiar.

This tip should cover the cost of the broken glasses.

—Thor.”

Celina stared at the note, her face burning, her blood boiling. It wasn’t just a note; it was a mirror held up to the past. The same phrase she’d o