~ 6 years later ~

"Here's your americano, sir," I say, cheerfully passing the drink over the counter to a man in a black suit.

I had been working at Little Beans Cafe since I turned 16, so that after boarding school I could move into a small apartment. While dad did send me money once every year to pay for college and rooming, I knew I wanted to have a little extra money that I can save on the side. That's why when Elliot told me about this place only a few blocks away from the school, I applied for a job.

Now after 5 years, I rose in ranks, and became the assistant manager.

"That looks to be the last person," Rose says. Rose is in her mid 30s and is the manager/owner here in this little coffee shop. She also was the person who hired and taught me everything there was to know. Towards me, she acts like the mom I never had.

For some reason this place is always busy. Yes, I get that this place may be one of the only cafes in the town, but who gets coffee at 5 pm. I didn't realize till I asked to take the night shifts because they would fit better in my schedule after my morning classes.

"How's college life treating you? I swear you have been in college forever, are you planning to actually graduate soon?" Rose jokes, while cleaning off a table.

"I'm actually graduating in a few days with my master's in computer engineering and a bachelor's in cybersecurity. If you want to come you can," I say, looking over my shoulder to see Rose's reaction.

"Seriously?!" She stops cleaning the table and speed walks over to me; pulling me into her smaller frame. My nose fills with the amazing scent of flowers. "Yes, of course I will go. I am so proud of you," she exclaims.

"Hey, I actually have to graduate before you say that, ow," I whine in reflex as Rose hits me on the head with a roll of paper towels.

"Oh it didn't hurt. Anyways, I can say that I am proud of you whenever I want," she states, bopping me on the head again with the paper towels.

"What about your boyfriend? Is he also going to cheer you on?"

"Oh, him. No, we just broke up after three years."

"Oh, Luke, I am so sorry."

"No, it's fine. We both agreed that we weren't right for each other." And that's true. We will probably go back to being friends, but at the moment we both just need a little break.

"Oh Luke, I almost forgot. I made a new tea for you to try. Maybe it will cheer you up." Oh god not another one.

Rose has been trying to come up with a new best seller for the store. It used to fall on the hands of another employee, but after that employee left, Rose said she wanted to try and make one herself; and since I apparently have the best taste palette the responsibility of tasting all these teas falls on me. Hooray! Not.

"Here you are." Rose smiles innocently while passing me the cup. The tea itself looks like a normal light brown color. I raise the small, light blue cup up to my mouth and take a tiny sip.

A bright smile on my face hides the inner turmoil that's plastering my taste buds.

"Did I finally find a winner?" Rose questions with her amber eyes. I wish I could say yes to her with how much work she has put into it evident by the amount of flyaways in her once tight ponytail, but today and for the rest of her life I can tell she just doesn't have it in her to make a good tea.

"Peach, watermelon, and maple syrup are not a winning combination," I say, hiding behind my giant smile. I swear this woman's taste palette is completely fried.

"I guess so, what else would go with maple syrup?" Rose questions looking at me. God damn, this woman and her maple syrup. Pomegranate and maple syrup tea, lime and maple syrup tea, tomato and maple syrup tea. She even tried to crush down a waffle and mix it into tea with maple syrup. I was coughing up waffle bits as soon as I left the damn store.

"Why don't we move past the maple syrup and try something like lemon."

"But lemon tea is so boring. WAIT I GOT IT!" Rose shouts, smacking her hand on the table. "Why don't I add bacon. Everyone loves bacon an-...."

"No, we are not adding bacon to anything." I cut down Rose's idea immediately not wanting to taste that monstrosity.

"But you haven't tried it yet and I am.."

"No." I vocalize ending the discussion.

"Fineee," Rose whines, looking at the clock on the wall. I turn my head to look that way and I realize my shift has ended.

"Well I'm going to head out. See you tomorrow," I wave at Rose.

I gather my stuff from the back room and I walk back to my apartment complex. The apartments are not modern by any means, but they are still nice and not falling apart.

The outside is a light blue with a few balconies hanging out on the top floors. The rest of the building is covered in windows where apartments like mine, have only one small window where you can let in natural light.

I walk through the modern looking lobby passing a small seating area into the mailroom. I normally check it every day to see if I got a new letter from dad. While I can't send him my phone number or anything, he still sends messages to tell me what's new happening in my brothers' and his life.

I scan through the wall of gray locked mailboxes to find the one that has my apartment number on it. Once I reach it, number 5371, I pull the key out of the pocket of my black cargo pants and jam it into the key slot.

The mailbox swings open so I can see the one small white envelope resting inside. I grab the letter sent to Luke Hayes and re-lock the mailbox.

Once I'm in my apartment, I walk past the small kitchen into my bedroom on the right. I take no time in opening the letter and feeding the piece of paper inside through my printer to scan it into my computer. Once I do that, I sit down in my black, reclining chair and get to work copying dad's message into my decrypting code.

Dear Cameron,

He never calls me Cameron in letters. Is someone else trying to mislead or lie to me in this letter? Did the codes I sent to him get hacked?

If you have received this letter, it means I have passed away. Yes I know, this sounds a little off. I even called you Cameron, which must've got your little brain twisting in all types of ways because you're my son in brains. But, I promise you this is real and I am really dead.

Now I know I have quite a bit to explain, but that would be a never ending letter, and I'm not into writing.

Is he seriously writing jokes in his damn death letter?! When the hell did he start cracking jokes.

Besides that, I have one final thing to ask you before I depart. I know this is selfish of me, but you are the only person I know who is skeptical, mistrusting, and is out of the underground loop.

I feel targeted in this letter. I look past my dad's critiquing to the next words standing out at me.

My death wasn't an accident. Someone is trying to take over the French mafia and is trying to kill all of the heirs. I can't explain much in this letter, in fear of it getting intercepted, but I have it all laid out on my computer, which has your coding on it (the one you sent me a year ago). I assume it's one of our relatives, so I planned a funeral for myself that is set to take place on June 5th in our backyard. That should give you a week to find the culprit.

Love,
Your father

Only my father would plan a funeral for himself to capture the people who killed him and are trying to kill my brothers, I think to myself trying to ignore the slight pain in my chest.

Maybe I should get some sleep, I wonder, but as I sink into the foamy mattress I find that idea impossible. Every turn in bed leads to a different thought that ultimately conjoins with the thought of my dead father. It's like losing him a second time, only this time I will never get a reply back.

At 4 am is when my thoughts finally dim down and I drift into a sleepless state knowing that in less than two weeks, I would be on a flight back to France looking at the family I ran away from and the person who may hate me for what I did.