Chapter 297 Princess‘ Diner

LUNA

b58 /b

10 Free China

Marcel and I stopped chuckling. Princess really had a way of making sure that the atmosphere was dampened.

I pursed my lips, keeping my eyes on the mop water rather than her smirk. “Let’s go, Marcel,” I muttered, turning to leave the room, but before I could take another step, Princess blocked the door by flicking her perfectly curled hair.

“Did I hear that right?” she asked, feigning surprise with a hand on her chest. “Joshua Saint finally told you that you were a dare?” she asked, amused.

“I knew it.” She leaned in closer with a victorious smile. “Because he’s with me.”

I pursed my lips again. “Good for you, Princess,” I said softly. “I hope you guys are happy.”

“Jealous?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Sure,” I said simply. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her today.

She chuckled, sounding satisfied. “He’ll be visitingter,” she added as she finally stepped aside. “Don’t stare too much.”

I didn’t answer. There was no point. She’d already won whatever imaginary battle she thought we were fighting. Marcel shot her a re that could kill, but Princess didn’t notice–she was too busy adjusting her reflection in the metal napkin holder before strutting off toward the tables.

We both exhaled at the same time.

“I swear,” Marcel muttered, rubbing her temples. “One day, I’ll identally spill a drink on her. On purpose.”

I smiled weakly. “Don’t. She’ll probably make me clean it up.”

Marcel groaned as we walked together to the counter. She was the barista today, while I’ll be at the counter. “Sometimes I forget how nice you are, and then she reminds me why I shouldn’t be.”

“Don’t listen to her, Luna,” Marcel said after a while, her voice gentler now. “She’s just toxic.”

“It’s fine,” I said automatically.

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Chapter 297 Princess‘ Diner

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By the time I made it to the register, the evening rush had started. Marcel tied her apron tighter, slipping behind the espresso machine.

Before I could even turn on the register, a hand gripped my arm.

“You’rete,” my stepmom hissed under her breath.

I looked up to meet Queenie Lincoln’s cold eyes. “You wouldn’t be getting your sry today.”

I sighed.

“Useless,” she muttered, tightening her grip before letting go. “Make sure to stay after your shift.”

I turned to her, frowning. “For what?”

“For nothing,” she said. “Just follow through with what I said. At least then, you would be useful.”

My lips pressed into a line. I wanted to ask why she hated me so much and why she never even tried to hide it. But I already knew. I was the daughter of her husband’s first love, the one who came before her. A ghost she could never get rid of.

“Understood,” I said quietly before going to my post.

She clicked her tongue in satisfaction before walking off to greet customers again, her voice turning sweet as syrup. It was quite impressive how fast she could switch masks.

“Seriously,” Marcel muttered from behind me, shaking her head as she handed me a receipt. “You’re like the modern–day Cindere.”

Iughed softly under my breath. That wasn’t far too off, actually.

I was born to a loving mother and a father who loved her far itoo /imuch. They weren’t rich, but they were happy. We had this little diner–Luna’s Diner–named after me. I remember my mom’s voice echoing through the kitchen when I was little, calling my name as she made pancakes shaped like moons. She used to say, “The moon shines brightest in darknessb, /bmy Luna.”

But when I was six, everything changed.

My mother died of breast cancer. I was young, but I remembered everything. I saw my father crying for the first time in front of me, holding her hand long after she was gone. I thought time would heal him, but grief had a strange way of reshaping people.

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Chapter 297 Princess‘ Diner

He wasn’t the same for long–until one day, he was again, in a different manner.

He came home with a woman.

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She was beautiful, with blonde hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoomercial and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her name was Queenie Lincoln. She brought her daughter, Princess, who was my age, twelve at the time.

I was polite. My dad was happy. That was all that mattered ito /ime.

For a while, things seemed okay. I even tried to think of them as family. Queenie would bake sometimes, and Princess would share stories about her old school. We weren’t friends, but iwe /iweren’t enemies either.

Then, when I turned fourteen, my dad died in a car ident.

Just like that, everything that tied me to a sense of home was gone.

The will, the house, the diner–everything–ended up in Queenie’s hands. She didn’t even wait a week before changing the sign out front. Princess‘ Diner, it read in gaudy pink cursive. I still remember standing on the sidewalk, watching as the men reced the old sign with the

new one.

That was when I realized that Queenie had only ever tolerated me because of Without him, I was nothing more than a burden that came with a house.

my father.

We never had a great rtionship after that, and honestly, I stopped trying. It was obvious she didn’t like me. Neither did Princess.

They made me work at the diner as a condition for staying in our house. I wasn’t paid much, barely enough to get by. On top of that, they made me pay for my own tuition. So, yeah, I think you’d understand why I didn’t cry over Joshua Saint.

He was just another disappointment in a long list of them.

Speaking of him, Princess had been right. He really did show up tonight.

They sat together in one of the corner booths, whispering andughing. Then, without hesitation, they kissed–right there, in full view of the diner.

I merely shook my head as I wiped down the counter and went about my business. When they nced at me, probably waiting for some reaction, I gave them none.

They could suck faces for all I cared.

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Chapter 297 Princess‘ Diner

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Marcel, however, was fuming beside me. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered. “He’s doing this on purpose. He wants you to sec.”

I shook my head. “They’re not worth our time,” I said softly.

Marcel bit back her next words, then sighed. “You’re way too calm for this.”

I smiled. “Staying calm is my expertise.”

***

It was closing time by the time thest customer left. The scent of caramel syrup lingered faintly in the air, mingled with soap from where Marcel was washing cups.

“Are you sure you need to stay here?” Marcel asked, drying her hands with a towel. “Let’s go back together.”

I looked down at my phone. A single message glowed on the screen.

From: Queenie

Stay after your shift. You still have something to do.

I sighed and locked my phone. “I still have something to do,” I told her.

Marcel frowned. “What? We have ss tomorrow.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, forcing augh. “But I don’t want to go back home with her being pissy again.”

Marcel chuckled, tucking her hair under her cap. “Me too, honestly. I can’t even imagine. Good luck with that!”

She waved goodbye, slinging her bag over her shoulder. I watched her leave through the ss. doors, the bell chiming softly as it closed behind her. The sound lingered for a second too long.

And then, I was alone.

The silence felt heavier at night. I started wiping the counters again, humming quietly to fill the emptiness. Cleaning wasforting—it gave me a sense of control when everything else was unpredictable.

The neon sign outside flickered faintly, casting a soft pink glow across the empty booths. iI /iturned back to the counter, humming louder this time, when I heard the door open.

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Chapter 297 Princess‘ Diner

The bell chimed again.

My head lifted automatically. “We’re closed,” I called out, wiping my hands on a rag.

No answer.

Two men walked in.

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They didn’t look like customers. One of them had a scar along his jaw, while the other wore a cap low over his face.

I straightened up. “Sorry, we’re closed,” I repeated, firmer this time.

One of them smiled–a slow, unsettling curve of his lips. “That old woman was right,” he said. His voice was gravelly, like he’d smoked for years. “This really is a pretty one.”

I froze. “Excuse me?” fnb768 Checktest chapters at find?novel/fnb768

“Please leave,” I said, taking a step back toward the counter. My fingers hovered near the phone.

The man with the cap tilted his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think she’d be a pretty good price.”

Before I could react, pain exploded at the back of

my head.

My vision blurred, and the rag slipped from

my hand.

Thest thing I saw was the pink glow of the neon sign flickering–Princess‘ Diner–before everything went dark.