Bridging World's

10

Sage

It’s been two days since I was discharged from the hospital, and two days since everything has gone back to square one with my husband.

Killian returns to his old routine—leaving for work early, coming home late. Just like he did in the first six months of our marriage. It's as though that fleeting moment of connection never happened. We’re back to the way we were, like strangers sharing the same house.

At the moment, I’m at my café, packing up the last of my things. I’ve got to move everything to my father’s garage until I can figure out where to set up next. The place is closed for good, and I’m still reeling from the thought of losing it.

Just then, the door chimes. I look up to see a tall man step inside. He’s dressed in an impeccably tailored black Armani suit, looking to be in his early forties.

“I’m sorry, the café’s closed,” I say, trying to be polite despite the fact I really want to be left alone.

“I’m aware, Ms. Villumsen… or should I call you Mrs. Rimaas?” His voice is low, rough around the edges, as if he's used to commanding attention wherever he goes. A small chuckle escapes him, but there’s something unsettling about the way he says my name.

My stomach tightens with unease. This man is intimidating, and what’s worse—I’m here alone. How does he even know my name?

“Ms. Villumsen is fine. But who are you?” I ask, trying to sound calm and confident, even though my nerves are on edge.

He smirks, a gesture that only adds to his unsettling aura. “Well, I’m the owner of this building. Or should I say… was?” He casually lowers himself into one of the chairs, resting his hands on the table like he owns the place—which, apparently, he did.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The owner? Here, now? This could be the chance I’ve been waiting for. “Please, sit,” he says, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.

I hesitate for a moment but then take a seat. Might as well. There’s a lot I need to clear up with him anyway.

“I was told I had until the end of the month to vacate this place,” I say, watching him closely. "Mr…?" I trail off, realizing I have no idea what his name is.

“Grey,” he supplies with a small, knowing smile.

“Right, Mr. Grey. As I said, I was given more time, and I’ll be out by then,” I say, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.

He leans back in the chair, his posture relaxed, like this whole conversation is a formality. “That’s not why I’m here, Ms. Villumsen. Look, I want to apologize for what happened with my men. I know you got hurt, and that was never the intention. I failed to instruct them properly on how to handle business matters.” He shrugs, as if he’s used to making and fixing mistakes on a whim. “As for the café, you won’t need to move after all.”

I blink, thrown completely off by his words. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he continues, his tone casual, “I’m no longer the owner of this building. And the new owner has no plans to use it for their own business. So, there’s no need for you to leave.”

A slow smile breaks across my face. Relief floods through me. I don’t have to close the café, after all. I don’t have to move. “I just came to let you know—and to apologize. So, I’m sorry,” he says simply, standing up to leave.

As Mr. Grey reaches the door, I can't let it go. “Wait,” I call out again. He stops and turns, his expression calm but curious.

“How did you know I was married?” I ask, trying to sound casual, though my heart is racing with the sudden need to understand.