Chapter 2 - The Secret Hidden Inside the Collar
I had seen powerful men lose their temper before.
I had seen customers scream at waiters.
I had seen people threaten to leave bad reviews because their coffee was too hot or their eggs were cooked the wrong way.
But I had never seen a man like Derek Cannon go completely silent.
Not angry.
Not shouting.
Silent.
And somehow, that was worse.
The message on Oliver’s collar was still in his hand.
His fingers tightened around the small metal tag.
I watched his eyes move across the scratched words again and again, like he was trying to convince himself they weren’t real.
"Who is she?" I asked.
Derek didn’t answer.
The question seemed to pull him away from whatever memory had suddenly grabbed him.
One of his bodyguards looked toward the entrance.
Another looked at the windows.
They weren’t watching me anymore.
They were watching for danger.
That scared me more than Derek’s arrival.
Because whatever was happening had nothing to do with a missing cat anymore.
Derek finally looked at me.
"Where exactly did you find him?"
I crossed my arms.
"I already told you."
"I need the exact location."
His voice had changed.
Before, he sounded like a man demanding something that belonged to him.
Now, he sounded like someone searching for an answer.
"Around the alley behind the diner."
"When?"
"Three weeks ago."
"What day?"
I frowned.
"Why does that matter?"
His jaw tightened.
"Because I asked you a question."
I should have been intimidated.
A smarter person probably would have been.
But I had spent seven years running a diner alone.
I had dealt with angry suppliers.
Broken equipment.
Bills that arrived faster than money.
I had buried my father and still opened the diner the next morning because there were customers waiting.
Fear was something I understood.
But it was not something I obeyed.
"The day doesn’t matter," I said.
Derek stared at me.
"It matters."
"Why?"
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Oliver jumped down from my arms.
The entire room reacted.
Even Derek.
The cat walked across the counter slowly.
Not toward Derek.
Toward the old coffee machine.
He stopped beside it.
Then he looked back at me.
I had seen Oliver do strange things before.
But never like this.
It was almost like he was trying to lead me somewhere.
I followed him around the counter.
Derek watched closely.
"Your cat has been acting like this since he arrived," I said.
"My cat?"
Derek raised an eyebrow.
I looked at Oliver.
"Fine. Your cat."
A small smile almost appeared on Derek’s face.
Almost.
Then it disappeared.
Oliver stopped beside an old wooden cabinet near the back of the kitchen.
I stared.
I had never seen him go there before.
"What is it?" Derek asked.
"I don’t know."
I opened the cabinet.
Inside were old supplies, cleaning products, and boxes I hadn’t touched in months.
Oliver pushed his head toward one of the boxes.
I pulled it out.
It was an old cardboard box from my father’s things.
My chest tightened.
I had kept it after he died.
Not because there was anything valuable inside.
Because throwing it away felt like losing him twice.
I opened it carefully.
Inside were old receipts.
Photos.
A broken watch.
A few handwritten notes.
Derek stepped closer.
"What are you looking for?"
"I don’t know."
But then I saw it.
A photograph.
An old photograph I had never noticed before.
It showed my father standing outside the diner years ago.
He was younger.
Smiling.
And standing beside him was another man.
A man I didn’t recognize.
But Derek did.
His expression changed immediately.
"Where did you get this?"
I looked at him.
"From my father’s things."
"Who is that man?"
"I don’t know."
Derek took the photograph.
His hands were suddenly tense.
"His name was Michael."
I waited.
"Who was he?"
Derek looked at the picture.
"He was the man who saved my life."
That was not what I expected.
I looked between him and the photograph.
"Your life?"
Derek nodded slowly.
"Before people knew my name. Before anyone feared me. Before any of this."
He stopped.
"Michael was the only person who helped me when nobody else would."
I looked at Oliver.
The cat sat quietly beside us.
Listening.
Like he had brought us here for a reason.
"What does my father have to do with him?"
Derek didn’t answer immediately.
That worried me.
Because silence from Derek Cannon seemed to mean there was something he didn’t want to say.
Finally, he handed the photograph back.
"Your father knew more than he told you."
I felt something twist in my chest.
"No."
Derek looked surprised.
"No?"
"My father didn’t hide things from me."
But even as I said it, I remembered something.
The locked drawer in his office.
The one he never let me open.
The one he told me was "just old paperwork."
After he died, I found the key.
But I never opened it.
I couldn’t explain why.
Maybe because some part of me was afraid of what I would find.
Derek noticed my expression.
"You know something."
"No."
"You hesitated."
I looked away.
That was enough.
Derek stepped closer.
"June."
It was the first time he said my name.
Not like a stranger.
Not like an order.
Like he actually saw me.
"Where is the drawer?"
I froze.
"How did you know?"
His face became serious.
"Because Michael kept one too."
The diner suddenly felt smaller.
The walls felt closer.
I looked at Oliver.
The cat was staring toward the hallway.
Then he made a strange sound.
Not a meow.
A warning.
Everyone turned.
One of Derek’s men immediately reached inside his jacket.
Derek raised his hand.
"Wait."
The man stopped.
A few seconds passed.
Then something slid under the front door.
A small white envelope.
Nobody moved.
Derek’s bodyguards looked at him.
He walked toward it slowly.
Picked it up.
And the second he saw the handwriting on the front, his entire expression changed.
I had never seen fear on Derek Cannon’s face before.
Until that moment.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a single piece of paper.
He read it.
Then he looked at me.
Not at Oliver.
Not at the room.
At me.
"June..."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
He didn’t answer.
He handed me the paper.
My fingers shook as I took it.
There were only seven words written on it.
Seven words that made Derek bring four bodyguards into my diner.
Seven words that made Oliver run to me.
Seven words that proved my father had been hiding something from me.
The note said:
May you like
"Ask her what happened the night Michael disappeared."
And before I could ask who "her" was, the diner door opened behind me.
