The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 26

Chapter 19: The Last Coffee-1

+25 Points

The bell above the café door had long stopped chiming by the time Maya finally untied her apron.

Sunday shifts were always brutal, but today had been relentless. A coworker had called in sick, and with the extra six hours she’d picked up, Maya had been on her feet for nearly fourteen straight. Her legs ached, her shoulders burned, and even her breath felt heavy in her chest as she stepped

into the cool night air.

The sidewalks were quiet now. The streetlamps flickered overhead, casting long shadows on the pavement as Maya adjusted her worn backpack and began the long walk home. The city had its own rhythm at midnight – softer, but not silent. A few cars passed. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed. The breeze carried the faint scent of oil and old asphalt.

She walked fast.

Her sneakers barely made a sound, but every few steps, she felt… something. A flicker of unease. Like eyes on her back.

She slowed once, turned subtly to glance behind her.

Nothing.

Just dark windows and empty sidewalks.

Still, her heartbeat quickened. The kind of quiet that felt too still. Her hands curled around the strap of her bag tighter.

Probably nothing.

Still, she quickened her pace.

When she finally reached her building, her hand shook as she unlocked the door. Once it clicked open, she slipped inside and turned the lock behind her, chest heaving as the silence of the hallway greeted her.

Safe. She was safe.

Inside the apartment, it was dim and peaceful. Jamie was already asleep, curled beneath his blankets in the room down the hall. His breathing was soft, steady. Maya let herself exhale.

On the small table by the kitchen, a covered plate waited beneath a neatly folded note.

Ms. Janice.

“Eat this while it’s still warm, sweetheart. You work too hard.” – J.

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Chapter 19 The Last Coffee 1

Maya smiled faintly. The warmth of the gesture almost made her cry.

+25 Points

She lifted the lid. Steamed vegetables and garlic chicken over rice. Her stomach growled, but the

fatigue was heavier. She hadn’t eaten since a sandwich at lunch, but now even chewing felt like too

much work.

Damien’s voice echoed in her head:

“Don’t be late Monday.”

She closed the lid again, slid the meal into the fridge.

No time for dinner.

She moved on autopilot – clearing stray clutter from the living room, preparing Jamie’s meds for the morning, lining up his vitamin bottles and water on the counter. She laid out his favorite hoodie in case it got cold, then checked the apartment door one more time before retreating to her tiny

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