For the first time, Denver’s most feared billionaire laughed inside the Midnight Owl Diner.
Harper looked through the front windows at the fading rain, then at the old photograph now tucked safely beneath the register.
The night had begun with her believing she had made the worst mistake of her working life.
She had insulted a billionaire.
Hung up on him.
Watched his driver lock the diner doors.
But the mistake had not been hanging up.
The mistake had been trusting someone else to tell her what belonged to her.
When the morning crowd arrived, Harper tied on a clean apron and unlocked the door herself.
The neon owl flickered above her.
For the first time, the click of the lock did not sound like a threat.
It sounded like ownership.
