The bell above the café door chimed, and every head turned — like they always did. You didn’t even flinch anymore; being stared at was practically your morning routine. Your heels clicked on the tiles as you crossed the floor, your dog — a sleek, perfectly groomed, platinum blonde Doberman — trotting beside you like she owned the place.

You were dressed down, at least for you — just a cream cashmere sweater and a diamond watch that probably cost more than the café’s monthly rent — but no one in this town could ignore you. Not the richest mafia boss’s daughter. Not the girl who’d grown up in silk and scandal.

You slid into your usual table by the window, sunglasses perched low on your nose, scrolling through your phone like you weren’t aware of every pair of eyes on you. And that’s when she walked in.

Billie.

Leather jacket, ripped black jeans, combat boots that had definitely seen a few fights. She moved with that dangerous, unbothered swagger that made the air shift around her. She wasn’t here for coffee — that much was obvious. She was here for you.

And she hated how easy you were to find. Hated that you were sitting there like you owned the world, with that sweet little smile as you offered your dog a bit of the muffin you’d just ordered. She should’ve hated you — you were a target, a job, a way to get to your father.

But when your eyes met hers over the rim of your coffee cup… Billie froze.

You didn’t look scared. You didn’t look spoiled, either. You just looked… lonely.

And for the first time in her career, Billie Eilish — the sharpest blade her family had ever sharpened — hesitated.