Page 64 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
"Now what? You'll run again?" There's an edge to his voice now.
"I don't know." The admission feels like giving up. "I just know I can't face everyone once this spreads. Ruth, Eleanor, Darlene... they'll all look at me differently."
Max runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "Or maybe they'll support you. Have you considered that possibility?"
"You don't understand what it's like to have your name dragged through the mud, to have everything you worked for taken from you." The words come out sharper than intended.
"You're right, I don't." His tone softens. "Talk to me." His voice is gentle but insistent. "Help me understand what you're afraid of."
"You know what I’m afraid of. Eric didn't just steal my work." The admission breaks from me like a dam giving way. "He systematically erased every contribution I made to BrewTech while positioning himself as the sole innovator."
Max remains quiet, letting me speak.
"When I confronted him, he was prepared." The memory still burns, humiliation fresh despite the passing years. "The next morning, the entire company received an email with doctoredlogs 'proving' I'd accessed protected files, copied proprietary algorithms, and attempted to sell them to competitors."
I pace the small space, needing to move as the story pours out. "It was meticulous, Max. Timestamps altered, access records manipulated—all pointing to me as the thief. Then came the internal investigation, the public statement about 'unfortunate corporate espionage,' the cease-and-desist letters threatening legal action if I spoke against the company."
"I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been."
"Without actual evidence of his theft, it was his word against mine. And he was the charismatic founder with powerful connections, while I was just a developer who'd gotten 'too ambitious and slept with the boss.’" Bitterness colors my words. "Within weeks, I couldn't get an interview anywhere in the industry. Former colleagues stopped returning my calls. Industry publications ran thinly sourced stories about the 'scandal at BrewTech.'"
Max's expression darkens with each detail. "Why didn't you fight back? Take legal action?"
"With what resources? Eric had company lawyers, family money, industry connections." I laugh without humor. "I had depleted savings and a reputation in tatters. The legal consultation I scraped together money for told me it would be years of costly litigation with minimal chance of success."
"So you left." Understanding fills his voice.
"I left. Changed career focus. Found Angel's Peak. Built something small but mine, something no one could steal." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the cottage. "And now your spotlight threatens to undo all of that."
Max steps closer, bridging the distance between us. "Lily, I had no idea the extent of what happened. I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault." The fight drains from me, leaving exhaustion in its wake. "But you need to understand why this publicity terrifies me."
"I do." He reaches for my hand, which I allow him to take. "But hiding isn't the solution."
Something in his tone shifts my defensive posture to one of alertness. "What does that mean?"
"It means you let Eric win." His words are gentle but direct. "You let his actions define your choices, limit your potential, and keep you small when you should be changing the industry that failed you."
The observation lands like a physical blow, too accurate to deflect but too painful to accept.
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" His thumb traces circles on my palm. "The woman who created those algorithms, who built that technology—she shouldn't be hiding in a mountain town, no matter how charming. She should be revolutionizing coffee science, patenting her innovations, forcing the industry to acknowledge her brilliance."
"You think I should just... what? March back to Silicon Valley and demand justice?" Anger flares, hot and protective. "It doesn't work that way."
"No, but letting fear of exposure dictate your choices isn't the answer either." Frustration edges into his voice. "You've built a fortress around yourself. I'm just suggesting that perhaps it's time to consider whether the walls are still protecting you or keeping you imprisoned."
"That's easy for you to say." I pull my hand away. "You've never had your entire identity stripped away, your credibility destroyed overnight."
"No, but I recognize someone running from their potential when I see it." His eyes hold mine, challenging rather thanaccusatory. "You're brilliant. Your technical knowledge, your coffee expertise, your business instincts—they're exceptional. And you're burying them in this town because you're afraid of being seen."
"I'm not afraid of being seen." The denial rings hollow even to my ears. "I'm afraid of being destroyed again."
"There's a difference between caution and hiding." Max runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the gesture. "What happened to you was criminal, and Eric should face consequences. But you letting it define your future is exactly what he wanted."
The truth in his words cuts deep, exposing fears I've refused to acknowledge. "You don't understand what it's like to lose everything you've worked for."
