The emergency room at Saint James Hospital hummed with its usual late-night activity. Alex sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his rented tuxedo jacket draped over the armrest, watching his father sleep off another drunk episode. Detective Brooks stood nearby, typing notes into his phone.
"He didn't hurt anyone," Alex said quietly. "Just made a scene."
"This time." Brooks pocketed his phone. "Your mother's finishing her shift in twenty minutes. Want me to stick around?"
Alex shook his head. After his father's outburst at the gala, Brooks had helped get him to the hospital without involving uniformed officers. It wasn't the first time the detective had helped manage Donny Cameron's episodes.
"The Weisers will use this," Brooks said, his voice low. "Jack's already spinning stories about scholarship students lacking proper breeding."
"Let him." Alex loosened his bow tie. "I'm used to it."
"Maybe. But are you used to having a Molton in your corner?"
Alex's hands stilled. Kate's quick thinking had redirected attention, given him the precious minutes needed to handle his father quietly. He hadn't expected that - hadn't expected any of this evening.
"She was just being kind," Alex said.
"Kind doesn't survive in their world without armor," Brooks replied. "Watch your back, kid. And hers."
Before Alex could respond, his phone buzzed. A message from Professor Harrison: "Board meeting tomorrow, 9 AM. Wear a tie."
Another buzz. Marcus: "Dude, you're trending. Call me."
With a sense of dread, Alex opened his social media. Sure enough, there were already posts about the incident. Most were subtle jabs about "maintaining standards" and "proper social elements." The Peterson twins had posted matching photos of Jack Weiser "saving the evening" by entertaining investors.
But there were other posts too. Someone had captured Kate at the microphone, commanding the room's attention. The photo caught her in profile, the red dress glowing under chandelier light, her expression determined. The caption read: "True leadership means seeing beyond surfaces. -EM"
Eleanor Molton. Alex had read her papers on corporate responsibility, but her reputation for fighting social battles was legendary.
"Your father's awake," a nurse called softly. "He's asking for you."
Alex stood, gathering his jacket. "Thanks for everything, Detective."
"One more thing," Brooks said. "The Weiser wine shipment manifest I mentioned last month? Numbers don't add up. If you hear anything at that coffee shop of yours..."
Alex nodded carefully. The Grind was popular with warehouse workers from the wine company's distribution center. He'd learned to listen while making their morning coffee.
In the treatment room, Donny Cameron looked small against the white sheets. His hands shook slightly as he reached for the water cup.
"I'm sorry, son," he whispered. "I just... I wanted to see you shine."
"I know, Dad." Alex helped him sit up. "But you can't keep doing this."
"Your mother... she's coming?"
"Her shift ends soon." Alex checked his phone again. Professor Harrison had sent another message: "Fellowship committee wants to meet you. Don't let tonight change anything."
But everything had already changed. He'd spent months carefully navigating between worlds - scholarship student, working barista, dutiful son. Now the walls between those worlds were crumbling.
His mother appeared in the doorway, still in her nurse's scrubs. Theresa Cameron looked exhausted, but her spine was straight as she assessed her husband's condition.
"You'll stay with your cousin Mike tonight," she told Donny, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll bring clothes in the morning."
"Theresa, please..."
"Not now." She turned to Alex. "Professor Harrison called the unit. Said to tell you the board meeting is mandatory."
Alex ran a hand through his hair. "Mom, about tonight-"
"Go home. Sleep." She touched his cheek gently. "And thank that girl for me."
"What girl?"
"Katherine Molton. Eleanor's granddaughter." A slight smile crossed her face. "Some of us remember what it means to have a Molton on your side."
Outside the hospital, the night air carried a hint of ocean. Alex loosened his tie completely, checking the time. Four hours until the board meeting. His laptop was still at The Grind, where he'd been preparing presentation materials before the gala.
A car slowed nearby - sleek, expensive, but not flashy. The window rolled down to reveal Eleanor Molton.
"Need a ride, Mr. Cameron?"
Alex hesitated. "I was heading to the coffee shop..."
"Perfect. I could use some real coffee." She opened the door. "We should talk."
The Grind was dark and quiet. Alex unlocked the side door, automatically starting the coffee routine. Eleanor settled at the counter, watching him work.
"Your mother's cookies," she said finally. "They always reminded me that real things survive."
Alex placed a cup before her. "You know my mother?"
"I know many things, young man. Including what Jack Weiser's trying to do with those social media posts." She sipped the coffee. "Perfect. Now, about tomorrow's board meeting..."
"Mrs. Molton-"
"Eleanor, please. And don't interrupt an old woman when she's plotting." Her eyes twinkled. "The fellowship committee needs convincing. Fortunately, I hold proxy votes for several members."
"Why would you help me?"
"Because talent deserves nurturing. Because barriers need breaking." She set down her cup. "And because my granddaughter has excellent taste in coffee shops."
Alex felt heat rise in his cheeks. "Kate was just being kind tonight."
"Katherine hasn't 'just' done anything in her life." Eleanor's voice softened. "She fights her battles quietly, but she fights them. Rather like you."
A noise outside made them both turn. Through the window, Alex caught a glimpse of someone moving in the shadows. Eleanor didn't seem surprised.
"Ah, right on schedule." She stood. "Detective Brooks's men are very predictable in their surveillance patterns. Especially when watching certain wine deliveries."
Alex's coffee cup stilled halfway to his lips. "You know about-"
"The irregularities in Weiser's shipping manifests? The strange patterns of their distribution routes?" Eleanor gathered her purse. "Knowledge is power, Mr. Cameron. Use it wisely."
She paused at the door. "The board meets at nine. Wear that navy tie you had on last week - it suits you better than the rental. And Alex?" Her smile turned sharp. "Sometimes the best way to fight isn't to throw punches, but to change the game entirely."
After she left, Alex sat in the quiet shop, surrounded by familiar smells of coffee and cookies. His phone buzzed again. Kate: "You didn't deserve any of that tonight. I'm sorry."
He started to reply, then stopped. What could he say? Thank you for saving my dignity? Sorry my drunk father crashed your party? Instead, he opened his laptop and began working on his fellowship presentation.
The sun was rising when he finally finished, painting The Grind's old windows in shades of gold. In a few hours, he'd face the board, defend his place in a world that often seemed determined to reject him. But for now, he let himself remember Kate in that red dress, standing up for what was right.
His phone buzzed one last time. Harrison: "Ready to make history?"
Alex smiled, thinking of Eleanor's words about changing the game. Maybe some barriers were meant to be broken, one cup of coffee, one board meeting, one quiet act of defiance at a time.
He began preparing the morning's first brew. After all, both revolutions and romances sometimes started with perfect coffee.