Bleach. Its sharp smell stuck in Elena's throat, blending with the memory of last night's Sumatra roast. 5:47 AM. *The Bean Grinder* shone under fluorescent lights, with floors scrubbed to a risky shine and stainless steel gleaming, showing no trace of coffee stains. Yet, beneath the clean surface, tension buzzed like the overloaded fridge.
Leo checked the rat traps tucked behind the flour sacks. "Poison's set. Glue boards are by the back door." His voice was rough, and shadows hung under his eyes. They had scrubbed, fixed, and practiced lies for Inspector Delgado all night.
Elena adjusted her *Minion* apron, hiding the bandage on her wrist under the cuff. Her body ached, but the bond with Leo burned softly in her chest, a steady ember from their shared determination last night. "David's tip said 'check rat traps.' He wouldn't warn us unless the sabotage was elsewhere."
"Distraction," Leo agreed grimly. "He wants us focused here while he holds up Rossi's beans." His phone buzzed—a text from Marco Rossi:
> **Rossi:** *Truck broke down. Beans Tuesday. Maybe.*
*Damn David.* No beans meant no proof of "operational viability" for the inspector. Failure was certain.
The door jingled at 7:00 AM sharp. Inspector Rosa Delgado stepped in, clipboard in hand and sharp eyes behind frameless glasses. Her gaze quickly scanned the spotless café, lingering on Elena's designer shoes peeking out from under her faded denim apron.
"Mr. Carter." Her nod was brief. "And you must be the 'temporary help.' Elena Vance. I read about you." Her tone hinted at tabloid headlines.
"Elena's helping while my usual barista recovers from surgery," Leo lied smoothly, sliding a perfect espresso across the counter. "On the house, Inspector. Colombian Supremo."
*Supremo.* It was a gamble. The beans in the hopper were just cheap decaf—a stand-in.
Delgado ignored the coffee. "Permits. Food handler certificates. Pest control logs. Now."
Leo handed her a folder. Elena watched Delgado's eyes scan the documents, her pen tapping. *Tap. Tap. Tap.* Each tap echoed the countdown in Elena's mind. No beans. No proof of supply. David's trap was closing.
**The Inspection:**
1. **Fridge Temp:** Pass. (Leo had manipulated the thermostat display).
2. **Dishwasher Sanitizer:** Pass. (Bleach overload).
3. **Dry Storage:** Delgado paused at the flour sacks. "Rodent droppings." She pointed to tiny brown pellets *behind* the trap—pellets that hadn't been there an hour before.
Leo's jaw tensed. "Impossible. We just—"
"Evidence suggests poor pest control," Delgado said, noting it. "Critical violation."
Elena's bond flared—a spike of Leo's anger and fear. She struggled to keep calm. "Inspector, those look… placed. Fresh. Could someone have accessed the back alley?"
Delgado's smile was frosty. "Are you suggesting sabotage, Ms. Vance? From your… corporate partners, perhaps?"
The accusation hung heavy. David's reach stretched further than they had thought.
4. **Proof of Supply:** "Your license requires verified, traceable coffee sources," Delgado said, flipping a page. "Invoice for your current beans?"
Leo hesitated. "Delivery's delayed. Truck issue. We have receipts for last week's—"
"Current stock only." Delgado's pen hovered over the form. "No verifiable supply chain means…"
**FAILURE.** The word screamed in Elena's mind. Closure. Fines. Leo's dream crushed. David's victory.
The bond surged, not with warmth, but with a desperate, crackling energy. It flowed between them, visible in the way their eyes locked—a silent plea. *Think!*
Elena's hand flew to her chest, where her soulmate receipt lay hidden beneath her shirt. It hummed against her skin, responding to the bond's distress. *Proof.*
"Wait!" Elena blurted. She reached under her apron, not for the receipt, but for her phone. She pulled up a photo—a blurry snapshot of the sacks of Sumatra from Rossi's warehouse, timestamped 3:15 AM. Leo stood beside them, giving a tired thumbs-up. "The beans *are* secured. Here's proof of purchase. Delivery was delayed by…" She met Delgado's skeptical gaze. "...by unforeseen delays. But they're paid for and on the way. Mr. Rossi can verify." She hoped Marco wouldn't hang up on a health inspector.
Delgado studied the photo. "This proves nothing except bags in a warehouse. Where's the invoice?"
"Rossi deals cash only," Leo interjected, the energy from the bond backing his quick thinking. "The invoice comes with delivery. It's standard for small-batch, premium suppliers avoiding corporate fees." He gestured vaguely at Elena, suggesting she understood corporate greed.
The bond flared hotter, pushing Elena. *More. Risk it.*
"There's… another proof," Elena said, her voice shaking slightly. She pulled the chain from under her shirt. Her soulmate receipt dangled—a worn slip glowing faintly, responding to Leo's closeness and their shared adrenaline. "This is our Registry receipt. It confirms our… partnership. Leo wouldn't risk this bond by lying about something that could ruin his café."
The air crackled. Delgado stared at the softly glowing receipt—a real piece of the city's magical rules. Her stern face flickered. Surprise? Recognition?
"You'd stake your soulmate bond on this bean delivery?" Delgado asked quietly.
Elena didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Leo's hand found hers under the counter. Skin touched skin.
**IGNITION.**
The bond didn't just flare—it **detonated**. Golden light, visible this time, burst from their joined hands, flooding the café with a warm, pulsing glow. The receipt shone like a tiny sun. It wasn't just warmth; it was *truth*, resonating in the air—undeniable, pure.
Delgado stumbled back, shielding her eyes. The sterile inspection forms flew off her clipboard.
The light faded quickly, leaving a lingering glow in the air and a heavy silence. Elena swayed, the massive energy drain striking her like a blow. Leo held her hand tighter, grounding her.
Inspector Delgado lowered her hand. Her eyes, wide behind her glasses, showed no frost now, only shock. She looked from the still-glowing receipt in Elena's hand to their clasped hands, then to the spotless café. She bent down, picked up her clipboard, and carefully brushed off the forms.
"Registry receipts don't lie," she murmured, almost to herself. She made a final note on her form, her pen moving decisively. "Supply chain verification… pending delivery confirmation. Follow-up inspection in 48 hours." She looked at Leo, then at Elena. "Fix that back door lock. Rodent access point." She slid her card across the counter. "Call me when the beans arrive. *Directly*."
She left without another word, the bell's chime echoing in the stunned silence.
The moment the door closed, Leo spun Elena around. "What the hell was that? You could have—"
His words stopped when he saw her face. She was pale, shaking violently, her skin cold. The glow from the receipt had faded entirely, making it look fragile, almost burned at the edges. The bond, moments before a supernova, was now a feeble flicker deep within her chest.
"Elena?" Leo's voice trembled with fear.
She tried to speak, to comfort him, but the room spun violently. The victorious energy, the risky gamble, the sheer *cost* of forcing the bond to show truth… it overwhelmed her.
Her knees buckled.
Leo caught her before she hit the shining floor. He held her against his chest, her skin icy despite the café's warmth. Her receipt slipped from her limp fingers, drifting to the floor like a fallen leaf.
"Elena!" His shout was frantic. He fumbled for his phone, dialing 911 with trembling hands, his eyes fixed on her still face, the bond's light within her dimming… dimming…
Outside, unnoticed by Leo, David Chen lowered his long-lens camera from the alley window. He examined the shot: Elena collapsed in Leo's arms, the charred soulmate receipt on the floor between them. He smiled. Perfect.
*The bond wasn't just broken.*
*It was killing her.*