Chapter 5 - Back to LA

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓5

✧༺✰༻✧

Back To LA....

***

"What?!" Aiden asked, completely stunned.

---

SIX YEARS LATER

HELEN'S SPECIALS – TORONTO

The restaurant was filled to the brim. Laughter, clinking plates, and the scent of freshly grilled food filled the air. Some customers ate quietly, others chatted excitedly—most of them stole glances at Salma, unable to ignore the beauty moving gracefully between tables.

"Here's your order. Enjoy," Salma said with a polite smile as she placed a plate in front of a customer.

"Your smile is beautiful," the man said, clearly enchanted.

"Thanks," she replied softly before hurrying back toward the kitchen.

Outside, a line was forming. People waited even though there were no seats left. The ones inside had no plans of leaving soon—they wanted to eat, stare, and stay.

Salma was used to it.

Helen had told her over and over again, "Stop serving customers like this. Focus on cooking. That's where your gift is."

It was true. Salma cooked just as well as Helen—maybe even better. Her food was the reason the restaurant always packed full.

"Are the twelve hamburgers for table five ready? They're losing patience," Andrew, one of the waiters, rushed in, looking like he was about to explode.

"Not yet. The last batch just finished," one of the chefs replied.

"Oh my God, they're gonna yell at me," Andrew groaned dramatically.

"Calm down, Andrew. I've got it," Salma said, laughing a little at his panic.

She quickly tied her apron tighter and moved like lightning—laying out ham on the grill, grabbing buns, sauces, vegetables, and seasoning. Her hands worked fast and confidently, like she had rehearsed this a thousand times.

Minutes later, she pushed the tray toward Andrew.

"You're a lifesaver," he grinned before rushing off.

Salma finally sat down for a moment, breathing out slowly.

This is her life now.

She went from being a flawless, worshipped beauty—surrounded by money, luxury, and emptiness—to a woman who works hard, laughs easily, and lives quietly. A commoner, maybe, but one who cooks with love, cares for her aunt, and raises her five-year-old princess with everything she has.

The entry door swung open.

A small girl ran inside, her tiny shoes tapping against the floor. Her black hair was tied into two neat pigtails, her features delicate and angelic, like something straight out of a painting. Her smile lit up the whole room.

"Mummy!" she yelled as she jumped into Salma's arms.

"My princess, you're back," Salma whispered lovingly as she hugged her.

Helen walked in behind her, breathing heavily but smiling.

"How was school today, Jassy?" Salma asked.

"It was great. A boy tried to mock my birthmark, so I punched him in the nose," Jasmine said proudly, grinning like she just won a trophy.

"What?!" Salma gasped, eyes wide.

Jasmine was beautiful, fragile-looking, and always dressed adorably… but her personality?

Chaos.

She was fearless, loud, and fiery. Nothing like Salma's soft and gentle nature. She spoke her mind and would defend herself—or her family—against anyone, no matter their size or age.

"That's why we took so long," Helen sighed. "I had to keep apologizing to the boy's parents."

"Grandma, I told you you were wasting your saliva on that brat," Jasmine said confidently. "He deserved it. Next time, I'll dislocate his arm."

The entire kitchen froze. Some stared. Some burst into laughter. Others just shook their heads like they'd seen this too many times.

"Jasmine," Salma said with a warning look.

"Sorry, Mommy," Jasmine pouted, widening her eyes and sticking out her lip like a sad puppy.

A very fake sad puppy.

Salma sighed but didn't fall for it. She knew her daughter too well.

"That trick won't work. No cartoons for a week."

Jasmine froze.

"What?! Mommy—!"

Salma stood up, cleaned her hands, and walked back to work. No arguments allowed.

"Grandma…" Jasmine whispered, hoping for backup.

"You said I wasted my saliva. Now you'll suffer alone," Helen shrugged and even stuck her tongue out.

Jasmine opened her mouth dramatically, offended.

"No one loves me in this house!" she declared like she was acting in a movie.

Everyone ignored her.

She stomped her feet, waiting for someone to pity her like usual. But no one did.

Finally, she sighed, crossed her arms, and decided she was done with them.

If they won't spoil her, then she would spoil herself.

She started sneaking toward the exit, tiptoeing like a spy—head low, eyes scanning for danger.

Just as she rushed out the doorway, she turned her head to look back—

—and BAM.

She collided with a customer who had just stood up, sending him crashing right onto a plate of unfinished food.

The entire restaurant gasped.

Lucian Ronan.

The name alone could make CEOs tremble, models swoon, and reporters scramble for a scoop.

He was one of the most powerful men in Canada—owner of the largest modeling agency in Toronto, and a man who wore power like a second skin.

But today?

His million-dollar suit dripped with sauce, shredded lettuce clung to his lapels, and his face… was pure rage.

He stood up slowly, eyes narrowing as he scanned the room to find the culprit. His fury was enough to silence the entire restaurant.

And then he saw her.

A tiny figure with big brown eyes and pasta in her hair. Jasmine.

His anger vanished like smoke.

"An angel," he whispered before he even realized he spoke.

Salma hurried across the room, heart pounding in her chest. She grabbed Jasmine, pulling her behind her like a shield.

As she lifted her eyes to face him, the world froze for a moment.

Their past slammed into both of them at once.

Lucian's expression shifted from astonishment… to a smirk.

"Well, well… Salma Rodriguez," he said, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Never thought I'd see you again."

Salma's stomach twisted. Her heart fluttered once—then hardened. Her eyes burned as she forced herself to stay steady. She knew this moment would come someday… she just hoped it wouldn't be now.

Lucian had once offered her the world. Money, fame, a place in his empire. She had refused him. She chose her dignity over his diamonds.

"If someone had told me this is where you'd end up," he chuckled coldly, glancing around the modest restaurant, "I wouldn't believe them. Life really is entertaining."

"I'm not surprised you enjoy seeing others fall," Salma shot back. Her voice trembled, not with fear... but with disgust.

"Relax," he said, shrugging. "I don't hold grudges."

"You're lying," she cut in sharply. "Just seeing you makes me want to burn my past all over again."

Lucian raised a brow. The smirk never left his lips.

"Fine then," he said as if this were business. "Pay for my suit. Right here, right now. Or I shut this place down."

"What?!" Helen's voice rang across the restaurant. She hurried forward, her breath uneven, eyes wide as she took in the situation.

"Sir… please, forgive my grandchild," she said, placing a hand on her chest.

Lucian held a hand up, almost amused.

"No. No forgiveness yet. Not when there's a better option."

He stepped forward, his height towering over them.

Salma stepped back.

"You're going to work for me," he said quietly, the firmness in his voice like steel. "Until you pay the full cost of my suit."

Salma froze. Her heart stopped.

"Absolutely not," Helen snapped, her voice trembling but firm. "She's not going back to that life. I'll pay you."

Lucian's eyes flickered with interest.

"Then pay me now," his voice grew sharp. "Unless…" His gaze slid mockingly to Salma's waist. "She's scared to show the stretch marks from childbirth. That would ruin the fantasy, wouldn't it?"

Salma's face fell. Heat surged behind her eyes. Jasmine clung to her leg, unaware of the war around her.

"Helen," Salma whispered, pulling her to the side. "How will you pay for this?"

Helen's eyes filled with pain and resolve.

"If it means giving up this restaurant, I'll do it," she said quietly. "I'm tired of seeing you suffer silently. I want you and Jasmine free. Truly free."

"No," Salma whispered. "You've given me everything. I won't let you lose what you fought for."

Helen opened her mouth to argue, but Salma was already moving.

She walked toward Lucian. Her steps were small, but her eyes burned with fire.

She stood tall, chin lifted.

"Fine," she said, voice steady even though her world was shaking. "I'll work for you."

Lucian smiled.

"I opened a new modeling agency in LA," Lucian said with effortless arrogance. "Pack your things. You're going back. And don't worry… your little wonder can come along." His lips curled into a smile that didn't meet his eyes. "A driver will pick you up at 9 a.m. tomorrow."

With that, he walked toward the door, his thousand-dollar shoes silent against the floor.

Salma watched him go, her heart sinking.

She knew exactly what he was doing.

This wasn't about the suit. Lucian was out for revenge. He wanted to drag her back into the world she swore to escape. A world that praised her beauty but destroyed her soul. He wanted her mocked. Used. Broken.

Jasmine tugged at her shirt.

"Mommy… are we going back to that bad place you hate?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Yes, baby…" Salma whispered, forcing herself to smile, even as her heart twisted. "But it's not that bad. I'll make it better this time."

Helen, standing nearby, covered her mouth silently. Her heart shattered, watching her grand daughter return to that nightmare. She wanted to go with them. To protect them both. But she had to stay behind—working and sending every dollar she could.

They needed her support.

THE NEXT MORNING – 9:00 A.M.

Salma stood outside Helen's little apartment. A single suitcase. Jasmine holding her hand. Helen beside her, trying to stay strong.

She wanted to cry. To scream. But she stayed still. Jasmine needed her to be brave.

A black SUV pulled up. The driver stepped out in silence.

Salma hugged Helen tightly.

"Stay safe," Helen whispered, her voice shaking.

"I'll protect her this time," Salma promised, her eyes locked onto Helen's

They pulled away.

The drive to the airport was painfully quiet. Jasmine eventually fell asleep on her lap—tiny, innocent, unaware of the storm ahead.

Soon, the flight took off.

LOS ANGELES – LAX INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Lucian stepped off the jet first. His bodyguards formed a wall around him as he strode confidently toward the exit. Salma followed behind, dragging her luggage and shooting daggers at his back.

She turned to lift Jasmine—

…but she was gone.

Her heart dropped.

"Jasmine?!" she called, voice cracking. She looked around frantically. Panic seized her chest.

Lucian turned sharply, seeing the terror in Salma's eyes.

"Find the girl," he ordered coldly.

Two men instantly ran off.

Salma didn't wait.

She sprinted.

She pushed through crowds, calling Jasmine's name over and over. Nothing else mattered.

AIRPORT EXIT – OUTSIDE

Little Jasmine sat calmly on a bench, playing with her doll. She hadn't gone far. She had gotten distracted and wandered off. Now, she was waiting, certain her mother would find her.

But she wasn't alone.

Three men watched her from a distance. Their eyes dark. Their steps slow.

Jasmine stiffened.

They were coming closer. Too close.

She clutched her doll.

Her eyes darted around, searching, panicking.

Then she ran.

Her small feet hit the pavement fast. The men followed, picking up pace. She didn't know where to go. Her heart roared in her ears.

Up ahead—a car door swung open.

Without thinking, she threw herself inside.

"HELP! They're trying to kidnap me!" she cried, breathing hard, eyes wide in fear.

A hand reached over and shut the door behind her.

Jasmine turned slowly—

—and met a cold gaze.

His jaw clenched. His eyes drifted past her to the men outside.

Jasmine blinked, confused.

"Oh hell no…" she muttered, then squinted at him.

"Wait. Who are you? Why do you look like someone who eats kids?"

He glared.

"Get your feet off my seat," he said flatly.

But then his eyes shifted. Those same men were rushing toward the car.

And his hand slid toward the ignition.

The engine roared.

He didn't take his eyes off the rearview mirror.

A shadowy black van pulled up behind them.

Jasmine swallowed hard.

He just finished running from a crowd of crazy fan girls now this.

He didn't know who the girl was, but he knew trouble when he saw it.

Jasmine bit her lip, staring at him with bold curiosity despite her fear.

"You better have snacks in this car," she muttered under her breath, "or I'm reporting you to the police."

Instead, he gripped the wheel.

Behind them, the doors of the black van swung open. Two men in suits stepped out, moving fast.

Jasmine's small fingers dug into the leather seat.

"Are… are they coming for us?" she whispered.

He didn't answer. His eyes narrowed.

Jasmine glanced between the men and then back at his stone-cold face.

"Mister," she whispered again, this time a little more desperate. "Please don't let them take me."

He remained silent.

But then—his hand slammed down on the gear stick.

The engine roared like a beast unleashed.

Without another word, he stepped on the pedal—

And the car shot forward like a bullet.

Jasmine screamed and grabbed the seat. Her doll tumbled to the floor. The airport blurred behind them.

"MISTER—WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME?!" she yelled.

TO BE CONTINUED... 🖤