Chapter 20: Explosive Statement I ignored Demitra’s calming presence completely. Like her voice was just static. Mindfulness, zen, all that shit – it hadn't worked in Central Park, it wasn't working now. It was bullshit. Rich’s hand clamped down on my arm, trying to hold me back. "Jim, don't. Please." "Get off me, Rich," I said, my voice low and dangerous. I shrugged him off like he was a fly. I wasn't listening to reason. Not tonight. He knew that tone. The one that said I was past the point of no return. He loosened his grip, but stayed close, a resigned look on his face. I pushed past him, heading straight for the café. The bell above the door jingled uselessly as I shouldered my way inside, the noise barely registering over the roaring in my ears. The air was thick with the smell of coffee and pastries, a nauseatingly sweet aroma that made my stomach churn. I saw them immediately. Valeria and Miguel, at a small table near the window. They were laughing, their hands intertwined on the table. Their faces were close, and Miguel’s eyes were trained on her lips. My blood boiled. It was a tableau of domestic bliss, a perfect picture of happiness. A happiness that was built on my pain. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to rip them apart. To unleash the rage that had been building inside me for days, weeks maybe. To make them feel the same agony I was feeling. But I knew that wasn’t the answer. Not anymore. That’s what I had almost done with that girl at LeBron’s penthouse. That’s what had scared me to my core. I needed to hurt them, but not physically. I needed to wound them, to expose them, to make them pay for their betrayal. I strode directly toward their table, my footsteps echoing in the sudden silence that had fallen over the café. All eyes were on me, and I didn't give a fuck. I stopped right in front of them, looming over their cozy little date. Valeria’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in anger. "Jim? What are you doing here?" Miguel looked confused, then defensive. He started to rise from his chair. "Who the hell is this?" I ignored him. My focus was solely on Valeria. On the girl who had sworn she loved me, who had promised me her trust. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The same phone I had used to text her sweet nothings, to take pictures of her smiling face, to plan our future together. Now, it was a weapon. I held it up for a moment, letting them see the expensive device, a status symbol, a representation of everything I had worked for. Then, without a word, I threw it down on the table. Hard. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks, the force of the impact making Valeria jump. A collective gasp went up from the other patrons in the café. The phone bounced once, then settled, a useless piece of technology amidst the ruins of my heart. “Here’s your fifteen minutes,” I snarled, my voice dripping with venom. I gestured to the broken phone, then to their stunned faces. "Enjoy the fame." Miguel finally found his voice, anger hardening his features. "You’re crazy, man! What the fuck is wrong with you?" I turned my attention to him, my eyes blazing. "You really want to know what’s wrong, Miguel? Ask your girlfriend." I reached out and grabbed a water glass from their table. It was half-full, the condensation cold against my palm. I lifted it high, then splashed the contents directly into Miguel’s face. He sputtered and choked, wiping the water from his eyes. Valeria gasped, reaching out to comfort him. "You fucking asshole!" Miguel roared, lunging at me. I didn't flinch. I stood my ground, my fists clenched at my sides. I was ready for him. Ready for anything. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a fight. That’s what he wanted. That’s what Valeria wanted. To drag me down to their level. I had a better idea. With a swift motion, I reached out and flipped the table over. Coffee cups crashed to the floor, sending hot, dark liquid splattering across the pristine tile. Pastries went flying, landing in a sticky mess on the floor and against the walls. The entire scene was instantly transformed from a cozy date into a chaotic disaster. Valeria screamed, jumping back to avoid the mess. Miguel swore, stumbling back as the table crashed down. I didn't wait to see their reactions. I turned and walked away, my head held high. I ignored the stares of the other patrons, the gasps of shock, the rising murmur of voices. I had made my statement. As I reached the door, I heard Miguel shout something after me, a string of Spanish curses that I couldn’t quite make out. I just smirked, pushing my way back out onto the street. Rich was waiting for me, his face a mask of concern and exasperation. He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me away from the chaos. "Jim, what the hell did you do?!" "I made a point, Rich," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "A very clear point." He pulled me harder, steering me down the sidewalk. "We need to get out of here. Now." As we walked, I could hear the sounds of the café erupting behind us. Shouts, screams, the shattering of glass. And then, the unmistakable wail of police sirens. I glanced back at the café, a small smile playing on my lips. The flashing lights of the police cars were reflecting off the windows, casting an eerie glow over the scene. I knew I had crossed a line. I knew I was in trouble. But I didn’t care. I had sent a message. And it had been received. I let Rich pull me away, my smirk widening as we walked faster. I knew that whatever came next, it wouldn’t be boring. The only thing I cared about was that I had sent a message to both of them. … He’s made a statement.