Even back then, Damien Caldwell was already something of an enigma. Reporters chased after him constantly, yet none of them succeeded. He avoided publicity, turned down interviews, and slipped away whenever cameras appeared. He clearly disliked being in the spotlight. But I wasn’t willing to fail like everyone else. I wanted to be the one who got through to him.
So I came up with a plan.
I applied for a job at one of his cafés—as a barista.
Yes, I lied. At the time, I convinced myself it was harmless, just a professional tactic—a small disguise to secure an exclusive interview. But thinking about it now, I realize maybe that was where it all began… the lies, starting small and harmless, eventually growing into the tangled web I’m trapped in today.
For several weeks, I worked behind the counter, pretending to learn about coffee blends while secretly observing him. He visited often—tall and composed, usually carrying a book in one hand and an espresso in the other. He rarely spoke, keeping conversations brief, mostly with the manager. Customers whispered about him, but he always seemed distant, unreachable.