POV Maxwell
The kitchen is wrong without her.
I stand at the pass during the dinner rush, watching plates leave my line with mechanical precision, and every single one tastes like ash. The hollandaise meets my specifications exactly.
The reductions achieve the consistency I demand.
None of it matters.
The conversation with Jared and Kobe from last night plays through my skull on repeat—security footage that damned us all, Adrian's smirk, that vial of spoiled liquid. We should have believed her. Instead, we threw her away like garbage.
"Chef, the arctic char for table nine is ready for inspection."
I blink back to the present. Jordan stands at my elbow, plate extended, waiting for approval I cannot summon the energy to give.
"Fine." The word comes out flat, hollow. "Send it."
Jordan hesitates, clearly unsettled by my lack of precision. I have never approved a dish without examining every element, demanding perfection from every molecule of food that leaves my kitchen.
But perfection feels meaningless now, and the hours crawl toward four o'clock when I can finally do the one thing that might provide any satisfaction.
Adrian arrives for his shift right on schedule. I am waiting at the kitchen entrance.
"Clean out your locker. You are terminated effective immediately."
His face cycles through confusion, outrage, and fear. "What the hell are you talking about? You can't fire me without cause."
"Security footage shows you tampering with Raegan's sauces." Each word drops like a hammer strike. "You poured something into her béarnaise while she consulted with me."
The blood drains from his face. "That footage could show anything. Maybe I was just stirring, or checking the temperature."
"You were holding a vial, Adrian. A vial you then pocketed." I step closer, and savage satisfaction burns through my veins as he shrinks back against the wall. "Did you think no one would ever review the security tapes?"
"This is bullshit." His voice rises, cracking with desperation. "You can't prove that vial contained anything harmful."
"Then explain why Raegan's sauces suddenly tasted rancid to a Michelin inspector." I watch him flinch with grim pleasure.
Adrian's expression hardens into something ugly.
"Fine. Yes, I did it. Because watching that unqualified bitch get praised every single day while I worked twice as hard drove me insane."
"Unqualified." The word tastes like poison. "Raegan has more talent in her smallest finger than you possess in your entire mediocre existence."
"She earned it on her back, and everyone knows it." Adrian's sneer makes my fists clench. "You think the kitchen hasn't noticed how cozy she gets with the bosses?"
The urge to break his jaw nearly overwhelms my self-control.
I force my hands to stay at my sides, force my breathing to remain steady, force myself to remember that assault charges would not help Raegan in any meaningful way.
"Get your things and leave. If you are not gone in ten minutes, I will ensure every restaurant in this city knows what kind of saboteur you are."
I watch him clean out his locker, and the satisfaction I expected never arrives. It fixes nothing.
Raegan is still gone. Her station stands empty.
Firing the man who destroyed her does not bring her back.
Adrian shoulders past me toward the exit, and I follow, unable to resist witnessing his final departure. He stops outside the service entrance, phone pressed to his ear.
"You promised me a position at Laurent's old place." Panic threads through his words like a fraying rope. "You said if I did this, you would take care of everything. That was the deal, Winnie. You cannot just abandon me now that everything went sideways."
My blood freezes solid in my veins at the name.
"I don't care that they found the footage. That's not my problem—it's yours." Adrian's voice rises with mounting desperation. "You approached me. You gave me the spoiled compound. This was your plan from the beginning, and now you're leaving me to take the fall alone?"
Silence.
Then a bitter laugh that echoes off the brick walls.
"Of course. Of course you're denying everything. That's what people like you do, isn't it? Use people like me and throw us away when we become inconvenient."
He kicks the dumpster.
"I hope Jared finds out exactly what kind of snake he's engaged to."
The call ends and Adrian disappears around the corner into the night.
Winnie orchestrated everything.
She recruited Adrian. She provided the means to destroy Raegan's sauces. She fed Jared poisoned information about the alley conversation with Armand.
Every single moment of our accusation was manufactured by a woman who saw Raegan as competition to be eliminated.
I am in my car and driving toward Brooklyn before the full weight of that revelation finishes settling into my bones. Scarlett's wine shop sits on a quiet corner, warm light spilling through windows decorated with hand-painted grape vines.
I push through the door at nine-fifteen, and her head snaps up from behind the counter with recognition that transforms immediately into fury.
"You have approximately thirty seconds to explain why you're in my shop before I throw this very expensive Bordeaux at your head."
She grips the bottle like a weapon, knuckles white against the glass.
"Actually, make it twenty seconds. I'm feeling generous tonight."
"I came to apologize." The words scrape past the tightness in my throat. "And to ask where Raegan is, because she won't answer any of our calls and I just learned that Winnie was behind everything."
"Apologize?" Scarlett laughs, and the sound holds zero humor. "You looked at the most loyal, hardworking, genuine person I have ever known and decided she was capable of betrayal. An apology doesn't begin to cover what you three did to her."
"I know." I meet her gaze. "We have security footage proving Adrian tampered with her sauces. We know she was innocent. We know we failed her completely, and nothing I say will change that."
"Congratulations on your detective work." Scarlett sets the bottle down, but her expression doesn't soften by even a fraction. "Too bad it came days too late to matter."
"How is she?"
The question escapes before I can filter it, desperate and raw in a way I never allow myself to sound.
"Elsie wouldn't tell Jared anything except that Raegan cries at night. I need to know if she's okay, even if she never wants to see any of us again."
Something shifts in Scarlett's fury.
Her shoulders drop slightly, and exhaustion bleeds through the anger, revealing the fear underneath.
"She's not okay, Maxwell." Her voice wavers despite her obvious effort to keep it steady. "She barely eats. She hasn't left her apartment since she walked out of your kitchen. Elsie is terrified because she doesn't know how to help, and I'm running out of ways to convince Rae that the world hasn't completely fallen apart around her."
The words carve through my chest like a blade finding the space between ribs.
"Tell me how to fix this." I step closer to the counter, hands spread in supplication. "Tell me what she needs."
Scarlett studies me for a long moment, and I see her weighing options behind those sharp blue eyes.
"You want to fix this?" Her jaw tightens with resolve. "Then you better figure out how to prove that your love is worth more than the damage you caused. Because right now, she doesn't believe anyone will ever choose her first."