Chapter 7

The kitchen of L’Etoile was usually a symphony. A loud, aggressive symphony, but a coordinated one. Tonight, it was a catastrophic trainwreck.

Julian stood at the center of the pass, sweat beading on his forehead and soaking the collar of his pristine executive chef's coat. The ticket m

Chapter 8

The morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Café de l'Aube was a soft, buttery gold, casting a warm glow over the pristine marble tabletop. Clara Vance sat in a secluded corner booth, a bone-china cup of black coffee resting untouched beside a stack of legal docume

Chapter 9

The elevator ride to Seraphina Croft’s penthouse was a blur of humiliating, agonizing panic for Julian. He clutched his bruised wrist to his chest, his mind racing in a hundred different directions, unable to process the absolute absurdity of what had just happened at the café.

*Victor