CHAPTER 7

Marie Sue's POV

As soon as I stepped into the Kensington mansion, it was as though I had stepped into a completely different world. I stood there in awe at how high the ceiling was, many meters above me. Lara stood beside me and nudged me on the shoulder.

"Everyone gets that expression when they first step into this place," she said, smiling.

I looked at her.

"The architect who designed this building did so about a hundred and fifty years ago."

"A hundred and fifty years old?" I could hardly fathom how a building could be that old and still look so elegant.

"Your home is really beautiful, ma'am," I said.

"Thank you," she said. "Make yourself at home. I'll be right back in a minute."

She took one of the sets of stairs leading away from the sitting room. Jordan didn't say a word to me. He disappeared through another set of stairs.

Soon, I was alone in the sitting room. I looked around. Everything sparkled and shone. Even the sofa looked so expensive that sitting on it in my cheap clothes felt like an offense.

I looked around and imagined what it would feel like to live in this place and be the mistress of such a house.

"The maids don't have manners anymore," I heard someone say.

I turned around and saw the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on. Her figure was slim, her skin shone like glass, her jet-black hair was styled to perfection, and her lips curved into a distasteful hiss.

"Do you want to get fired?"

I rose, confused and embarrassed.

"I... I... I..." I said, stammering.

"You what?" she spat out, standing in front of me. "What's your name?" she asked, sizing me up with her eyes.

"Marie Sue," I said.

She repeated my name as though it were a disgusting blob of soup.

"Don't they teach you manners, Marie Sue?" she asked.

I wanted to explain to her that I wasn't a maid, but that I was Lara's guest.

"You don't understand," I started to say.

"What don't I understand?" She cut me short.

"Kylie," Lara called from the staircase, and I exhaled the pent-up air in my chest. "Don't bother my guest."

She looked from Lara to me and back to Lara.

"Your guest?" she asked, though she wore a pleasant smile this time.

"Yes," Lara said, descending the stairs. "That's Marie Sue, and she'll be working at the company as the head chef."

She reached my side.

"This is Kylie Brentwood," she said to me. "She and Jordan are good friends."

I bowed my head politely.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

She ignored my greeting.

"She's the daughter of Henry Sue," Lara continued.

She frowned. "You say his name like I'm supposed to know him. Who is he?"

Lara laughed.

"A renowned chef who would have been on the global stage, but he was too stubborn and would never share his recipes, no matter how much I tried to sway him."

She looked at me and smiled. She was right. My father was a stubborn man. He loved his restaurant so much that no amount of money could tempt him away from it. But that restaurant was on the brink of extinction now.

"So you think she'll be as good as her father?" Kylie asked, disgust still on her face as she looked at me.

Lara smiled. "Even better. I have no doubt."

"Then put her to a test," she said. "Let's see what she can do."

"That won't be necessary," Lara said.

"Why?" It was Jordan. "You trust her so much because she saved your life?"

Kylie raised a brow.

"Saved your life?" she asked.

Lara looked at me. "I know you can do outstandingly well, but they're right. We have to put you to a test."

I nodded and smiled. "I understand, ma'am."

She placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I know you'll do well. Everything you need will be provided to you in our state-of-the-art kitchen."

I nodded again and smiled. I was about to whip up the nastiest plate of spicy Thai basil chicken with jasmine rice they had ever tasted.

–

Fifty minutes in, and I knew there was trouble. Nothing seemed right.

The jasmine rice should have been light and fluffy by now, but it was unevenly cooked. Some grains were mushy while others still had a slight bite to them. The chicken wasn't caramelizing the way it should. Instead of developing a glossy coating from the sauce, it looked dull and watery. Even the aroma was wrong. The fragrant scent of garlic and basil should have filled the kitchen, but all I could smell was an odd sweetness.

I frowned and dipped the spoon into the sauce. One taste made me freeze.

This wasn't palm sugar. Someone had given me regular granulated sugar. I reached for another ingredient and stared at the bottle in disbelief. The dark soy sauce I had asked for had been replaced with light soy sauce, throwing off both the color and depth of flavor.

I checked the tray of ingredients again. The chilies were a different variety too, milder and almost useless for the fiery dish I was trying to prepare. How could a professional chef allow so many mistakes?

Then I turned to the stove. The flame was far too high. No wonder the sauce was reducing too quickly while the chicken remained improperly cooked. I adjusted the knob, only to discover it had been tampered with. The temperature indicator had been set incorrectly, making it appear lower than it actually was.

I slowly looked around the kitchen. This wasn't an accident.

I had to plate my dish, and I knew it was a mess.

"Are you okay?" someone said, stepping into the kitchen. "It's been a while, and I'm so hungry."

It was Kylie.

I looked up.

"I'm not ready. I've messed things up, and..."

I realized that telling her this was only making her more delighted.

"Serve up, Chef," she said with a smile. "The house is waiting."

I watched in desperate hope as the excitement on Lara's face turned into disappointment after the first bite.

"Not quite like I know it," she said, then moved on to taste the chicken. She ate in silence after that.

Jordan didn't hide his displeasure. "This isn't worthy of being attached to anyone's name," he said.

Kylie played with her food. "Not quite shocking," she said. "What did you expect from a chubby chef? I bet she got fat from eating all the food her customers rejected."

Lara shot her a look of disapproval. I felt like I had to defend myself. I stepped forward.

"I'm sorry I disappointed you, Lara. There were..." I stopped. "I take full responsibility, and I'd like to redeem myself."

She looked at me, but Jordan spoke before she could utter a word.

"There's no redemption here, Chef. You can be the judge of this. Would you employ anyone who made this?"

I looked at the plate, and the truth stared right at me. That wasn't me.

"No," I said.

"Good. We're done here."

He pushed back his chair and stood up. Kylie followed suit.

Lara stood up not long after. "Spend the night here, Marie. It's a long drive from the city. A room has been prepared for you."

And just like that, a dream that had been presented to me was gone. But I had to make a choice, to watch the chance I had taken away from me or to fight for it.

I decided to fight.