Chapter 3

The memory of that night was seared into my brain. The Annual Chicago Gourmet Gala. Our restaurant was up for a major award.

I'd personally overseen the preparation of the confit duck, Jake's supposed masterpiece – a recipe I'd spent months perfecting in my tiny apartment kitchen.

Then the first reports came in. Vomiting. Cramps. Anaphylactic shock.

Important critics, city officials, all struck down.

Sophia had been by Jake's side, her face a mask of concern, as he addressed the health inspectors. She'd "found" a half-empty container of cheap, peanut-contaminated oil tucked away behind my station.

"I can't believe she would be so careless," Sophia had whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "She's been a little... stressed lately."

Jake hadn't met my eyes. He'd just nodded gravely. "Emily has been under a lot of pressure."

The next day, the restaurant's lawyers called. My contract was terminated.

I'd found Sophia in the staff locker room, humming as she polished her new Tiffany necklace.

"Heard you're leaving," she'd said, not a trace of sympathy in her voice. "Such a shame. You had potential."

I'd confronted Jake later that night, in the alley behind the restaurant.

He'd looked away, kicking at a loose piece of gravel. "Em, the evidence... it's pretty damning. Sophia said she saw you acting suspiciously around the prep area."

"And you believe her?" My voice broke.

"It's not about belief, Em. It's about the restaurant. My reputation. We can't afford a scandal."

He'd fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a crumpled envelope. "Here. Severance. It's not much, but..."

I hadn't taken it.

I'd just stared at him, the man I'd given everything to.

"So, that's it?"

He finally looked at me, a flicker of something – guilt? – in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Em. Maybe... maybe this is for the best."

He'd turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with the stench of garbage and betrayal.

Now, outside the brightly lit hotel, Jake was still on one knee.

"Emily, please," he said, his voice cracking. "I was a fool. A coward. Sophia manipulated me."

"Sophia?" I asked, my voice dangerously soft. "Or was it your ambition, Jake?"

He flinched.

"I know I don't deserve you," he said, his eyes pleading. "But I can spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you."

He tried to take my hand. I pulled it back.

"No, Jake."