Chapter 1

The last thing I remembered was the heat of the stage lights and the bitter taste of defeat. Julian Vance, my mentor, my guide, stood beside Chloe Davies, my best friend, holding her hand up in victory. The television cameras zoomed in on her tear-streaked, happy face as she clutched the trophy. My trophy. The one she won using my family's recipes. I had screamed, I had accused, but they had all just looked at me with pity. The renowned food critic had shaken his head, disappointed.

My sabotage attempt, a desperate, clumsy move, had backfired spectacularly, sealing my reputation as a sore loser. My career was over before it began, my family' s legacy a joke. Humiliation burned through me, a fire that consumed everything until there was nothing left.

Then, I blinked.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the culinary academy' s main kitchen assaulted my eyes. The metallic scent of stainless steel and the sweet, warm aroma of sugar and butter filled the air. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, wild drumbeat. I looked down at my hands. They were steady, clean, holding a piping bag filled with lavender-infused buttercream.

To my left, Chloe Davies stood, her face a mask of nervous anticipation. To my right, a row of my fellow students watched with baited breath. And in front of us, at the head of the long steel table, stood Chef Julian Vance. His arms were crossed, his expression severe as he inspected the two cakes on display. Mine, a delicate lavender and honey creation. Chloe' s, a rich chocolate raspberry torte-the very first recipe she stole from my grandmother' s book.

I was back. I was back at the final presentation of our advanced patisserie course. The moment it all began. The moment the first crack in my world appeared.

"A fine effort from both of you," Chef Vance said, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet kitchen. He walked slowly, his eyes scanning every detail of the cakes. He was a legend in the culinary world, a man whose approval could make a career. He had been my mentor, the one who saw my potential. Or so I thought.

He stopped in front of my cake first. He picked up a fork, cut a small, precise slice, and brought it to his lips. He chewed thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. I held my breath, even though I knew what was coming.

Then he moved to Chloe' s. He repeated the process, but this time, a slow smile spread across his face. It was a smile of genuine delight, a smile he had never given my creations.

"Ava," he began, turning to me. His voice was clinical, detached. "Your technique is, as always, flawless. The structure is perfect, the glaze is immaculate. It is technically brilliant."

He paused. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

"But it has no soul."

The words hit me, just as they had the first time. A dull, familiar ache spread through my chest.

He then turned to Chloe, and his entire demeanor changed. His face softened, his eyes warmed. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Chloe," he said, his voice now full of paternal pride. "This... this is what baking is about. It' s not just about technique. It' s about feeling. This cake has heart. It tells a story. You have a true, innate gift, my dear. A talent that cannot be taught."

Chloe blushed, looking down at her shoes. "Thank you, Chef. It' s just an old family recipe."

A lie. A bold, effortless lie. That recipe wasn't from her family. It was from mine. I had shown it to her in confidence, excited to share a piece of my heritage.

Chef Vance declared Chloe the winner of the final project, the top student of the class. The other students applauded, some congratulating a beaming Chloe, others casting sympathetic glances my way.

I just stood there, watching him. I watched the way he squeezed Chloe' s shoulder, the proprietary gleam in his eye. It was different from how he used to look at her. Before, she was just another student, one he often criticized for her sloppy technique. Now, he looked at her as if she were a prodigy, his prodigy. I saw the shift, the deliberate elevation of her and the calculated dismissal of me.

And in that moment, I realized something horrifying. This wasn't just about Chloe' s envy. Julian was part of it. He had been part of it from the very beginning. His dismissal of my talent, his championing of her... it was a pattern. A pattern that led directly to my ruin in the life I' d left behind. The memory of his smug face on that television stage flooded my mind. He hadn' t just been a bystander to Chloe' s betrayal. He had been her accomplice. My determination hardened. This time, there would be no screaming, no desperate accusations. This time, I would be ready.