Chapter 2

The head of the culinary academy, a kind, older woman named Mrs. Peterson, walked over to me after the other students had dispersed. She placed a comforting hand on my arm.

"Ava, don' t be discouraged," she said softly. "Your work is exceptional. Julian can be... particular. He has his favorites."

Her words were meant to soothe, a small acknowledgment of the injustice I had just faced. In my past life, I had burst into tears at her kindness. This time, I just gave her a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Peterson. I appreciate that."

Just then, Julian walked by with Chloe, his arm still draped around her shoulder as if she were a prized racehorse. He overheard Mrs. Peterson' s comment and stopped, a disdainful sneer on his face.

"It' s not about favorites, Eleanor," he said sharply, his eyes locking onto me. "It' s about recognizing true artistry. Ava is a technician. Chloe is an artist. Some people have it, and some people don' t. It' s that simple."

Chloe looked uncomfortable for a second, a flicker of guilt in her eyes before it was replaced by a smug satisfaction. She was enjoying this, enjoying his public validation of her theft.

"Of course, Julian," Mrs. Peterson said, clearly not wanting a confrontation.

He wasn't finished. He looked directly at me, his voice dripping with condescension. "You have a long way to go, Ava. Perhaps you should learn a thing or two from Chloe. A little humility might do you some good."

Before, his words had crushed me. They had planted a seed of doubt that festered and grew, making me question my own abilities. But now, they were just noise. I knew my worth. And I knew his true character.

I met his gaze, my expression calm. "Thank you for the advice, Chef. But I think I' ll stick to my own path. Chloe' s success is hers to enjoy. It has nothing to do with me."

My composure seemed to surprise him. He expected tears or anger. He got neither. He grunted, a sound of annoyance, and then steered Chloe away, muttering about getting her a celebratory coffee.

As they walked away, I felt a cold resolve settle over me. I remembered everything. I remembered how Chloe had used that "win" as a springboard. How Julian had personally funded her first bakery. How she had rolled out my family' s recipes, one by one, each one hailed as her own unique creation. I remembered returning to my hometown, broken and defeated, only to see her bakery, "Chloe' s Creations," thriving on the legacy she had stolen from me. The memory of the local newspaper headline, "Hometown Girl Makes Good with Grandmother's Recipes," made my stomach churn with a rage I had thought long buried.

I needed to get out of there. I walked down the quiet hallway, my mind racing. I needed a plan. I couldn't let it happen again. As I passed Julian' s office, the door was slightly ajar. I heard their voices. I stopped, pressing myself against the wall, my heart pounding.

"Are you sure about this, Julian?" It was Chloe' s voice, laced with a rare thread of uncertainty. "What if Ava figures it out? The recipes are so specific."

Julian' s laugh was low and dismissive. "Let her. Who will believe her? A bitter, second-place student? I' ll make sure everyone knows you' re the real talent. Besides, it' s poetic justice, isn' t it?"

"What do you mean?" Chloe asked.

I leaned closer, straining to hear.

"My mentor, Chef Dubois, he spent his entire life in the shadow of Ava' s grandmother, Eleanor Reed," Julian said, his voice hardening with an old resentment I had never heard before. "Eleanor was the town darling, the 'baking prodigy.' Dubois was always second best. She beat him in every competition. He claimed she stole his signature technique for her famous lavender honey cake. Of course, no one believed him then, either. Everyone thought he was just a sore loser."

A cold shock went through me. My grandmother' s lavender honey cake. The one I had just made. The one he had called soulless.

"He was ruined," Julian continued, his voice thick with bitterness. "He died a broken man. Now, Eleanor' s granddaughter will know how it feels. A Reed will finally be put in her place by one of my students, using her own recipes. It' s perfect."

The air left my lungs. My blood ran cold. This wasn't just about Chloe' s jealousy or Julian' s professional judgment. This was a vendetta. A decades-old grudge he was projecting onto me. My entire life, my future, had been destroyed to settle a score that had nothing to do with me. The pain I felt was no longer just about a stolen recipe or a lost competition. It was about the malicious, calculated destruction of my family' s name, all for the sake of a bitter man' s revenge. The world tilted on its axis, and in that moment, my quest for vindication became a quest for justice.