From Asylum to Empire: Her Sweet Revenge

cesc

ears, my gaze fixed on the smoldering ash heap on the driv

g sun. "It's just a book, Francesca. We're moving forward. Yo

rned page, crinkled and black, lay on top. It was a recipe for my grandmother's app

hand as I touched the glowing

he page, crushing it completely.

save the last vestige of what was mine. My desp

his is childish. You're acting like a spoiled brat." He watched as

the pain in my hand a dull throb. The realization hit me then, a cold, hard truth: Antonio wasn't jus

ignited into a burning, furious fire. This wasn't j

needed someone on my side. Someone who knew the culinary world,

but clear. He was a man of integrity, a chef who respected true culinary ar

ok in his eyes. "Your talent, Francesca," he'd said, "it's pure. Don't let anyo

My phone was gone. My laptop. An

t was dusty, barely charged, but it worked. I typed Irvin's number, a number I knew

I need your help. I have something invaluable. My family's secret recipe book

t are you talking about?" His voice was

o make them pay, Irvin. I swear it. I'm going to watch everything they built crumble to

y. The silence stretched, h

eminder of the physical and em

y staring at the gaping hole where our memories once hung. He sauntered i

needs a new dish for her upcoming media tour. S

for her? After everything?" My voice wa

ed, my voice cracking. "How can you expe

ing deal is too big. We need to project an image of stability, of movin

rn. "Oh, Francesca, I know this is hard for you. But

ng my lips. "You call this strength? Eras

, Francesca. This is a simple request. C

oice rising. "What more can you take f

m mine. "You think this little 'rest' period was a holiday? I ca

n, the slow erasure of my mind. The irony was a twisted knife in my gut. I was a chef, my sanctuary

I'll make your dish." My eyes met Harlow's,

suggest you get to it. And don't disappoint us." He turned t

sly soft. "Where am I supposed to

hen. It's small, but it'll do. And don't bother us. We have important bu

ere I had first experimented with flavors as a child, where my grandmoth

oice raw with fury. "Get ou

y were right about you." He put an arm around Harlow, pulling her close, an

My hands trembled, not with fear, but with a cold, clear purpose. He thought he cou

emember e