Love's Ashes, Vengeance's Spark

nt, "The critic' s Table," a place I was set to inherit. Chloe was a food blogger, sharp and ambitious, and she saw something in me. Liam was with her that night

image. I was the artist; she was the one who sold the art. It seemed perfect. My father, a legendary critic whose palate was as famous as it was feared, was ske

from the illness that was slowly stealing his strength. "She wants to t

isten. I w

renovation and a partnership deal that would give her a

my chef' s coat. "Think of it. We' ll be an empire. You' ll be f

ompromising the foundation my father had built, all for a promise whispered in the dark. Her promises were a currency I accepted without checking the exchange rate.

eard voices from the dry storage room. Chloe' s voice, low and intimate, then Liam' s. I walked closer, my shoes silent on the tiled floor. The door was cr

ness meeting. It

of light from the doorway. My mind just stopped working. All the littl

d the d

their faces a mask

tammered, pulling

o a metal shelving unit. Sacks of flour and sugar burst open, sending a white cloud into the air. He shoved me back, and I st

! You' re crazy!

old ledgers, heard the commotion. He walked

here?" he demand

g Chloe with Liam. But Chloe saw her opportunity. Her eyes darted from

with fake fear. "He saw me talking to Liam and he j

chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He s

y anger vanishing, rep

ook that said, Now. Liam grabbed a fallen kitchen torch, the kind used for crème

my father. She didn't call for help. She grab

staff who were now running in. "Etha

licked at the walls, consuming my life, my dreams, my love. Everything turned to ash. My father' s hand went limp in mine. His labored breathing stopped. The wo