Chapter 0232


    “On it,” he responds, jogging toward the pantry. He returns a few momentster, and we swap ces.


    “Make sure to turn the duck and sear it evenly,” I call out as I begin to mix the ingredients together to


    make the dough. “Use the red wine for moisture. Yeah, just like that, perfect…”


    …


    When the buzzer res, signaling the end of the round, I step back and take a look at my dish.


    It’s beautiful—each element perfectly executed, just like I rehearsed a million times in my head. The


    te practically glows under the stage lights, and I can’t help but feel a surge of pride course through


    my body.


    The judges make their way around, forks poised, eyes narrowed in concentration. I watch as they


    reach Daniel’s station. He stands tall, his chin held high, as they taste her creation. My heart pounds in


    my chest, each thud echoing my mounting anxiety.


    Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    Finally, theye to my station.


    “Hello,dies and gentlemen,” I say, pushing my te forward. “I hope you enjoy my rendition of duck


    paté en cro?te. I incorporated a hint of ck pepper into the pastry, which I believe adds a savory kick


    in a subtle way.”


    The first judge takes a bite and nods approvingly, her eyes meeting mine in a silentmunication of


    respect. The second judge, too, gives a nod.


    But then, there’s Logan—the Logan—chef extraordinaire and owner of some of the most renowned


    restaurants in the world. His gaze is piercing, almost disconcerting, as he takes a bite of my dish.


    The seconds stretch out like hours as he chews slowly, deliberately, his face unreadable. And then, a


    small grimace. My blood runs cold.


    “The texture’s off,” he says, setting down his fork. “And you could have used more seasoning. The


    ck pepper isn’t hiding your inadequate vor.”


    I feel like I’ve taken a punch to the gut. The judges move on, but I feel like I’m stuck in a haze, my


    throat copsing in on itself. This is only the first round, and yet I already feel like I’ve been tied to the


    whipping post, and Logan is doling out punishments over ck pepper and texture.


    Karl, sensing my disappointment, gently squeezes my arm. “Hey, it’s just one judge. His opinion


    doesn’t define everything,” he whispers as we return to our station.


    “I know, Karl,” I whisper. “But what if I make it to the next round and he hates my food again? It’ll only


    get harder from here.”


    Karl’s eyes lock onto mine. “Abby, you’re a brilliant chef. Onement doesn’t erase all the work


    you’ve put into this. Don’t let it mess with your head.”


    Despite hisforting words, the worry clings to me, sticky and persistent. What if Logan’s opinion


    sways the others? What if his critique is just foreshadowing the rest of thepetition?


    But then, finally, the judges return.


    My heart is in my throat as I look around. Bryan seems cool andposed, silent as usual. Daniel is


    standing with his arms folded, chin held high. Frederick is fidgeting slightly in his spot. New ch?pter


    av?ble o? Draмаnоvеls.cоm


    And me? I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin.