Three Suitors: One Dream Man

Dirty Games?

Ember's Pov.

The break room was finally quiet, the kind of quiet that felt almost unfamiliar after a day filled with clanging metal, sharp voices, and relentless pressure, and as the noise of the kitchen faded into the background, I rolled my shoulders and winced, only then realizing how tense I had been all along, how much I had been carrying without even noticing, and the thought slipped into my mind again, steady and persistent just one night, Ember, one competition, and everything changes, a promise and a warning all at once.

The door creaked open and I didn’t need to look up to know who it was, but I did anyway, and there he stood Daniel Kent, calm as ever, like nothing in the world could shake him, two cups in his hand and that small knowing smile on his lips, and just like that, despite everything weighing on me, I found myself smiling too because he had that effect, effortless and grounding in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Perfect timing,” I said as I took the cup from him, our fingers brushing for a brief second that somehow lingered longer than it should have, warm and steady, and he sat beside me, closer than necessary, our knees touching without either of us moving away, like the silence between us was something familiar, something we both understood without saying it.

“You look exhausted,” he said, his voice soft but certain.

“That obvious?” I replied, letting out a quiet breath.

“You’ve had that same determined frown since you were thirteen.”

A small smirk tugged at my lips. “Still spying on me?”

“Someone has to.”

I glanced at him then, really looked at him, and the contrast settled in my mind again where Marcus was fire, loud and unpredictable and impossible to ignore, Daniel was control, stillness, the kind of presence that didn’t demand attention but held it anyway, the kind that made you feel seen whether you wanted to or not.

“You’re going to win tonight,” he said, and there was no hesitation, no doubt, just quiet certainty.

“You haven’t tasted the competition.”

“I don’t need to.”

Something in my chest tightened at that, and when I looked at him again, I realized he wasn’t watching the restaurant or the work I had poured myself into he was watching me, and that realization settled deeper than I was ready for.

“You rebuilt this place,” he continued. “You made it better.”

And that hit harder than it should have because he wasn’t wrong, and worse, he understood exactly what it had cost me to get here.

“Your dad would be proud.”

The words lingered between us, heavy and warm at the same time, making it harder to breathe, and before I could respond, his hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, gentle but lingering just a second too long.

“You worry too much,” he murmured.

Too close, too much, too dangerous.

I stood quickly, breaking the moment before it could become something I couldn’t control. “I should check the kitchen,” I said, needing distance more than anything, and as I moved toward the door, his voice followed me softly.

“Good luck… dear.”

I paused for half a second, just enough for that word to settle under my skin before I forced myself to keep walking.

By the time I arrived at Derrick James’ mansion later that evening, everything felt controlled, polished, quietly intimidating, the kind of place where power didn’t need to announce itself because it was already understood, already present in every detail.

“You need to be there early,” he said.

“I will.”

His gaze lingered on me. “You look nervous.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Your father had the same look.”

Something tightened in my chest at that, but I masked it, sitting down and smoothing my hands over my dress just to keep them steady, and as we spoke, it was mostly me talking while he listened the way he always did, patient and measured, like every word mattered.

“You’re doing an incredible job,” he said eventually, and for reasons I didn’t fully understand, that meant more than it should have.

“Your father trusted me to guide you.”

“I’m starting to think that was a lot of pressure.”

“It was,” he admitted calmly. “But you’ve made it worth it.”

I smiled faintly, but the tension didn’t leave.

“Who’s your biggest rival?” he asked.

“Luxoria Dining.”

There was a pause, small but noticeable.

“Ah.”

Something about that reaction felt off.

“You know them?”

“Their owner is… ambitious.”

Too vague, too careful, like he was choosing what not to say, and then he leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering just enough to shift the air between us.

“In business, rivals don’t start with war.”

My stomach tightened.

“They test you first.”

A chill slid down my spine.

“Before the real war begins.”

“Dirty games?” I asked quietly.

He nodded slowly. “But you’re stronger.”

I wanted to believe that, I really did.

Back at the restaurant, everything was ready, perfect in a way that almost felt unnatural, the kitchen gleaming, every station set, every detail in place, and it should have made me feel confident, but instead it made something uneasy settle in my chest.

Then my phone vibrated, sharp and sudden, cutting through everything.

“Ember… you need to see this.”

The tone alone made my heart drop, and as I opened the link, everything inside me went still.

“Luxoria Dining Exposes Sanitation Concerns at Ember & Thyme Before Tonight’s Competition.”

My chest tightened painfully as the words sank in unsafe food, failed inspections, health risks all lies, every single one of them, but it didn’t matter because headlines like that didn’t need truth, they just needed people to believe them.

“What happened?” Marcus demanded, stepping closer.

Daniel was already beside me, too fast, too alert.

I lifted my head slowly, anger burning through the shock. “Looks like our rival…” I said, my voice colder than I expected, “…just tried to destroy us.”

Marcus’s jaw clenched instantly, Daniel’s expression darkening with something sharp and dangerous beneath the surface, and somewhere across the city, Alex Dane had just made his move.

The name echoed in my mind...ambitious...and Derrick’s words followed right after, replaying too perfectly.

They test you first.

My breath caught as the realization settled in, heavy and undeniable.

This wasn’t random, nor luck.

This was planned, precise, personal.

Someone knew too much, details no outsider should have known, and as my gaze moved across the kitchen, over everything I had built and fought for, it finally landed on the people within it...Marcus, Daniel, the ones I trusted, the ones who had always been there...and for the first time that night, doubt slipped in, quiet but sharp, impossible to ignore.

Because if this was planned, then someone close to me had helped plan it.

Someone close to me… might have just betrayed me.