Eve's POV
The kitchen was alive.
Steam curled from saucepans, knives tapped in rhythmic precision against cutting boards, and the hiss of searing meat filled the air with a sharp, intoxicating scent. For Evelyn Roderigo, once Eve Ashbrook, this symphony was the sound of freedom.
She moved with ease now, weaving through the crowded kitchen like she had been born in it. Three months ago, she had arrived broken, stripped of everything, her name, her marriage, her sense of worth. But here, in Rodrigo’s restaurant, she had found rhythm again. The heat of the stove, the ache in her wrists after hours of chopping, the quiet pride in a plate finished with perfection, these things rebuilt her one day at a time.
Tonight was no different. A Friday night, the restaurant was packed to the brim, and
