The chaos began around six.
What had started as a steady dinner rush quickly spiraled into disaster.
The orders were stacking, dishes were piling up, and angry murmurs began to echo from the dining hall. One after another, servers rushed into the kitchen with plates in hand.
“This steak’s undercooked!”
“The pasta sauce is too salty!”
“The risotto’s cold again, Chef!”
Matthew barked orders in frustration, his voice rising above the clatter of pans and plates. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His movements were frantic, uncoordinated, far from the precision the kitchen had become known for these past months.
Without Eve, the rhythm was gone.
She had been the silent conductor of Rodrigo’s kitchen, the heart that made the chaos flow like music. Every dish, every timing, every detail, she
