Karl chuckles. The production assistant is waving her clipboard frantically,

checking her watch like we’re about to count down to an explosion. Karl takes

my hand and we run down the hall, bursting through the doors to the stage. The

assistant gestures to where our station is, all the way on the other end.

Composing ourselves, we walk stiffly onto the stage.

As we walk into the blinding lights, I can see the other contestants—waiting,

watching at their stations. Vanessa is watching from the judges’ stand, and for a

moment I expect her to shake her head with disappointment. But instead, she

shoots me a subtle wink and a thumbs-up. That alone is enough to make me

feel more at ease.

Enter title…

But then, just as we’re passing by the other stations, I hear it: Daniel’s voice, a

that cuts through the air, low enough so

hear.

mutters to his sous chef,

get

Honestly, she has no business being

face burns hot, a bristle of indignation bubbling beneath

me,

words.

should say something,” he growls, ready to pounce, but I grab his

him to

now. Not when

homemaker with no place in the kitchen, who needs

care of business.

I say firmly.

me a look as we approach our station. “And

you? Again?”

you to fight

know you

off.

search mine for a moment before

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