“On it,” he responds, jogging toward the pantry. He returns a few moments later,

and we swap places.

“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 blares, 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 plate practically glows under the stage lights, and I can’t

Enter title…

of pride course through

way around, forks

reach Daniel’s station. He stands tall,

high, as they taste her creation. My heart pounds in my

echoing my mounting anxiety.

they come to my

gentlemen,” I say, pushing my plate forward. “I hope

en croûte. I incorporated a hint of

believe adds a savory

first judge takes a bite and nods approvingly, her eyes meeting mine

second judge,

Logan—the Logan—chef extraordinaire and owner

in the world. His gaze is

a bite of

hours as he chews

then, a small

says, setting down

black pepper isn’t hiding

punch to the gut. The judges move on, but I feel

collapsing in on

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