Chapter 2: The Men at the Door
Chapter 2: The Men at the Door
The grand dining room fell silent.
Every pair of eyes turned toward the entrance as the heavy oak doors slowly opened.
The head butler stepped aside without a word.
Two men walked in.
The first wore a tailored navy suit, silver hair neatly combed back, his expression calm but unmistakably authoritative.
The second carried a leather briefcase and wore the badge of one of the country's largest culinary foundations.
The socialite's smile disappeared.
"...Mr. Harrington?"
She nearly dropped her wine glass.
The older man didn't even acknowledge her.
Instead, he walked directly toward me.
"You called."
"Yes, sir."
He looked at the soup still dripping from my chef's jacket.
His jaw tightened.
"Who did this?"
No one answered.
The silence itself became the answer.
Finally, the woman lifted her chin.
"I did."
"He insulted this dinner with his ridiculous cooking."
Mr. Harrington looked at her for a long moment.
Then he quietly asked,
"Do you know who he is?"
She laughed nervously.
"A servant."
"No."
"My grandson."
The room froze.
Several investors nearly stood from their chairs.
Even the musicians stopped playing.
The wealthy hostess suddenly realized why the butler, the staff, and even the estate manager had always treated the teenage cook with unusual respect.
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He had never been hiding from privilege.
He had been hiding inside it.
