The prep kitchen of *Vance* was a sanctuary of stainless steel and silence at five in the morning. For Sloane Mercer, this was the only time the restaurant truly belonged to her. Before the chaotic symphony of ticket printers, screaming pans, and clashing egos, there was only the meticulous rhythm o

The afternoon lull was the only time the kitchen breathed. The lunch service had ended, the dinner prep was just beginning, and the chaotic energy of the line simmered down to a low, manageable hum.

At the far end of the kitchen, Aria Sterling was staging a photoshoot. She had demanded a prep tabl

The climate-controlled wine cellar was the only truly quiet place left in the new flagship restaurant. Down here, surrounded by thousands of bottles of vintage Bordeaux, Barolo, and Chablis resting in their custom mahogany cradles, the frantic, echoing shouts of the upstairs kitchen were muffled int