"The problem with Julian's duck breast wasn't the duck," Clara said, pacing in front of a massive glass whiteboard. "It was the cherry reduction. He insisted on using a port wine base because it sounded expensive on the menu. But it overpowered the meat. If we swap the port for a tart black plum and

"Read it again," Julian Thorne snapped, his hands gripping the edge of the stainless-steel prep counter so hard his knuckles were white.

Paul, his newly promoted executive sous-chef, swallowed hard. The young man looked terrified, holding an iPad like it was a live grenade. "Chef, I really don't t

The atmosphere inside *L’Étoile* had shifted from frantic panic to a suffocating, funereal gloom.

It was 11:30 PM. The last disgruntled customer had left an hour ago, demanding a refund on their way out the door. The kitchen staff had cleaned their stations in absolute, terrified silence and fled