The silence in the kitchen was suddenly deafening.

Clara kept her chin tucked so firmly against her chest she could feel the fabric of her apron chafing her neck. Her hands, resting flat against the stainless steel counter, were rigid. Beside her, the massive industrial pot of bone broth continued

The elevator ride to the eighty-ninth floor felt like a slow, agonizing ascent to the gallows.

Clara Vance stood stiffly beside the stainless-steel serving cart, her reflection staring back at her in the polished mahogany paneling of the executive lift. Her white chef’s coat was crisp, her apron t

Clara practically threw herself out of the elevator when it reached the sub-basement kitchen. The heavy, humid air smelling of roasting garlic and industrial sanitizer hit her like a physical wall, grounding her instantly.

She pushed the cart into the dish pit, her hands trembling so badly the whe