Miss Parker rose from the bed, smoothing her hair and adjusting her clothes as she prepared to leave for the restaurant. Julian had overheard her conversation with Jace but remained silent on the matter. He was still unraveling the enigma that was his new wife.

"Leaving already?" Julian asked, his voice casual.

"Yes," she replied curtly.

"I'm giving you just three days to move your things here and live with me properly-as husband and wife should."

She turned to face him, her expression inscrutable.

"I thought it's a secret marriage?. No one is supposed to see us together, remember?"

Julian scoffed, setting his coffee cup down on the table with a deliberate clink.

"You are my wife," he whispered, his tone laced with authority. "You should obey your husband. From now on, I'll be keeping a close eye on you. You should have thought twice before signing those papers."

A chill raced down Tyla's spine. Had she made a terrible mistake by marrying him? Yet, even as doubt gnawed at her, she couldn't tear her gaze from his strikingly handsome face. "Understood, hubby," she whispered back, a hint of defiance in her voice.

"Good girl," Julian replied firmly, taking another sip of his coffee.

Tyla sauntered out of the room. One of Julian's guards gestured for her to enter the waiting car. From the window, Julian watched her departure, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other cradling his cup. He had his own preparations to make.

At the restaurant, Tyla Parker-now Tyla Crestwood,stepped into her impeccably organized kitchen. Every ingredient was meticulously arranged, ready for use. She wasn't here to help Edna or her scheming partner Jace. No, this was her chance to reclaim her former glory as a renowned chef.

She had to create a dish that would impress the executives of The Golden Crest, known for their discerning palates-especially the manager and the CEO. Wait... she was married to the CEO. Would Julian be among them today?

"Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?" she muttered.

Rumors painted him as the devil of the culinary world-ruthless and impossible to please. She needed something innovative, far removed from the flavors they were accustomed to. Then it came to her: the one recipe her late father had taught her, Souvenir d'Enfance (Childhood Memory)the very dish that had secured her victory at the prestigious Bon Appétit competition in France.

"Yes," she resolved. "That's the one."

The executives arrived earlier than anticipated. As they settled in, an intoxicating aroma wafted from the kitchen, teasing their senses.

"We can't judge a dish by its aroma alone," Mr. Jackson Crestwood, Julian's father and chairman of The Golden Crest, remarked with a chuckle.

Soon, the plates were presented. Tyla had arranged her creation with the exquisite, signature plating she alone mastered-elegant and evocative, a true work of art.

"Jace, you're about to witness what I'm truly capable of," Tyla thought with a sly inner chuckle.

Edna entered the kitchen, apron tied and a small bandage wrapped around her wrist.

"Hi, Tyla," she said, her greeting dripping with mockery.

"Edna, I hope you win that gold medal again," Tyla shot back sarcastically.

"Thank you, Tyla. One day, I'll repay you for all your 'good deeds,'" Edna replied with a saccharine smile-referring not to kindness, but to her evil intentions towards her.

Tyla curved her lips into a knowing smile. "No need to repay me, Edna. Consider today my gift to you." It was more like a threat but Edna wouldn't think Tyla would do anything to her.

Edna carried the dishes to the executives' table. The plating alone was breathtaking, enough to make mouths water. And the taste-divine. It transported them back in time, evoking the warmth of home and the innocence of childhood. The beef was succulent and moist, melting on the tongue with flavors that lingered like a cherished memory.

Edna watched with smug satisfaction, basking in what she believed was her triumph.

"This brings back the taste of home," Mr. Jackson Crestwood said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "I can't remember the last time I savored something so comforting."

"This flavor... I've tasted it before, years ago," another executive murmured. "Where...?"

It hit him. "The Bon Appétit competition in France!"

"Ah, yes!" Mr. Crestwood exclaimed. "It was Tyla-the young chef who won that year. Her name escapes me now, but it is unforgettable. Did you create this?" He turned to Edna.

"Y-yes, sir," she stammered.

"Every chef leaves a signature in their cooking-that's what elevates them," Mr. Crestwood continued. "Tell us the name of this dish and share the recipe."

Edna froze. She hadn't anticipated questions. A true chef knows their creation inside out.

"Well... it's called..." she faltered.

Just then, Tyla emerged from the kitchen.

Jace tried to stop Tyla, but she slipped past him. With quiet determination, she walked to the table and faced the waiting executives.

"The name of the dish," she began, her voice steady, "is Souvenir d'Enfance-Childhood Memory. It's designed to soothe the mind, to strip away the weight of adult life and let us feel, even briefly, the joy and simplicity of childhood. My late father taught me this recipe before I left for the Bon Appétit competition in France. That dish won me the gold medal, and tonight I wanted to share it with all of you-so you could taste that same lightness, that same freedom from daily burdens."

A deep, resonant voice rose from the table. "Impressive."

Tyla's heart stuttered. She knew that voice instantly-Julian? He was here?

She looked up, searching the faces, but he turned his head away just as her gaze found him.

Mr. Jackson Crestwood leaned forward, studying her with sudden recognition. "Tyla Parker," he said warmly. "From the Bon Appétit competition in France. How could I forget? What happened? You haven't been cooking publicly for years."

"I have my reasons, sir," Tyla replied respectfully.

Mr. Crestwood's expression shifted as he turned to Jace. "Mr. Jace, we came here to finalize a contract. You told us Edna would be the face of the new restaurant-the head of the kitchen. So why was she trying to steal someone else's moment? The press is already circling for a story."

Jace opened his mouth, but no words came. Edna spoke first.

"She convinced me to stay out of the kitchen," Edna said smoothly, nodding toward Tyla.

A ripple of whispers spread through the room. All eyes turned to Tyla.

She hadn't expected this turn. Keeping her composure, she smiled faintly. "Edna fractured her wrist. I was asked to step in for her-as I've done before."

The whispers grew louder. Cameras flashed. So this isn't the first time?

Mr. Crestwood's brow furrowed. "You've been covering for her before?"

"Yes, sir," "This isn't the first time." Jace cuts in

He flashed a playful smile, as though lightening the mood. "Best friends shouldn't pick on each other like this-not when we have such an important deal on the table. Tyla isn't being fair here."

He turned to her, voice dripping with false disappointment. "You offered to help because you wanted to expose her? That's not right. You're my fiancée, Tyla. I have no reason to distrust you, but this behavior... If you're jealous that your friend is finally rising, you shouldn't handle it this way."

He paused, letting the words sink in. "You were so drunk last night that you pushed her down the stairs. That's how she broke her wrist. And now you volunteer to cook in her place-just to rob her of her own victory? Come on, Tyla. That's not nice."

Gasps and murmurs swept the hall. The narrative had flipped entirely; suddenly Tyla was the villain. Insults began to fly.

"She's heartless."

"Calls herself a friend and does this?"

"Trying to outshine her own best friend-pathetic."

Julian sat motionless, his face a mask of calm, but inside he was seething. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to intervene.

Edna allowed herself a small, wicked smirk. The plan had unraveled, but Jace had turned it perfectly to their advantage.

Mr. Crestwood looked at Tyla with open disgust. "Why would you do such a thing? If you want to build your own career, do it honestly-without dragging your friend down. I'm deeply disappointed."

Tyla stood frozen. This wasn't what she'd planned. Had Jace anticipated every move? Or had she simply been naive? Tears slipped down her cheeks unchecked.

One of the press photographers shoved a camera in her face, recording mercilessly. "You insolent bitch," he sneered. "Green-eyed monster. Attention-seeking little-"

A cold, commanding voice cut through the chaos. "Do you lack manners when speaking to a CEO?"

Every head swiveled. Julian rose from his seat and strode forward with lethal grace. The room fell silent under the weight of his presence.

He stopped in front of the photographer. "Your name?"

The man trembled. "M-Marcel."

"Marcel," Julian said, his tone icy, "you are forbidden from working anywhere in the United States from this moment forward. Your media page will be taken down-permanently."

Gasps echoed through the hall. They all knew who he was now: Julian, the industry devil.

Marcel dropped to the floor, begging, but Julian ignored him. He turned to face Jace with a disgust look on his face and then to Edna, if you fractured your wrist, while not sit back when someone else steps in for you? Rather you choose to come out with your friend's dish as though it was yours. He didn't say further in order not to raise suspicion. For a fleeting second, his eyes met Tyla's-intense, unreadable-before he turned and walked out of the restaurant without another word.

The room remained hushed, pity now directed at the ruined photographer.

Tyla stood tall amid the wreckage, a quiet pride warming her chest. He had protected her. That was what a man should do for his woman. Perhaps the rumors were true-he ruled through fear rather than love. Machiavelli would approve, she thought.

Her phone vibrated. A message appeared:

When you're coming home, let me know.

-Julian

A small smile touched her lips as she slipped the phone back into her pocket.

As she moved toward the exit, her gaze met Edna's and Jace's across the room. She held it steadily, her voice silent but clear in her own mind:

You think you've won today. But tomorrow is another story.

Tyla stepped out of the restaurant and quickly typed a reply to Julian: I'm already coming, hubby.

She tapped send, a wide smile spreading across her face. Without pausing, she typed again: Meet me at the coffee shop. She hit send once more.

Moments later, she stood in front of the coffee shop, waiting for his response. She refreshed her phone repeatedly, but no new message appeared. What was I thinking? she wondered. Just because he stood up for me today?

So many thoughts raced through her mind that she was startled by the sudden honk of a car horn.

She turned abruptly and walked toward the vehicle with a hopeful smile, only to feel a wave of disappointment when she saw who was behind the wheel.

He didn't come to pick me up? she muttered to herself.

He's too full of himself, she thought bitterly. What was I expecting? That the almighty Julian-the industry devil-would personally come for me? It's just a contract marriage. In six months, it'll all be over, and I'll know my fate. I can't imagine actually marrying him. He's heartless.

She climbed into the car. It was the same driver who had dropped her off earlier.

As she settled into the seat, the day's pain and exhaustion seemed to melt away. She couldn't wait to get home, take a hot bath, and sleep. But one nagging worry lingered.

What will Jace's next plan be? How am I going to deal with them?

Lost in thought, she was interrupted by the buzz of her phone. It was a message from an unknown sender.

An unknown sender? she thought, frowning.

She opened it. It was a photo.

A picture?

She tapped to enlarge it. The image was clear: Jace gently holding Edna's hand as he helped her down a flight of stairs. It had been taken recently-Edna was still wearing the same outfit from earlier, and so was Jace. They looked every bit the loving couple.

Isn't Jace supposed to be by my side? she thought angrily. Instead, he's with his mistress.

She tried to reply to the sender, but the number was private.

Then an idea struck her. What if this person is trying to help me? She could post the photo online and drag both Jace and Edna through the media storm.

She smiled at the thought, but curiosity followed. Who would send this to me?

She turned on her mobile data, and her screen immediately filled with harsh headlines.

Former Famous Chef Tyla Parker Tries to Steal the Glory of Chef Edna Brooks

At least she was trending-that was part of her plan. And this photo had arrived at the perfect moment.

Another headline caught her eye:

Julian Crestwood-the Industry Devil-Wrecks Photographer Marcel's Career: "He'll Never Work in America Again"

The article explained how Marcel had insulted Tyla at the contract signing in her family's restaurant, prompting Julian to intervene. In his words: "Don't you have respect for a CEO in her own right?"

Tyla smiled. Now she knew exactly what to do.

Beneath the posts were cruel comments aimed at her:

She's a green-eyed monster.

Why would she snitch on her friend?

Attention seeker.

She's desperate for fame since she's no longer a star.

Tyla's smile widened. Now it's time they learn Jace's true intentions. She would create a new anonymous account and post the photo of Jace and Edna.

Meanwhile, Jace escorted Edna to her apartment, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist like a devoted husband.

"What was that wench thinking?" Edna snapped, frustration lacing her voice.

"I thought you said she agreed to do it?"

"Why would she cook that dish when she knows I can't make it?"

"Tyla has bitten off more than she can chew," Edna said with finality.

"Maybe she's angry I didn't sign the marriage papers today," Jace suggested. "That might have pushed her to sabotage you."

"Don't worry," he added reassuringly. "I know how to handle Tyla."

"Still, the media is on our side now," Jace continued. "That makes you the victim. Tyla's the villain. You have nothing to fear."

"I want the contract, Jace," Edna said desperately. "I want it."

"You'll get it," he promised. "As long as I'm still with Tyla, we can't give up on our dreams now."

He cupped her face gently in his hands.

Edna pushed him away, uninterested.

"I want Tyla to make a public apology," she said firmly. "She needs to admit she caused everything. If she does that, The Golden Crest might reconsider me."

"You're her best friend," Jace pointed out. "You should apologize too. I'll persuade Tyla-it's only fair."

"She always listens to you," Edna said coldly. "She'll do it. She's nothing but bait."

"Of course I will," Jace murmured, his hands sliding from her waist to her hips. He pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her passionately.

Edna pushed him back again.

"Call her now," she ordered. "Tell her what we've decided."

Jace pulled out his phone and dialed Tyla's number.

Just as Tyla was about to create the new anonymous account, her phone rang.

The caller ID showed the one person she least expected to hear from tonight.