"Good morning, everyone!" I greeted as I stepped into the main kitchen.
A scattered chorus of "Morning" followed, most of it flat and half-hearted.
Except for one voice, bright and chipper.
"Hey, good morning!"
I turned to see a woman in her mid-twenties, all smiles and warmth. Her brown hair was tied up in a neat bun, and her slightly round cheeks gave her an endearing glow.
"Tanya," I smiled. "Good to see you."
She'd been my first friend when I joined this hotel three years ago. Somehow, amidst the chaos of clanging pans and stress sweat, we'd grown close. She was the type of person who could light up a room with nothing more than a hello.
"Have you decided to starve yourself to death?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me like a stern teacher. "You skipped breakfast again, didn't you?"
I sighed, caught red-handed. "Guilty."
"Knew it." She handed me a small plate, toast, sunny-side-up eggs, and a few sausages, still warm. "Eat or I'll personally drag you to the doctor."
"You're such a busybody," I said, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips.
But the truth was, Tanya genuinely cared, not just in the casual, workplace-friendly way. People like her were rare. I sometimes wished I could find a nanny half as warm-hearted; then I'd never have to worry about Twen while I was at work.
I worked in The Grandé, one of the flagship restaurants in the hotel, a multi-cuisine restaurant, famously busy during breakfast and dinner hours, when most guests came to dine.
I slipped on my apron and shoes, then tucked my hair under a sanitary cap. As Sous Chef, one of my daily duties was briefing the junior chefs and checking prep lines before service. The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I could already tell—today was going to be a storm.
***
It was nearly midnight by the time my shift ended.
Seriously, what do guests even eat this late?
I was packing up when I spotted my executive chef walking toward me—Chef Samuel. A large man with a round, gentle face, neatly trimmed beard, and kind eyes that somehow stayed warm even in the heat of a kitchen.
"Good evening, Chef Samuel," I greeted with a tired grin.
He rubbed his nose, looking oddly sheepish. "Evening, Tony. Everything going well?"
"Brilliant," I replied, keeping my tone upbeat.
"That's good." He hesitated. "Tony… I have some news."
I raised a brow. "Okay?"
"You've heard of the new Exquisite Resort—Elegance?" he asked, voice dipping into a nervous rhythm.
"Sure," I said cautiously.
"Well, the General Manager decided to transfer some of our experienced chefs to help train the new team over there. I… recommended you, and it's been approved. You're being transferred."
I blinked. "What? But I only have three years of experience."
"Yes, in The Grandé, but your résumé includes prior work, and you've made Sous Chef in record time. That doesn't happen by chance, Tony. You're talented, reliable, and good with people. That's exactly what they need."
I ran a hand down my face. "Sam, the issue isn't my ability. It's the distance. The resort's practically outside the city, it's a tourist zone. I have a son to think about."
"I know," he said, his voice turning serious. "But your accommodation will be near Twen's school. If you'd like, I can personally take care of his school pickup and drop-off. I promise."
I frowned, rubbing my forehead. This was too much, too fast. Just when things were starting to feel stable…
"Do I have a choice?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Uhh… no," Samuel admitted with an apologetic smile.
Great.
I sighed and gave a wry smile. "When's the transfer?"
"Next month. Start packing when you can. And if you need help with Twen, he can stay with me for a while."
That offer, though tempting, was something I couldn't accept.
"No. He stays with me. But thank you, Sam… I'll take you up on the drop-offs."
Samuel nodded. "Of course."
I slung my bag over my shoulder and shook my head with a tired chuckle. "Rich people. Why open a new resort when there are already a dozen hotels in the city?"
He laughed softly. "Actually, this wasn't the Chairman's idea. The CEO, his son proposed the Elegance project. Supposedly, the Chairman is testing him. He gave him two years to make the place a success."
I rolled my eyes. "These people are ridiculous. If it's a family business, just teach your kid how to run it. What's with all this proving nonsense? Assuming the son even wants the business in the first place…"
"I don't pretend to understand them either," Samuel said with a small shrug.
"Well, I'll take my leave," I said, waving tiredly.
"Take care, Tony. Give my love to Twen."
I nodded, the warmth in his words lingering as I walked out. Chef Samuel had always been one of the few who treated me without prejudice. He'd never once judged me for being an Omega, for being a single parent, or for hiding behind a Beta registration. He saw my work. That was all that mattered.
So when he asked me to take this transfer, how could I say no?
Every opportunity he'd offered me so far had helped me grow. Maybe this one would, too.
"Transfer, huh?" I murmured, sliding into my car, and the engine hummed to life.
No problem. I can handle it.