Five years later,
~Charlene~
The kitchen hummed with energy, pots clanging, knives chopping, voices rising and falling in the rhythm I had come to command.
The scent of rosemary, garlic, and butter thickened the air as the last entrée of the night slid across the pass.
I checked the plating once before nodding to Adrian, my sous chef.
"Send it," I said, wiping my hands against my apron.
Applause followed, and my team cheered. It always did when I finished a dish — my staff had long ago stopped hiding their admiration, and though I usually brushed it aside, tonight, I allowed a small smile.
Five years ago, I was a trembling, broken girl chased from my world. Now, I was Chef Charlene Winters, head of Maison Lumière, a popular restaurant known in the human world.
"Perfect as always, Chef," Adrian said, falling beside me. His sharp eyes scanned my face.
"Thank you, my dear sous chef," I said, embracing him with a playful kiss.
"But you haven't eaten all day. At least let me bring you something."
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed on the counter. My smile slipped. I picked it up quickly, knowing exactly who it might be.
It was Margaret, the caretaker I trusted most with the children.
Charlene, Damian's cough has gotten worse tonight. I've given him his medicine, but he's asking for you. The twins are worried too. He keeps saying his chest hurts.
A thin ache spread through my chest as I dialed her phone. I pressed the phone closer to my ear as Margaret's voice crackled over the call.
"Mommy? Mommy, are you there?" Drew's small voice piped up in the background.
Dawn followed, higher, worried. "Damian's not breathing well—"
"Give me the phone!" Damian's weak protest came through, followed by a fit of coughing that made my heart twist.
I gripped the counter until my knuckles whitened, fighting to keep my face calm for my staff. "Margaret, stay close to him. I'll be home as soon as I can. Make sure the medicine is near, and keep his chest propped up with pillows."
"Yes, ma'am," she said gently. "Don't worry. We'll manage until you're back."
The call ended, but my children's voices still echoed in my ears. My little boy… no amount of awards or accolades could ease the fear of hearing him struggle for breath.
I was done with work tonight and couldn't wait to return home and be with them. I slipped the phone into my pocket, squaring my shoulders.
"Everything all right?" Adrian asked quietly.
I forced my lips into a practiced smile. "Yes. Just family matters. Let's finish strong."
He studied me for a moment, but wisely didn't press because he already knew what I was referring to.
The night stretched, dish after dish, leaving the kitchen in flawless rhythm. My restaurant got contracted to serve the human king since he is an Important figure in the city.
Finally, we were done, and when I thought that it was time to leave, Adrian reappeared at my side, his face unusually pale.
"Chef… the king has asked for you personally," he said. "He wants you to present dessert at his table."
The spoon slipped slightly in my grip before I caught it. "The king?"
Adrian nodded, then lowered his voice. "And his guest."
A ripple of unease stirred in my chest. After moving to the human world, my wolf, dulled by years of wolfsbane, shifted restlessly under my skin.
I smoothed my apron, steadying my breath.
"Very well," I said.
With the final dessert balanced on a silver tray, I stepped out of the familiar comfort of the kitchen into the grand hall.
Light spilled across marble floors, laughter and music echoing in the gilded room. At the center, King Alaric sat in his golden chair, smiling warmly when he saw me approach.
But the man beside him stole the air from my lungs.
Broad shoulders, dark hair, and eyes as sharp and blue-piercing as the ocean stared back at me. It had been a while since I had seen them, yet I could still feel how cold they had glared at me that day five years ago.
Draven.
He was here.
The king's guest was probably him, meaning he was no longer a crown prince but a King.
The tray nearly slipped from my hands.
His gaze found mine instantly, burning through me with a force that left me trembling despite the steel I had built around myself. Five years had passed, yet the pain felt as fresh as yesterday.
I felt a hand touch my shoulder, and I turned to see Adrian staring at me with a questioning look. I smiled at him and faced the king, then gently bowed. "Your Majesty."
"Chef Winters," King Alaric greeted kindly. "Your reputation precedes you. Everyone has been talking about how great your food is. My guest insisted on meeting the genius behind tonight's feast."
Guest. Fate truly had a cruel sense of humor. Who would have thought I would meet Draven again in an event like this?
Draven leaned back in his chair at the mention of his name, his lips curling into a smirk that held no warmth. "A remarkable chef indeed," he said slowly, his voice as deep and cutting as ever. His gaze flicked over me — my hands, my apron, the calm mask I wore. "It seems you've built quite a… life for yourself. I have to admit that your food is the best I have had in a while."