Chương 4 - Collision in the Grand Ballroom
The murmurs in the grand ballroom died down as the lights dimmed, replaced by the resonant chime of a silver bell echoing from the stage. The master of ceremonies stepped up to the microphone, his voice booming through the state-of-the-art sound system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, and patrons of the culinary arts,” the host began, his smile radiant. “Tonight, we celebrate not just the beauty of food, but the visionary minds that push our industry into the future. And tonight, we have the immense privilege of honoring a culinary genius whose revolutionary concepts have entirely reshaped modern dining—the founder of the Aethel group and the anonymous benefactor behind our record-breaking charity initiative. Please join me in welcoming to the stage, the evening’s guest of honor… Chef E.”
A spotlight cut through the darkness, sweeping across the room before locking directly onto my table near the front. Gasps and ripples of excited applause erupted through the crowd.
Slowly, I stood up from my seat, smoothing the fabric of my gown. The heavy velvet mask rested securely over the upper half of my face, adding an aura of undeniable mystery. As I began walking toward the grand staircase leading to the stage, my path brought me within mere feet of where my family was standing.
Their table had frozen. I could see my father staring intently at the stage, his brow furrowed in fierce curiosity. Serena and Julian turned their heads as the crowd parted to let me pass. For a split second, our eyes locked.
Julian’s breath hitched. He blinked hard, squinting through the dim lighting as if trying to calculate where he had seen this posture, this exact cadence, before. Serena gripped the stem of her champagne flute so tightly I thought the crystal might shatter in her palm. My mother leaned forward, her mouth slightly open in shock as she took in the expensive tailoring of my gown and the quiet, commanding aura I radiated.
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They had spent years convincing themselves that I was nothing more than kitchen help—a domestic accessory whose existence was entirely dependent on their approval. Now, watching me glide past them toward a stage built on a multi-million-dollar empire bearing my invisible work, the terrible, dizzying truth began to dawn on them. They were looking at royalty, and they didn't even have the credentials to buy a ticket to her world.
I didn't slow down. I didn't spare them a single glance of recognition. I walked past them as if they were nothing more than empty air—the exact treatment they had subjected me to on the night they handed my life away.
