Chapter 2

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and quiet despair. I paid every single one of my father' s outstanding bills, the cashier' s check feeling like a shield in my hands. The relief was so profound it almost brought me to my knees. For the first time in two lives, I felt a flicker of hope.

Back in the competition hall, chaos had erupted. I knew this because my phone was buzzing nonstop with calls from the organizers. I ignored them all.

Later, I saw the news clips online. Molly Chadwick, declared the winner by default. Ryan Scott, the handsome heir, rushing to her side, kissing her for the cameras. He looked ecstatic, celebrating his true love's victory. But even through the screen, I saw it-a brief, confused frown, a glance toward the empty space where my station had been. An unexplainable sense of loss. He didn' t know why he felt it, not yet.

The next day, as I sat by my father' s bedside, a tall, imposing figure filled the doorway of the hospital room. Duncan Scott. His face was a roadmap of wrinkles, his eyes sharp and intelligent. He looked just as formidable as I remembered.

"Gabrielle Johns," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You are a difficult girl to find."

I stood up, my body tense. "Mr. Scott. I' m not interested in whatever you' re selling."

"I'm not selling anything," he said, his eyes glinting with something that looked like amusement. "I'm offering. I was impressed by your performance in the first three challenges. Molly's dessert was... uninspired. I know you threw the match. I want to know why."

Before I could answer, another voice cut through the air, sharp and angry.

"So this is where you ran off to."

Ryan Scott stood behind his grandfather, his handsome face twisted into a mask of fury. But it wasn't just anger in his eyes. It was something else. A chilling, familiar recognition.

My blood ran cold. No. It couldn't be.

He pushed past his grandfather and strode toward me, his gaze locked on mine. "Don't play these games with me, Gabrielle. I know what you're doing."

He lowered his voice, a menacing whisper only I could hear. "I remember everything. Every single moment. The wedding. The baby. Everything. You think running away is going to work this time?"

The floor seemed to drop out from under me. He was reborn, too. He remembered murdering our child. He remembered destroying my life. And he thought this was a game. He thought I was playing hard-to-get.

Duncan looked between us, his expression unreadable. "Ryan, what is the meaning of this? I am offering Miss Johns a position as my protégée, a chance to train under the best chefs in our group."

It was a lie, a thinly veiled excuse to keep me within his grandson's reach.

Ryan smirked, a cruel, possessive look on his face. He expected me to be terrified, to crumble under the weight of our shared, horrific past. He thought he had me trapped.

I looked from Ryan' s smug face to Duncan' s expectant one. I took a deep breath.

"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Scott," I said, my voice clear and strong. "But I have to decline. I want nothing to do with your family."