CHAPTER 1 The Birthday Party

Kate.

I spent three hours on Theo's birthday cake.

Vanilla sponge with Swiss meringue buttercream, fresh strawberries macerated in champagne, and delicate sugar flowers that took forty-five minutes each to craft. 

My seven-year-old son took one look at it and said, "Why couldn't Miss Sarah bring the cake?"

The dining room went silent. Fifteen people—David's colleagues, his mother, our neighbors all turned to watch me absorb the blow. I kept my smile fixed, the same way I had learned to keep my hands steady when plating under Michelin-star pressure.

"Miss Sarah did bring a cake, sweetie," David's mother announced, sweeping into the room with a supermarket sheet cake blazing with cartoon characters. "A fun one. For children."

Sarah followed behind her, looking apologetic in a way that did not reach her eyes. "I hope you don't mind, Mrs. Taylor. I know how busy you are, and I just thought…"

"It's perfect," David cut in, his hand resting on Sarah's shoulder a beat too long. "Theo loves superhero cakes. Don't you, buddy?"

"Yeah!" Theo's face lit up in a way it never did for me anymore. "Miss Sarah knows what I like."

I looked at my cake, at the hours of work now irrelevant, and felt something crack inside my chest.

"Well," I said quietly, "we can have both."

"No need to be excessive, Kate." David's mother examined my cake with the same expression she used for spoiled milk. "All this fancy French nonsense. You're a mother now, not a chef playing dress-up."

Seven years ago, I had been the youngest chef to earn a feature in Culinary Masters. Food Network had called me "the future of American cuisine." My father had been building an entire restaurant empire around my name.

Then I met David at a charity gala, and he told me I was too special to waste my life in a kitchen.

I had believed him.

"Mama's cake is pretty," Tehilla said softly, her small hand slipping into mine. My seven-year-old daughter, the only person in this house who still saw me.

"Pretty doesn't mean good," Theo shot back. "Miss Sarah's cake has flavor."

He had never even tasted mine.

David laughed, actually laughed, and ruffled Theo's hair. "That's my boy. Always honest."

Sarah ducked her head, but I caught the small smile playing at her lips. She wore a silk blouse I recognized because I had the same one. Except hers fit her perfectly, while mine had been buried in my closet for two years because nothing fit right after Tehilla and Theo.

"Sarah was just telling me about her promotion," David's business partner said, raising his wine glass. "youngest senior secretary at Taylor Consulting. That's impressive."

"She's been invaluable," David said, and the way he looked at her made my stomach turn. "I honestly don't know what I would do without her."

You used to say that about me, I thought.

"How nice that David has someone so... dedicated," his mother added, her emphasis on the last word deliberate. "Kate, dear, shouldn't you check on the kitchen? I think something's burning."

Nothing was burning. She just wanted me gone.

I started to turn away when Sarah spoke up. "Oh, Mrs. Taylor, I actually helped with the party menu! David mentioned you were feeling overwhelmed, so I put together some ideas." She gestured to the catering spread I had not ordered. "I hope that's okay?"

Every eye in the room turned to me, waiting.

"Of course," I heard myself say. "How thoughtful."

"Sarah just gets it." David's hand dropped to the small of her back, guiding her toward the dining table like she was the hostess. Like this was her home. "She knows exactly what people want."

They moved together with an ease that made my throat tight. Inside jokes I was not part of. Shared glances that spoke entire conversations. When had David stopped looking at me like that?

When had I become invisible in my own home?

"Remember the Ashford contract celebration?" one of David's colleagues asked him. "Sarah's planning was flawless."

"She has excellent taste," David agreed, then finally seemed to remember I existed. "Kate, you remember that night, right? You stayed home with the kids."

I had not been invited.

"Oh, the photos from that night were gorgeous," someone else chimed in. "Sarah, that dress you wore was stunning."

"David helped me pick it out," Sarah said softly, and I watched my husband's ears turn red.

Tehilla tugged my hand. "Mama, you're squeezing too tight."

I loosened my grip, but I could not look away from them. From the way they orbited each other like binary stars, and I was just a distant planet losing gravity.

"Kate." A quiet voice at my elbow. "Can we talk?"

I turned to find Alex Morrison, David's business acquaintance and the son of Chef Henri Morrison—the man who had trained me, who had called me his greatest protégé, who had stopped speaking to me when I walked away from everything.

"Not now," I whispered.

"Yes, now." His hand settled on my shoulder, steady and warm. "Come outside. Just for a minute."

I let him guide me to the terrace because staying in that room would have killed me.

The night air hit my face, cool and sharp. Behind us, I heard Theo blow out his candles while everyone sang. No one noticed I was missing.

"You made that cake, didn't you?" Alex said quietly.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"I could taste your technique from across the room. The champagne in the strawberries, that was always your signature." He paused. "My father asks about you sometimes. He wonders if you are happy."

"I'm fine."

"Kate." He turned me to face him, and his eyes were too kind. "You are not fine. And you have not been fine for a long time."

Inside, David's laugh rang out, followed by Sarah's delighted giggle.

"He is going to marry her," I said suddenly. "Isn't he?"

Alex did not answer, which was answer enough.

"You were supposed to change the world," he said instead. "You were supposed to make people weep over your food. Do you remember what my father said at your graduation? That you had hands blessed by the culinary gods themselves?"

I remembered. I remembered everything I had given up.

"That was a lifetime ago."

"It was seven years ago. You are thirty-two, Kate. Not dead." He pulled out his phone, typed something quickly. "My new restaurant needs a head chef. The interview is on Tuesday at ten. Come."

"I can't just—"

"Yes, you can." He pressed his card into my palm. "Remember who you were before you became who he wanted."

The terrace door opened. David stood there, his expression hard. "Kate, our guests are leaving. You should say goodbye."

His eyes flicked to Alex, then to where Alex's hand still rested on my arm. Something dark crossed his face.

"Sure," I said. "I'll be right there."

David left without another word.

Alex squeezed my shoulder once. "Tuesday. Ten a.m. Don't make me tell my father you are still wasting your gift."

He walked back inside, leaving me alone with his card and the sound of my family celebrating without me.

Through the glass, I watched Sarah cut Theo's cake… the store-bought one, while my son beamed up at her like she had hung the moon.

I looked down at the business card.

Morrison's. Fine Dining Redefined.

Tuesday. Ten a.m.

What did I have to lose?