chapter 4

I woke up early in the morning, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. Today was the big day—the cooking competition that could change my life. I had been preparing for weeks, perfecting my dishes and honing my skills. This was more than just a contest; it was an opportunity to prove myself.

Organized by three prominent hotel industry leaders which is stonehaven hotel and onyx resturants and resort , including the renowned Blackstone Grand Hotel & Resort as powerful and influential as its owner and CEO, Damien Blackstone , the competition was designed to scout talent and give underprivileged aspiring chefs a chance to shine. The ultimate prize? A position at one of Damien Hotel's prestigious kitchens, working under some of the finest chefs in the industry. 

Their goal was to scout talents and give opportunities to those who didn’t have the means to break into the culinary world. There was no discrimination—anyone with skill and passion was welcome.

Arriving at the grand venue, I felt my breath hitch. The place was bustling with activity, contestants buzzing with anticipation. The sheer scale of the event was overwhelming, but I clenched my fists and reminded myself why I was here. Determined, I made my way to the front desk, where a young man sat, distributing numbers to the participants.

Name?" he asked without looking up.

"Evelyn hayes," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

He handed me a numbered tag and gestured toward the competition hall. "You're at Station 14. Good luck."

I took a deep breath and stepped inside. The kitchen was a spectacle—thirty identical cooking stations, each equipped with high-quality appliances, pristine countertops, and an array of fresh ingredients. The competition was structured into three intense rounds, with eliminations at each stage. According to the rules, contestants would be judged based on creativity, technique, and presentation. Every move we made would be scrutinized by a panel of esteemed judges, ensuring a fair and unbiased process. No favoritism, no special treatment—just pure culinary talent on display.

“Evelyn!” A familiar voice called out. I turned to see Chris approaching me with a warm smile.

“Chris! What are you doing here?” I asked, genuinely surprised. 

I had met him the previous day while exploring the city, and we had struck up a casual conversation. He had been friendly, helpful, and genuinely curious about my journey, though I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now, seeing him here, I realized there was more to him than I had initially assumed

Chris approached me with a knowing smile. "Evelyn, looks like we meet again.

" he said, his eyes dropping to the numbered tab. Surprise was written all over his face. "And it looks like you're here for the competition—if I'm not mistaken, this is the one you mentioned yesterday.

"yes " i replied shifted uncomfortably, a wave of unease washing over me."

Sensing my nervousness, he asked,Ready to take on the competition?"

I smiled, feeling more at ease. "I hope so. It’s a bit overwhelming."

"I get that," he said, his expression softening. "Competitions like this can feel like a battlefield, but trust me, once you get into your element, everything else fades away."

I let out a small laugh. "That sounds nice in theory. Right now, all I feel is my heart trying to beat out of my chest."

Chris chuckled. "That just means you care. And people who care are the ones who put passion into their work. That’s what sets great chefs apart from good ones."

I studied him for a moment, intrigued by his words. There was something about the way he spoke—like he truly understood what it was like to stand in my shoes. "You sound like you’ve been in competitions before.

He hesitated, then shrugged. "I’ve seen my fair share. Let’s just say I know what it takes to make it in this industry."

There was something about the way he said it that made me curious, but before I could press further, he glanced around and lowered his voice. "Listen, I know this can be overwhelming, but don’t let the pressure get to you. Focus on what you came here to do. No matter what happens, remember why you started cooking in the first place."

"You’ll do great," he assured me. "Just focus on what you do best. Good luck."

His words settled something inside me, easing the weight of my nerves just a little. I nodded, offering him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Chris. I appreciate that."

He returned my smile. "Anytime. Now, go show them what you’re made of. Good luck, Evelyn."

We exchanged a brief but warm look before parting ways. However, as I walked to my station, I could feel eyes burning into me. The atmosphere around me shifted, the hum of conversation taking on a sharper, more hostile edge. Whispers rippled through the room, laced with bitterness and envy.

"Did you see that?"

"She already knows someone in charge?"

"Typical. Some people will do anything to win."

Confused, I tried to ignore the snide comments, but another contestant, a tall woman with a knowing smirk, leaned in. "You really don’t know who that was, do you?"

I frowned. "Chris?"

The woman chuckled. "Chris is the competition coordinator. One of the top executives working with blackstone hotel& restort plus he is damien right hand man . You must be really lucky to get his attention."

Shock coursed through me. Had I really just unknowingly befriended someone so important? Was that why everyone was looking at me with suspicion? I swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts away,But there was no time to dwell on it. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and focused on the task ahead. I was here to cook, to prove myself—not to worry about petty rumors.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the hall, signaling the start of the first round. The tension in the air thickened as everyone prepared to showcase their skills. I tightened my grip on my utensils, steadying my breathing. No matter what anyone thought, I was here to compete. It was time to show them what I was made of.