The first spoonful made the bride’s father slam his fist against the table. “What is this?” Richard Whitmore roared, his face turning crimson. “Are you trying to poison my family?”

The atmosphere inside the private tasting room cracked like dry glass.

Celeste Vance straightened her posture, her cheeks flushing a dull, angry pink under her heavy makeup. "Lucas, that is an outrageous accusation. You are implying someone in my kitchen sabotaged a client's meal."

"I am not implying it, Celeste. I am stating it as a fact," Lucas said calmly, setting the spoon down with a soft, metallic click. "This isn't a culinary mistake. This was deliberate."

Richard Whitmore looked between Lucas and Celeste, his wealthy authority shifting from blind fury to sharp suspicion. "If someone in this establishment is sabotaging food intended for my daughter's wedding, I want answers before I leave this building tonight."

"And you will have them," Lucas promised. He turned to Maya, taking in her shaking hands and the fierce, quiet dignity in her eyes. "Maya, go back to the line. Take your lunch container and rest."

"Mr. Reed—"

"I will handle this," Lucas said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Maya nodded slowly, holding her lunch container close to her chest, and retreated through the swinging double doors into the bustling heat of the main kitchen. As the doors closed behind her, the prep cooks and line chefs quieted down, their eyes darting nervously in her direction. Whispers traveled fast in a professional kitchen. They all knew the Whitmore tasting had gone wrong, and they all expected Maya to be fired.

Five minutes later, Lucas walked into the main kitchen. Beside him stood Marcus, the head of security for Reed House.

"Kitchen down," Lucas commanded.

The sound of sizzling pans, clattering tongs, and roaring burners ground to a sudden halt. The fifteen kitchen staff members lined up along the stainless-steel prep tables. Celeste stood at the end of the line, her chin held high, arms folded over her chest.

"At 6:15 PM, someone entered the dry pantry where Maya Bennett’s braising pot was simmering," Lucas announced, his gaze sweeping over every face in the room. "Half a cup of sea salt was dumped directly into her dish. This was a direct attack on a client's event and an insult to this restaurant."

"Lucas, this is ridiculous," Celeste interrupted smoothly. "We were in the middle of a dinner rush! Anyone could have knocked a salt cellar into that pot by mistake during the chaos."

"The salt cellar in the pantry is kept three shelves above the stove level, Celeste," Lucas replied coldness. "It doesn't jump into pots by mistake."

He gestured to Marcus, who held up an iPad displaying high-definition surveillance footage.

Celeste’s eyes widened slightly. "You installed cameras in the pantry? That’s a violation of privacy!"

"The pantry is a food storage area, not a dressing room," Lucas countered. "It falls entirely within corporate security guidelines. Marcus, play the video."

The security footage opened to the dim narrow space of the dry pantry. At 6:14 PM, Maya could be seen entering, picking up a bundle of fresh thyme, and stepping out toward the walk-in cooler.

A mere ten seconds later, a second figure glided into the frame.

The figure reached up, grabbed a handful of coarse kosher salt from a open box on the high shelf, and dumped it directly into the bubbling copper pot resting on the side burner. The person stirred it once with a wooden spoon and slipped back out toward the pastry station.

The face was clearly visible under the bright security light.

It was not Celeste. It was Julian, the senior sous chef and Celeste’s right-hand man.

A collective gasp echoed through the kitchen.

Julian’s face drained of all color. He took a nervous step backward, hitting the edge of a stainless-steel table. "I... I..."

"Julian," Lucas said, his voice dropping into a dangerous hush. "Care to explain why you were seasoning a dish that didn't belong to you?"

Julian’s eyes darted frantically toward Celeste, silently begging for help. But Celeste didn't even look at him. She took an immediate step away from him, her face masking herself in cold disgust.

"Julian!" Celeste gasped, playing her part with tragic shock. "How could you do something so unprofessional?! Maya is just a prep cook—why would you target her?!"

Julian swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Chef... you said... you said if her rustic stew passed the tasting, Mr. Reed would put her on the catering menu and cut our bonus pool!"

"I said no such thing!" Celeste snapped viciously. "I said we needed to maintain high standards! I never told you to ruin a client's food!"

"You gave me the salt!" Julian burst out, his panic overwhelming his loyalty. "You handed me the ramekin right before she went into the walk-in!"

The kitchen went dead silent.

Lucas didn't look surprised. He turned his gaze slowly from Julian to Celeste.

"Julian, pack your knives and get out. You are fired, and Reed House will be filing formal charges for criminal mischief and corporate sabotage," Lucas said. He stepped closer to Celeste, his height looming over her. "As for you, Chef Vance..."

"I had nothing to do with his insane actions, Lucas," Celeste sneered, trying to regain her ground. "You can't prove a word he says. It's his word against mine."

"You're right," Lucas said softly. "I can't prove you handed him the salt. But I don't need to."

He pulled a folded document from his jacket pocket.

"Your contract states that any executive chef whose staff engages in deliberate sabotage resulting in client loss is subject to immediate termination without severance," Lucas read calmly. "Effective right now, Celeste, you are relieved of your duties at Reed House."