After years of no contact, my mother suddenly showed up at my restaurant. “Your sister’s unemployed—hand this place over to her,” she demanded. When I offered her a server position instead, she shoved me and splashed water in my face. “She’s precious—how dare you make her serve?” she screamed. I didn’t cry. I just replied coldly, “Then get used to being homeless.” She had no idea whose house they were living in…

“Chef,” Julian whispered, leaning in close so the line cooks couldn’t hear. “There are two women at the host stand demanding to see you. They’re causing a bit of a scene, refusing to wait at the bar. They say they are your family.”

My heart dropped into my stomach like a lead weight. The rhythm of the kitchen faded into a dull roar. Five years. I hadn’t spoken to them, seen them, or heard from them in five years, ever since the day of my grandmother’s funeral.

I wiped my hands on my apron, took a deep, steadying breath, and pushed through the swinging double doors into the dining room.

The atmosphere in Aura was sophisticated, filled with the low hum of wealthy patrons enjoying truffles and vintage wine under the glow of modern crystal chandeliers. And standing right in the center of the foyer, looking at my expensive, meticulously curated decor with greedy, calculating eyes, were Evelyn and Chloe.