Chapter 106: Another Travel Awaits

"Alright," I said with a smile, pointing down at the spread of vouchers on the table. "So which one are we redeeming first? The million-dollar fashion spree, the luxury spa, or the kitchen?"

Without a single second of hesitation, Patricia’s eyes locked onto the sleek $200,000 gourmet kitchen voucher. A genuine, fiery spark lit up her eyes—the kind of passion only a real chef gets when talking about their craft.

"The kitchen setup," she said instantly, picking up the golden card and holding it like it was made of solid crystal. "Definitely this one. I want to try this out right now."

"Not even taking a crack at the spa retreat first?" I teased, raising an eyebrow. "You were almost collapsing from exhaustion an hour ago."

"The spa can wait," she chuckled, running her fingers over the embossed card. "Ethan, you don’t get it. Commercial-grade range hoods, precision temperature induction, rare imported spices... this is every chef’s absolute dream. I’ve been forced to cook with sub-par, greasy equipment at that restaurant for years. If I can actually order full, high-end culinary supplies and top-tier gear right now, my fatigue is officially gone."

"Fair enough," I grinned, pulling out my phone. "Let’s activate the Zenith concierge code on the back and get your new setup delivered."

We dialed the Zenith luxury concierge code printed on the back of the voucher, and within an hour, the delivery team pulled up in a fleet of sleek black vans.

A crew of high-end technicians and installers filed into her place, unloading crates of top-tier commercial appliances, sleek stainless-steel countertops, precision induction burners, and racks filled with rare, imported spices and chef’s knives.

The lead workman wiped his brow, reviewing the blueprints on his tablet before turning to us. "Sir, ma’am, because this is a full kitchen rebuild and high-precision installation, it’s going to take about forty-five minutes to an hour to get everything calibrated, vented, and set up properly."

"Take all the time you need," Patricia said, her voice breathy with awe as she watched them uncrate a gleaming, professional-grade range.

Even with the faint dark circles under her eyes from pure physical fatigue, the heavy, suffocating stress that had been weighing her down all morning seemed to melt away completely. Watching those state-of-the-art culinary tools fill her space brought a bright, fierce light back into her eyes.

She looked more alive in that single moment than she had in months. Standing beside her, watching her trace her fingers along a freshly unboxed set of damascus steel knives, I knew Phase 2 was working perfectly. Her burnout was fading, her passion was rekindling, and her journey toward that ultimate culinary breakthrough had officially begun.

While the installers were busy assembling the stainless-steel prep tables in the background, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text from Chloe.

I pulled it up and read through her brief:

"Ethan, I just went through the contract line by line. Honestly? The restaurant’s legal team locked this down tight. It’s practically bulletproof. They even built in ironclad liability waivers stating the restaurant can’t be sued or held responsible if an employee falls ill or collapses due to shift fatigue. There’s zero leverage for an unfitness-for-work lawsuit here."

A second text popped up right after:

"As the contract stands, there are literally only two ways out for her: she either finishes her full contract year... or she pays the breach penalty fee, which comes out to $80,000. Light work for you, though."

I chuckled under my breath, locking my phone screen. Seventy or eighty grand was absolute pocket change for me.

According to Chloe’s notes on the termination clauses, the fastest way to trigger the contract breach—and instantly force the penalty fee to lock in so I could pay it off on her behalf—was simple: Patricia just had to absent herself from work for one full week.

I looked over at Patricia, who was currently beaming as she inspected a freshly calibrated convection oven.

A one-week mandatory vacation to trigger her absolute freedom? That was going to be the easiest directive I’d ever given her.

I walked over to where she was admiring the new kitchen setup, leaning against the counter next to her.

"Since this kitchen rebuild is going to need a little time for the full installation and we’ve got a week of absolute freedom ahead," I said with a sly smile, "how about we redeem that second voucher right now? The one-week, full-package luxury spa retreat."

Patricia pulled out the spa voucher, reading the fine print carefully this time. Her eyes widened. "Wait... Ethan, this retreat isn’t local. The wellness estate is located in Tokyo!"

She looked up at me, a sudden wave of hesitation crossing her face. "Tokyo?! That means an international flight! Is airfare even covered in this? Look, maybe I should just stay here and get used to the new kitchen first..."

I could see her wanting to pull back to stay with her shiny new toys, but I wasn’t about to let her jump straight back into high-energy work when her body desperately needed recovery.

"The kitchen isn’t going anywhere," I said smoothly, cutting off her excuses. "The setup will be completely calibrated, stocked, and waiting for you when we get back. But right now? You need actual, total physical rest. No cooking, no stress."

She stared at me for a second, then let out a helpless laugh, shaking her head. "Alright, alright... I’m assuming you’re taking care of the flight details then?"

"Consider it done," I grinned.

Eighty grand for a breach penalty and a quick private jet booking to Tokyo were trivial details for me. I pulled out my phone and fired off a quick directive to arrange a private charter out of the local airport, complete with onboard luxury amenities so she could sleep during the long flight over the Pacific.

Watching me effortlessly tap away on my phone, Patricia shook her head with a soft chuckle. "Your hobby, traveling... you weren’t joking."

"Yep, every word." I replied, tucking my phone back into my pocket. "Go pack a bag, Patricia. Tokyo awaits."