Chapter 112: Looked Like Fools

"You piece of trash," I spat through gritted teeth, glaring down at him. "You tampered with the jars. I’m going to sue you until you don’t even have a shirt left on your back."

Despite my grip around his neck, he remained sickeningly calm. He didn’t panic, didn’t flinch. Instead, he just raised his hands in mock innocence, looking around as neighboring guests and staff began to gather around the scene, whispering among themselves.

"Tampered? I have no idea what you’re talking about," he said, his voice loud enough for the crowd to hear. "If Patricia made a terrible meal that made you sick, that’s on her lack of basic culinary competence. She’s a terrible chef—I’ve been saying that for years."

"She’s ten times the chef you’ll ever be!" I barked, tightening my grip. "You deliberately mislabeled the ginger jar with ground mustard!"

"Mislabeled?" he chuckled softly, turning his head to look at the manager who was rushing over. "Check the jars yourself, my friend. Every single spice in this pavilion is pristine."

I released his collar with a sharp shove and turned toward our table to grab the evidence. I snatched up the small ceramic jar from the rack, pulling the cork to show the crowd—

My jaw tightened.

The white mustard powder was gone. The jar was filled with actual, fragrant, freshly ground ginger.

While we were inside the restroom, he had slipped over to our table and swapped the jars back. He had erased every single bit of proof, leaving us standing in front of a crowd of high-end guests looking like absolute fools.

He broke out into a loud, mocking laugh, shaking his head at the crowd as if to say, See? Total lunatic.

The head manager stepped between us, bowing deeply with a look of stressed, formal disapproval. "Mr. Ethan... please. I warned you earlier about disturbances. Given the current circumstances and the comfort of our other distinguished guests, we must respectfully ask that you and Miss Patricia wrap up your stay and take your leave."

My blood was practically boiling. My knuckles turned white as I clutched the useless jar of actual ginger, but I knew throwing another punch right here would only play directly into that rat’s hands.

"Let’s go," I muttered, grabbing Patricia’s hand.

We packed up in complete silence and headed out to the estate’s private courtyard, where our booked luxury transport was waiting to take us back to Haneda Airport.

The ride was quiet for the first fifteen minutes. Outside, the lush greenery of the Tokyo suburbs blurred past tinted windows. Patricia sat beside me, staring down at her lap, her hands folded tightly together.

"I still can’t believe he would do something like that..." she murmured softly, breaking the silence. Her voice wasn’t weak or trembling like before—it was laced with a sharp, incredulous disgust. "He literally tampered with food just to ruin my confidence and make you sick."

"Because he’s a petty, terrified loser," I replied, leaning back against the leather seat and looking out the window. "He knows how good you are, and he knows he can’t beat you on skill. But don’t worry... we’re getting him for sure. He just guaranteed his own absolute ruin."

Patricia turned to look at me, and to my surprise, the lingering guilt in her face was completely gone. In its place was a fierce, radiant fire I hadn’t seen in her before. The experience hadn’t crushed her spirit—it had ignited it.

"Yes," she said, her voice steady and resolute. A small, confident smile cut across her glowing face. "We are. Now I’m even more hyped to open that restaurant right next door and bring him down to absolute justice."

I let out a long breath, resting my head against the cool leather of the back seat as the expressway blurred into the city skyline.

"Yeah, me too," I said, looking over at her with a calm smile. "Let’s not let a rat like him get under our skin. The whole point of this trip was for you to reset, and you did. As for your training? You start whenever you’re ready."

Patricia leaned back, letting out a soft, relieved sigh. "Honestly... thank you, Ethan. I think I just need a couple of days to settle in, and then I’m going all in."

"What about that shopping spree we talked about?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "To be completely honest? I don’t even feel like walking through a mall right now. I just want to focus on what comes next."

"Works for me," I agreed.

The wardrobe update could wait for another time. Right now, my mind was entirely locked onto two things: perfecting her culinary talent, and dropping a brand-new, ultra-luxury restaurant right on her ex-boss’s front doorstep.

Phase 1 (The Liberation) and Phase 2 (The Reset & Glow-Up) were officially wrapped.

Right on cue, as Patricia looked out the window watching the airport approach, the translucent blue interface flared to life directly in my line of sight—invisible to the rest of the world:

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION] Mission Objective: The Chef’s Redemption Phase 1 & Phase 2: COMPLETE

Total Capital Deployed: $320,000 Target Glow-Up Level: MAX (100%) Stress Relief Index: 100% Cleared

[REWARD UNLOCKED] Current Cashback Multiplier: 60x Locked Escrow Returns: $19,200,000 Note: Escrow payout unlocks upon successful establishment of Phase 3 (The Restaurant).

A low, internal grin spread through me. $320k spent, nearly twenty million dollars locked in payout, and we hadn’t even begun the real spending yet. The ROI on saving Patricia was turning out to be absolute insanity.

I closed the floating panel with a mental thought and looked back over at Patricia, who was watching the runway lights of Haneda Airport come into view. The timid, broken girl who was wiped out from washing dishes a week ago was completely gone. Sitting next to me was a confident, radiant head chef ready to take back everything that was taken from her.

"Phase three," I murmured under my breath, watching the jet bridge align with our private plane. "Time to build your empire."