Chapter 117: Savage Plan To Crumble Durev

I left them to their high-intensity training and headed straight to my car to start digging into the opposition. If we were going to completely crush her ex-boss’s establishment, I needed to know every single move they were planning.

I got in touch with a well-connected corporate strategist and had them run a full background trace on Ocean Front Restaurant’s upcoming schedule. Within an hour, the internal memos and event filings were sitting on my laptop screen.

What I found made everything click into place.

Next month, Ocean Front Restaurant was hosting an exclusive, high-society gala for a massive lineup of billionaire investors, international critics, and political heavyweights. It was supposed to be the biggest event on the entire coastal strip—the kind of night that would secure their reputation for the next decade.

And the real kicker?

The contract confirmed that Olden Mante had been locked in months ago to be the guest executive chef for that exact event.

That was the real reason he had been so adamant about only having three weeks available for Patricia. Her ex-boss had pooled his resources to hire Olden for a single, massive PR night, intending to use the legendary chef’s name to elevate his own venue and seal his dominance over the entire district.

I leaned back in my seat, a dark, amused smile spreading across my face as the full picture came together.

Her ex-boss had paid a small fortune just to have Olden step into his kitchen for one night to save his reputation. He had no idea that I had just handed Olden $1,000,000 to spend three weeks privately training the very chef he tried to destroy.

When that gala night rolled around, Olden wouldn’t just be cooking at Ocean Front—he would be judging Patricia’s work side-by-side with his own standard, right next door. Her ex-boss was unknowingly walking straight into a trap he paid to set.

The brilliance of the play was absolute savagery.

If I dropped the news on Olden now, professional courtesy or contract obligations might force him to give the ex-boss a heads-up, giving that scum enough time to scramble for a backup celebrity chef. But if I held the trap shut until the very last second, the impact would be utterly catastrophic.

Her ex-boss was putting every single egg in one basket, hyping up this elite gala to the highest-paying clientele in the region on the back of Olden Mante’s name. Imagine the sheer horror when the big night arrives: the red carpet is rolled out, the billionaire investors and top-tier critics take their seats next door... and Olden Mante never walks through their kitchen doors.

Instead, he’d be standing front and center at Patricia’s grand opening, personally unveiling her masterpiece kitchen while her ex-boss’s gala collapses into total, unmitigated chaos right next door without a head chef to run the line.

I checked my phone and set a private calendar reminder for the day before the gala.

When I walked back into Patricia’s apartment later that afternoon, the air was thick with the rich, savory aroma of seared protein and reduced pan sauces. The counters were covered in discarded prep cuts, and Patricia was drenched in sweat, her hair sticking slightly to her forehead—but her eyes were blazing with fierce, sharp confidence.

Olden was standing over her with his arms crossed, watching her execute a flawless, high-speed julienne on a pile of shallots without missing a beat.

"Tighter grip," Olden barked, though the subtle nod of approval in his posture gave him away. "Good. Again." ℯℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

I leaned against the doorframe with a calm, silent grin. I wasn’t going to utter a single word about the gala to either of them. I’d let Olden pour every ounce of his legendary knowledge into Patricia for the next three weeks.

And when that night finally arrived, I would pull the trigger—and watch her ex-boss’s entire empire crumble in a single evening.

By Week Two, the shift in Patricia was undeniable.

The training had moved beyond foundational precision and straight into high-stakes kitchen management, rapid-fire pacing, and mastering complex flavor profiles under extreme pressure. Olden had transformed her living room setup into a chaotic, simulated line service, barking out three-course tickets back-to-back to force her to manage timing, multi-tasking, and absolute composure.

I walked into the apartment, leaning relaxed against the doorframe as the sizzle of butter and the intense aroma of reduced port wine filled the room.

Patricia was a blur of seamless motion—searing duck breasts on one burner, monitoring a delicate emulsion on another, and shouting out pass times with absolute command. The hesitation she used to have was completely gone, replaced by a razor-sharp, quiet authority.

Olden stood a few feet back, his leather notebook in hand, observing every millisecond of her flow.

"Looking sharp in here," I said casually, breaking the tension as Patricia plated a dish with surgical precision. I looked over at Olden. "She making good progress, Chef? You giving her the full million-dollar treatment?"

Olden turned his head, his sharp blue eyes softening just a fraction—a massive win coming from a man as brutal as him.

"Progress is an understatement," Olden replied, his voice calm but undeniably impressed. "Most chefs take years to break the habits of bad line environments. Patricia has shed all of it in seven days. Her palate is elevated, her execution is clean, and more importantly, she’s learning how to command a kitchen, not just work in one."

Patricia wiped the edge of a plate with a clean cloth, setting it down on the pass, and looked up at me with a breathless, triumphant grin.

"He’s not letting me off easy, Ethan," she said, her eyes shining with fierce pride. "Not even for a second."

"Good," I smiled, walking over to inspect the immaculate dish resting on the counter. "Because when week three finishes and the grand opening hits... every single second of this fire is going to pay off."

"By the way, Chef," I said casually, keeping my tone light as I leaned against the marble island, "you still locked in for that massive coastal gala next month? The one at Ocean Front Restaurant?"