. CHAPTER 4 — The Judge Who Remembered
“Stop the cameras,” Cassandra snapped.
Nobody stopped them.
The Young Chef Awards had promised live coverage to sponsors, culinary schools, and thousands of viewers online. Phones were raised throughout the ballroom. The more Cassandra pointed, the more people filmed.
Chef Bellamy stepped onto the stage with the slow dignity of a man who had spent his life carrying hot pans and hard truths. His white chef coat was plain compared to Cassandra’s glittering gown, but when he moved, the room made space for him.
He looked at Lily first. “Are you hurt?”
Lily wiped cream from her eyelashes. “No, sir.”
“Humiliated is also a kind of hurt.”
At that, Lily’s mouth trembled. She swallowed it down.
Cassandra forced a laugh. “August, please. This is ridiculous. The child brought a stolen copy of my Golden Cloud Custard to my own ceremony.”
Chef Bellamy did not look at her. He crouched near the broken cake on the floor, pinched a bit of almond crust between his fingers, and tasted it. The gesture was so unexpected that the room froze. Then he closed his eyes.
One second passed.
Two.
When he opened them, his expression had changed. It was not surprise. It was recognition.
“This is not Golden Cloud,” he said quietly. “This is Sunlight Custard.”
Cassandra’s jaw tightened. “That name means nothing.”
“It meant enough for you to erase it.”
A murmur rolled through the ballroom. Lily stared at him, cream still clinging to her hair. “You knew my mom?”
Chef Bellamy looked at her with sudden gentleness. “I tasted her cake before you were born.”
Cassandra stepped between them. “This is an awards ceremony, not a ghost story.”
“No,” Bellamy said. “It is a recipe theft case that has been waiting fifteen years for a witness.”
Cassandra’s face hardened. “Careful.”
“Careful?” Bellamy turned toward the giant screen behind the stage. “I have been careful for too long.”
He raised one hand to the technical booth. “Show entry file number 417.”
The screen flickered. Cassandra’s eyes widened.
A scanned document appeared: a faded competition form from fifteen years earlier. The recipe title read SUNLIGHT CUSTARD CAKE. The creator’s name: Elena Hart.
The room erupted in whispers.
May you like
Lily took one step forward, as if the screen had opened a doorway to her mother.
Cassandra stared at the document like it had reached from the past and grabbed her throat.
