Grace Ellis’s smile vanished. She set down her dessert spoon and sat upright, her gaze lingering on the two uninvited guests for a few seconds. A flicker of realization crossed her eyes.

"Ethan, come back to South City with me right now."

Olivia Hayes spoke in a tone of absolute command, as if Ethan were still just a subordinate she could summon at will—or worse, a piece of property.

Ethan looked up, his eyes cold and detached.

"Ms. Hayes, we’re divorced. Where I stay is my own business."

He gave a sharp dismissal, his voice devoid of warmth. "You have no authority to order me around. If there’s nothing else, please leave. You’re ruining our dinner."

Olivia’s breath hitched. A strange, sharp ache pulsed in her chest, but she pressed on. "Alfred Robertson is still waiting for your signature dishes. This collaboration is vital for the Hayes Group. You have to—"

"Have to?"

Ethan cut her off, his eyes sharp as a blade. The air around him turned frigid, signaling that he was done playing nice. "And what, exactly, does your precious Hayes Group have to do with me?"

"Don't forget, you were the one who kicked me out. You and Damon Meyer were the ones who pushed me into this corner. Now that you need me, you think you can just snap your fingers and bring me back?"

"Olivia, in your eyes, am I just a tool? Something you can pull out when you need it and toss in the trash the moment you’re done?"

His voice wasn’t loud, but every word felt like a nail being driven home, heavy with long-suppressed anger and exhaustion. Stung by the sheer hatred in his gaze, Olivia went speechless.

Damon Meyer let out a sneer, oozing the arrogant confidence of someone who had never known failure. "Ethan, there’s no need to be so dramatic."

"Have you forgotten everything the Hayes Group did for you? Everything you own is because of them, and because of Olivia. Helping her now isn't just a favor—it’s a chance for you to climb back to the top."

Damon leaned in, his tone condescending. "You want money? I’ll write you a check. You want your professional accreditation back? I can make that happen. All you have to do is help Olivia pass this test."

Ethan watched the pair standing side-by-side—the picture-perfect couple. The irony of the scene was suffocating.

He let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "I owe the Hayes Group nothing, and I certainly owe you nothing. If anything, you two are the ones who owe me."

"And if you can't even manage the basic decency to ask nicely, stop standing there. You're an eyesore."

Turning away from them, Ethan spoke to Grace, his voice softening instantly. "Grace, I apologize for the intrusion. Shall we move to another table?"

Grace rose gracefully, looping her arm through Ethan’s. "Let’s go."

"Hold it right there."

Damon’s voice dropped, turning icy. He stepped into their path, glaring at Ethan with dark, simmering resentment. "Don't be ungrateful. Olivia is offering you a lifeline here; show some respect."

"You think you’re untouchable just because you’ve latched onto a rich girl?" Damon sneered, his lip curling. "Ethan, you’ll never be anything more than a glorified kept man, living off women!"

Grace couldn't help but laugh. She looked up at Damon, her eyes clear and biting. "Mr. Meyer, you’ve got it entirely backward."

"I’m the one who needs Ethan’s expertise. And frankly, I should thank you for being too blind to realize what kind of talent you were throwing away."

Olivia’s eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean?"

"Ethan is the star chef hired by The Gilded Table Group," Grace said, her voice steady and proud. "And as my fiancé, he has absolutely no reason to help you."

Olivia’s face paled, the cool, composed mask she always wore finally cracking. A flicker of panic—one she couldn't even name yet—began to take root.

"Fiancé?" Olivia whispered, her voice trembling. "You're engaged to him? Since when?"