Chapter 1

The flashbulbs were blinding.

Even after the awards ceremony, the photographers swarmed outside the hotel, hungry for a final shot. I clutched the "Rising Critic" statuette, a heavy, cold thing in my hand.

Then, a familiar figure pushed through the reporters.

Jake Brown.

He knelt.

A velvet box snapped open in his hand. A diamond winked under the harsh lights.

"Emily," he said, his voice raspy, a sound I once knew better than my own. "Marry me. Again."

His family, the Browns, materialized behind him, beaming, a well-rehearsed chorus.

"Say yes, Emily!" his mother, Carol, trilled.

"He's missed you so much!" his younger brother, Tom, added, nudging Jake's shoulder.

They all expected tears. A trembling, "Yes, oh, yes!"

After all, I'd chased Jake for five years. Begged for his attention, his approval. He was the celebrated chef, I was just a line cook with big dreams.

They'd forgotten.

Or maybe they never knew the full story.

Three years ago, at the city's most prestigious food festival, Jake had stood before a panel of judges and accused me of sabotaging his signature dish. He'd claimed I'd swapped premium truffles for cheap, chemically-treated mushrooms.

Then he'd whispered to the restaurant owner that I'd been pilfering expensive ingredients for months.

I was fired on the spot. My name dragged through the mud. My culinary dreams, torched.

The memory was a bitter pill.

"Emily, honey," Carol Brown stepped forward, her smile a little too bright. "Jake's been a wreck since you left. He bought out that horrible food blogger who slandered you. Spent a fortune clearing your name. He's been waiting for you."

I said nothing.

My fingers tightened around the cool metal of the award. I glanced down at my left hand, at the simple gold band nestled beside my engagement ring.

Noah's ring.

Carol continued, her voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. "That whole food poisoning incident was blown way out of proportion. You should have given Jake time to fix things. Running off like that... it nearly destroyed him."

Her words were meant to paint Jake as a suffering hero.

All I heard was blame.

The name 'Jake Brown' felt foreign now. Three years is a long time. Long enough to heal, to rebuild, to find a love that didn't demand sacrifice as proof of devotion.

They clearly didn't know.

I pulled my hand from Carol's grasp. My voice was even, devoid of the storm that once raged inside me.

"Mrs. Brown," I said, my eyes meeting hers. "Jake and I ended things three years ago. I'm not sure why you're telling me all this."

The Brown family stared. Disbelief painted their faces.

They remembered the old Emily. The one who'd turned down a scholarship to the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park to work garde manger at Jake's upscale Chicago restaurant, just to be near him.

The Emily who'd prepped his mise en place before her own shift, who'd ghostwritten half his award-winning cookbook, who'd even taken the fall for a health code violation caused by his negligence.

All for a few crumbs of his affection.