The day after tomorrow. My birthday. Livia knew that for sure. And she even wanted to steal it from me.
“Sure,” I nodded weakly. “I’ll do my best for your restaurant.”
The next day, Livia burdened me with such a heavy task. Not cooking, but acting like a waitress. I was told to make coffee for my former subordinates at the association. They were invited. And of course, they hated me.
“Oh, so this is the once-proud star chef, now just a servant,” said a junior member I’d once scolded for cheating at the culinary association.
When she tried my coffee, she spit it all over my shirt. The others laughed while I screamed.
“What are you doing? Clean my shirt!” I shouted furiously.
“Clean it? Who do you think you are?” She laughed. “The coffee’s bitter. It’s awful, what did you put in it? Make another one!”
I almost slapped each of them. But I quickly calmed myself down, telling myself that this would all be over soon.
That evening, Livia assigned me to handle a lot of things. She trusted me so much because I’d done all my work exceptionally well. I’d been playing the role of the repentant, obedient one.
But in reality, I was orchestrating everything.
One by one. Without a single flaw.
First.