The smell of burnt coffee hits my nostrils before I even open my eyes. I know that smell. I know it because I burned that exact pot of coffee five years ago on the morning of the worst day of my life. My eyes snap open, and I'm staring at the water-stained ceiling of my old studio apartment—the one I moved out of three years ago. My heart hammers against my ribs as I bolt upright, taking in the cramped space, the secondhand furniture, the stack of loan documents on my desk. No. No, no, no. I grab my phone from the nightstand with shaking hands. The date glows back at me: September 15th. Five years ago. The day I'm supposed to sign the final papers for Chen's Table, my first restaurant. The day I'm supposed to meet Marcus Liu for the celebratory dinner where he'll smile that perfect smile and promise me the world. The day before he steals everything. I press my palms against my eyes, trying to make sense of this. Yesterday—or was it five years from now?—I was thirty-two years old, living in a shoebox apartment in Queens, writing restaurant reviews for a blog that barely paid my rent. My career was dead. My reputation was destroyed. All because I trusted Marcus Liu, the golden boy investor who convinced me to sign over majority ownership of my restaurant, then systematically pushed me out before selling it for millions. But this... this is impossible. I stumble to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. The mirror reflects a version of myself I haven't seen in years—twenty-seven, hopeful, with eyes that haven't yet learned what betrayal looks like. My phone buzzes with a text. *Marcus: Can't wait to celebrate tonight! You're going to change the culinary world, Jade. I believe in you.* My stomach turns. I remember this text. I remember reading it and feeling like I was floating. Like I'd finally made it. Not this time. I delete the message and open my contacts, scrolling past Marcus's name to the one below it: Adrian Liu. Marcus's older brother. The reclusive former chef who I met exactly once in my previous life, at a family dinner where he barely said two words. He'd seemed cold, judgmental, completely uninterested in my restaurant or my dreams. But I remember something else now, something I was too blinded by Marcus's charm to notice: the way Adrian had looked at my menu plans when Marcus wasn't watching. The way his fingers had traced the description of my signature dish. The way he'd opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again when Marcus interrupted. What if I got it wrong? What if I dismissed the wrong brother? My phone rings. Marcus. I let it go to voicemail. I have twelve hours before that signing dinner. Twelve hours to change everything. But I can't just avoid Marcus—he'll find another way in, another angle. I need a different strategy entirely. I need a partner he can't manipulate or push aside. Someone with more culinary credibility than I have. Someone with the reputation and expertise to match Marcus's business savvy. I need Adrian Liu. The problem? Adrian Liu hasn't cooked professionally in three years, not since his protégé died in a kitchen fire at his flagship restaurant. He's a ghost in the culinary world, and from what I remember, he wants to stay that way. I grab my jacket and head for the door. I don't have a plan, exactly. I don't even know if he'll talk to me. But I know where he lives—Marcus mentioned it once, complaining about his brother wasting away in some warehouse in Brooklyn. If I'm getting a second chance at my dream, I'm not making the same mistakes twice. Even if it means tracking down a hermit chef who probably wants nothing to do with me. Even if it means going after the brother everyone says is impossible. ---