The salty ocean breeze swept across the pristine teakwood deck of the Azure Harbor Marina, yet the elite crowd remained frozen in a suffocating, heavy silence, since the highly respected culinary historian was still kneeling on the floor weeping over a dark root.
Chef Francois stood behind his designated prep station, as his face turned a sickly, ashen shade of gray, staring at his pristine two-million-dollar Alba White Truffle resting under the silver cloche.
His grand masterpiece had just been turned into an insignificant joke in a matter of seconds, and his fragile, aristocratic pride shattered into a million tiny pieces, because his narrow mind simply could not process how a common hotel cook possessed a mythical artifact worth hundreds of millions.
Instead of accepting defeat with grace, the crushing humiliation mutated into blinding, venomous jealousy, forcing Francois to abandon all professional decorum as he stomped directly toward the center presentation table.
