Page 7 of The Black Wife Blessing

"You okay?" Carla's voice cuts through my spiral. "You've got that look."

"What if I mess this up?" The words tumble out inadvertently. "If I disappoint them... Olivia and Celia will never work with me again. My career will be over before it even starts."

"Stop right there."

But my mind's already drifting to Benjamin's voice, those subtle digs that used to chip away at my confidence.You really think you can handle running your own kitchen? You'll crack under pressure. That's why you need me.I can still see his smug face, the way he'd lean against the counter watching me work, dropping those poisonous little comments that seemed helpful but were actually designed to keep me dependent on him.

"I can see you going there." Carla grabs my shoulders, forcing me to face her. "Whatever that asshole put in your head? It's bullshit. Complete and total bullshit."

"He always said I'd fold under pressure." My voice cracks. "That I wasn't cut out for this level of responsibility. That I needed him to succeed."

"Did you fold when the power went out during that wedding reception?" Carla's eyes lock with mine, fierce and unwavering. "Or when half your staff called out sick at the Williams event? No. You adapted. You crushed it. You fucking owned those disasters and turned them into triumphs while Benjamin was nowhere to be found."

The memories of those triumphs push against Benjamin's echoes, fighting for space in my mind. For every doubt he planted, there's a moment where I proved him wrong—where I shined without him.

"Olivia and Celia chose you because they saw what I see—a badass chef who turns challenges into opportunities. They don't make mistakes with who they hire." Carla releases my shoulders but keeps her gaze locked on mine. "Benjamin couldn't handle your success, so he tried to dim your light. He wanted youdependent on him because he knew damn well you could outshine him. Don't let him win now."

The produce section comes back into focus, grounding me. The vibrant colors of fresh vegetables, the earthy smell of herbs—this is my world, not his. She's right. I earned this opportunity through late nights, burnt fingers, and a refusal to give up. Benjamin's voice might still haunt me sometimes, slithering in during moments of doubt, but it doesn't get to define my future. Not anymore.

"Now." Carla picks up my tablet, her tone shifting to business. "Tell me more about these bourbon caramel soufflés. They sound fucking amazing, and I want to know exactly how you're planning to blow everyone's minds with them. Matter of fact, tell me about any dish you want to make. Which dish is the one you're most excited about?"

"So I'm thinking of doing these little bites throughout the night." I pull up my sketches on the tablet, showing Carla. "Starting with caviar pearls on brioche, then moving to duck confit spring rolls with plum sauce. For the mains, I want to do lamb lollipops with mint chimichurri, those black truffle mac and cheese bites, and mini lobster pot pies."

My fingers swipe through the images as I envision each dish floating through the party on elegant silver trays.

"Then for the grand finale, those bourbon chocolate soufflés we talked about, paired with salted caramel macarons and gold-dusted truffles."

"That's some serious fine dining." Carla nods approvingly. "Very on-brand for a billionaire's party."

In my mind, I can already see Leo Blackwood's guests savoring each bite, their eyes lighting up with pleasure. Olivia and Celia exchanging proud looks as the food becomes the talk of the evening. This could be my breakthrough moment, the one that puts my name on the map.

But then it hits me – the familiar tightness in my chest. The voice that sounds too much like Benjamin's.You're reaching too high. Playing with the big leagues when you're barely out of the minors.

My hand trembles as I reach for a bunch of fresh cilantro. The leaves blur before my eyes as memories surface – Benjamin hovering over my shoulder in our old apartment kitchen, critiquing every move, every decision.

No. Not today.I grip the herbs tighter, inhaling their sharp, clean scent. Focus on the present. On the fresh ingredients under my fingers. On Carla's steady presence beside me.

"I need Thai basil, microgreens, and edible flowers." I straighten my spine, pushing my cart forward with purpose. "And those specialty mushrooms from the Asian market across town."

Each ingredient I select is a small victory, a step further from who I used to be. The Benjamin in my head can doubt all he wants – I've got a party to plan for and a future to build.

6

HENRY

Istep into The Sapphire Crown Hotel's grand ballroom, gawking at the impressive interior. The venue drips with opulence - ice sculptures, champagne fountains, and floral arrangements that mystify you.

My cousin Leo stands near the center of the room, surrounded by the usual crowd of tech investors and startup founders. He spots me and breaks into a wide grin.

"There's my favorite cousin." Leo pulls me into a quick hug. "Though you're looking more like a stranger these days. When's the last time you graced us with your presence?"

"Happy birthday, old man." I hand him an envelope. "Though I might need that gift back since you invited Mother to this shindig."

Leo's eyes drift to where Olivia stands across the room, bouncing their son Thomas on her hip while chatting with some guests. "Come on, you know Aunt Catherine would've had my head if I left her out. Besides, she's been oddly cheerful lately."

"That's what worries me." I clear my throat, scanning the room. "When Mother's cheerful, she's usually plotting something."

"Paranoid much?" Leo chuckles, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Maybe she's just happy to see her son settling into the family business finally."

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