Page 76 of Knot Your Sugar

“I knew it,” Parker says, each word steeped in smug triumph. “I told you they were together before the competition.”

Judge Chen stands just behind him, her expression shifting from shock to disappointment. “Ms. Avery,” she says evenly, “this is a direct violation of the competition’s code of conduct. Any intimate relationship between a contestant and a judge is grounds for immediate disqualification.”

“You’re out,” Parker adds, enjoying every syllable.

The words hit me like a sledgehammer. Disqualified. All my work, all my preparation, all my dreams. Gone in an instant of weakness.

"You can't—" I start, but Chen raises a hand to stop me.

"The rules are clear, Elena. I'm sorry."

Dorian straightens his jacket, his face unreadable. "This is as much my fault as hers," he begins.

Chen inclines her head, her voice careful but firm as she cuts him. "Unfortunately, Mr. Beaumont, we can’t turn a blind eye to this. The integrity of the festival is everything. I hope you understand."

They turn and leave as Dorian and I stand in horrible silence among the bushes. The moment that had been so urgent just minutes ago now feels sordid and foolish.

"Elena, I—" Dorian starts.

"Don't," I cut him off, trying to straighten my chef's jacket. "Just... don't."

I expect him to argue, to offer some comfort or solution. Instead, he gives me one last unreadable look and walks away, leaving me alone among the rhododendron.

* * *

When I return to my station, moving on autopilot, my beautiful tart sits cooled on the rack, the fruits arranged in preparation for the final assembly I'll never complete.

A commotion at the entrance of the competition area draws my attention. Pierre strides toward me, his face a thundercloud.

"Pierre? What are you doing here?" I ask stupidly.

“What am I doing here?” he repeats, his accent thickening with emotion. “I told you I’d be back in time for the final. I was watching the competition and I just got a call that my apprentice was caught in a compromising position with a judge and disqualified. And you ask what I’m doing here?”

The nearby contestants pretend not to listen, but their stiff postures give them away.

“I was just… packing up,” I manage, my voice flat, detached from my own body.

“Good,” he mutters. Then he leans in, his voice a harsh whisper. “This is a small town, Elena. In an hour, everyone will know what happened. I can’t have that kind of scandal tied to my bakery. Do you haveanyidea how disappointed I am? I had high hopes for you.”

The words don’t register at first. My brain stalls.

"You're… firing me?"

“Effective immediately,” he says without hesitation. “I want you out of the apartment by tomorrow.” He straightens his cuffs.

The blow lands before I can brace for it. My knees buckle, and I catch myself on the edge of the table. Not just disqualified, but fired. Homeless. Everything gone in a single, stupid hour.

“But—it wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” I stammer, but the words feel weightless.

Pierre just shakes his head. The disappointment rolling off him feels heavier than anger. “I thought you were different, Elena. I thought you understood what it meant to be a professional.”

Then he turns and walks away, without another glance. No goodbye. No forgiveness.

I stand there, surrounded by the quiet buzz of the festival continuing without me. My vision blurs, hot tears slipping down my cheeks as I slide the rolling pin I'd brought for good luck into my bag, right next to my everyday clothes.

When I sling the bag over my shoulder and glance up, I catch James watching me from his station, frozen, eyes wide with confusion and something that looks like heartbreak. He doesn’t say a word.

Cole is nowhere to be seen.

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