Mr. Billionaire: His Last Dinner

"You burned it."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did." Chef Marco lifted the pan and gave Elara a look. "You're not even watching the heat."

Elara let out a breath and stepped back. "Sorry. I'll do it again."

He stared at her for a second, then put the pan down and softened his voice. "What's wrong with you today? Your hands are shaking. You look like you've seen a ghost."

She gave a weak smile and grabbed another pan. "Just tired. That's all."

It was a lie. She wasn't tired. She was terrified. And not because of the dinner rush, or the pressure, or even the five-course meal she had to lead tonight. It was who she was cooking for.

The Cole family.

Her stomach flipped just thinking about it.

She turned back to the stove and tried to focus, but her heart was beating too fast. She'd practiced this menu for weeks. Every single dish had been tested ten times. She knew the timing. She knew the flavor. But she hadn't known who the guest of honor was until five minutes ago, when she heard that voice in the hallway.

That voice,that familiar voice.

She hadn't heard it in five years. But the moment she did, it all came back.

"Elara, salmon in eight," Marco said behind her.

"On it," she answered, trying to steady her voice.

She picked up the fish and began to season it, her hands moving automatically. Salt, Pepper, Lemon. Just like always. But nothing felt normal. Because tonight, in this very resort kitchen, just two rooms away, was the man who had once made her feel like the world was hers.

And the same man who disappeared without goodbye.

Damian Cole.

She hadn't said his name in years.

She hadn't allowed herself to even whisper it. But now, it rang in her head like a bell.

He was here. In the building. Probably wearing one of his thousand-dollar suits.

"Elara." Lily's voice broke her spiral. "You okay?"

Elara looked up. Her best friend stood across the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She was the pastry chef tonight, calm as ever.

"Yeah. Just... trying not to mess this up."

Lily stepped closer. "You heard he's here, didn't you?"

Elara didn't answer.

Lily touched her arm gently. "You don't have to pretend. I know what he meant to you."

"I'm fine," Elara said, too fast.

"No, you're not. But I get it." Lily sighed. "You've worked too hard to let him mess with your head again. Cook. Plate. Serve. That's all tonight is. You can cry tomorrow."

Elara let out a dry laugh. "Thanks. That actually helped."

Lily smiled. "Of course. Now get that salmon in the pan before Marco explodes."

Elara did just that.

The next hour moved very fast. Elara didn't let herself think. She didn't let herself feel anything, She just cooked.

But the moment the appetizers were gone, and the soup course was plated, it happened.

"Elara," a server said, poking her head in. "The main guest asked to meet the chef."

She froze. "What?"

"The guest of honor. Damian Cole. He said he wants to thank whoever created the menu."

Elara's stomach dropped.

Chef Marco turned to her. "Go. Don't keep a Cole waiting."

Her palms started to sweat and her chest tightened. But she kept walking.

The doors opened.

Then she saw him.

Damian.

He was sitting at the center of the long table, wearing a black suit that fit too well. His hair was a little shorter than she remembered, but still messy at the top. His eyes,those same dark eyes met hers the second she stepped into the room.

His lips parted just slightly.

He recognized her.

"Elara?" he said, pushing back from the table.

She didn't move.

For a moment, the room faded. Not like a dream. Not like in a movie. Everything got quiet. She remembered how he used to say her name like it was the only one he wanted to say. And she remembered how that same voice had disappeared, leaving her with nothing.

"You made this?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, voice steady now.

He stood. The people at the table watched, but he didn't care. "I didn't know you worked here."

"I do," she said. "And tonight, I'm just the chef."

Something shifted in his eyes. Regret, maybe. Or something close to it. "You look... good."

She nodded. "Thanks. Enjoy your meal."

Then she turned and walked out without letting him say another word.

Her knees almost buckled when the doors closed behind her. But she didn't cry. Not yet.

Back in the kitchen, Marco raised an eyebrow. "What'd he want?"

"Nothing," she said. "Let's finish this."

The next two courses were hell. Her hands moved on their own, but her head was a mess. She didn't want to think about his face. Or his voice. Or the way his eyes softened when he saw her.

She didn't want to think about what it meant.

But she did.

And when the final dessert went out, and the staff started cleaning up, she slipped outside.

She didn't smoke. She didn't even like the smell. But she needed air.

"You always needed air after a big service."

She turned fast.

He was standing there.

Alone, No guards Just him.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I saw your name on the menu and thought maybe it was someone else."

"You should've kept walking."

"I couldn't."

She looked away.

"I know I don't have the right to talk to you," he said. "I know I left without a word. But I'm here now."

"Too late."

He stepped closer. "I thought I was doing you a favor, Elara. Back then. I thought walking away would let you have a better life."

She laughed bitterly. "You didn't even give me a choice."

"I was wrong."

She stared at him. "Why now? Why come back?"

He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, the back door slammed open.

Vanessa Cole stepped out, heels clicking on the stone.

"There you are," she said to Damian. "Dad wants you at the table. They're about to toast the new deal."

Elara blinked. "What deal?"

Vanessa smiled, sharp and cruel. "The one that's going to clear out those sad little shops downtown. Including your restaurant. What's it called again? Elara's Table?"

Elara's blood turned to ice.

Damian looked stunned.

"You didn't know?" Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him. "She opened a place. Small. Cute. About to be crushed by our newest project."

She smirked at Elara. "Guess the kitchen really is the only place you belong."

Elara stepped back, heart pounding.

Damian's face changed. His eyes darted between the two women.

"Elara-"