The European Competition.
“Livia needs your help,” Bryan said without looking at me. “She said she forgot some ingredients in the recipe. To make sure Livia succeeds, you have to help her behind the scenes.”
“Are you serious?” I choked, fighting the urge to vomit. “After taking my recipe and my ticket, you also want me to help Livia win the competition of my dreams?”
Bryan stared at me intently. A look I’d never felt before.
“Just do as I say. Then our wedding will still go ahead.”
I spat. Rage flared in my chest. “Who wants a wedding? I want to leave you!”
Bryan just laughed. Loudly. “Leave where? Do you think you have a place to go? What culinary group would take in a cripple like you? You’re lucky I’m being kind enough to take you in.”
My eyes stung. My chest burned. Unable to take it anymore, I opened the car door to get out.
I wanted to jump.
I didn’t care if I got hurt. The pain of seeing my dream competition was torture enough.
But Bryan saw what I was doing. The moment the door opened, he actually sped up the car. A strong wind hit my face, making it hard to breathe. I wouldn’t just get hurt—I’d almost die for nothing if I jumped.