The grand hall of Drake 9 fell into an expectant hush as the lights dimmed slightly, and a spotlight illuminated the stage. The Culinary Excellence Awards ceremony was officially underway, and the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Rebecca Darlington, apparently the host of the evening, stood at the podium, her sequined dress shimmering under the lights. Her voice carried through the venue with practiced elegance.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we honor the finest talents and establishments in the culinary world. From seasoned veterans to rising stars, each award is a celebration of artistry, dedication, and passion."
Applause erupted, filling the hall as the ceremony began. One by one, various awards were handed out, each winner stepping onto the stage to accept their honor. Rebecca introduced categories ranging from Best Gourmet Experience to Innovative Culinary Design, each winner greeted with cheers and applause.
Seated at their table, Hutton, Ling Fei, Bob, Vivian, and Kenneth watched the ceremony unfold. Ling Fei leaned closer to Hutton, her voice low. "It’s impressive how much attention this event garners. The world truly respects its chefs."
Hutton nodded absently, his sharp gaze scanning the hall between polite claps for the winners. "Respect isn’t given; it’s earned," he muttered, his mind always half-focused on the unseen threats lingering around them.
Finally, Rebecca smiled brightly as she opened the envelope for the next category. "And now, the award for Best Upcoming Restaurant of the Year. This award recognizes a restaurant that has shown extraordinary promise, creativity, and excellence in its first year of operation."
The room stilled, and the tension at Hutton’s table rose ever so slightly.
"The winner is…" Rebecca paused for dramatic effect, her smile widening as she read the name. "Green Clover Restaurant!"
A wave of applause rippled through the room, and Ling Fei placed a hand on Hutton’s arm. "Go on," she said with a small smile. "You earned this."
Hutton stood, adjusting his suit jacket before making his way to the stage. The applause grew louder as he climbed the steps, his movements calm and composed. Rebecca handed him the award—a sleek golden sculpture shaped like a spatula—and gestured toward the microphone.
"Congratulations, Mr. Maxwell," Rebecca said warmly.
Hutton inclined his head slightly, his voice steady as he addressed the crowd. "Thank you. This award is not just a recognition of Green Clover but a testament to the hard work and creativity of my entire team. We strive to create more than just meals; we aim to craft experiences. Thank you for believing in our vision."
Applause filled the hall again as Hutton stepped back, holding the award firmly in his hand.
Meanwhile, at a table near the edge of the room, Veronica sat stiffly, her mind a chaotic whirlwind. She had barely been paying attention to the ceremony, her anxiety only growing with each passing moment. Suddenly, her eyes caught movement in the distance.
Sean.
He stood partially obscured by the shadows near an unlit corner of the hall, his sharp, calculating gaze locked on her. He raised his hand subtly, giving her a distinct signal—a slight tilt of his head followed by two fingers pointing downward. The meaning was clear: Get it done.
Veronica’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked away quickly, her hands clenching in her lap. She felt trapped, her father’s threats ringing in her ears alongside the unspoken menace of Sean’s presence. Her breathing quickened as the weight of the situation pressed down on her.
Hutton was descending the stage now, the award in hand, the spotlight still lingering on him as he made his way back to his table. Veronica’s gaze followed him, a pang of guilt and fear twisting her stomach. She knew what she had to do, but every fiber of her being screamed against it.
’Hutton… I’m so sorry,’ she thought, her fingers trembling as she steeled herself for what was to come.
As Hutton returned to his seat, placing the golden spatula-shaped award on the table, Ling Fei gave him an approving nod. "Well said, Mr. Maxwell. You certainly know how to command a stage."
Hutton smirked faintly, but before he could respond, a soft but anxious voice interrupted.
"Hutton," Veronica said as she was now standing beside the table. Her hands were clasped tightly, and there was a subtle tremor in her voice. "I… I need to ask you for a favor."
He raised an eyebrow, his expression guarded. "What is it?"
"I was hoping you could come with me to meet an acquaintance of mine," she said hurriedly, her eyes darting nervously around the room. "It’s important."
Hutton frowned. "Can’t you go by yourself?"
Veronica hesitated, biting her lip. "I—I don’t know why, but… I’ve been feeling like someone’s watching me," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I’d really rather not go alone."
The table fell silent. Ling Fei’s gaze sharpened, and Bob leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable. Vivian, meanwhile, narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied Veronica.
Hutton remained quiet, his eyes locked on Veronica’s face. Her nervousness seemed genuine, but he could also sense that there was more to her story. He let the silence linger for a moment longer before sighing and rising to his feet.
"Fine," he said curtly. "Let’s go."
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Veronica visibly relaxed, a small, shaky smile forming on her lips. "Thank you."
As they turned to leave, Vivian’s voice cut through the air, laced with thinly veiled jealousy. "Don’t take too long, Hutton. Some of us would like to enjoy your company tonight, too."
Hutton glanced back briefly, his expression neutral. "We won’t be long."
Veronica looked down, her hands wringing together as she avoided Vivian’s piercing gaze.
Meanwhile, Bob watched them leave, his hazelnut eyes narrowing slightly. There was no hint of emotion on his face, but the intensity of his stare suggested his mind was working through countless possibilities. As the two disappeared into the crowd, he leaned back, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table.
"Well," Ling Fei said with a small smirk, breaking the silence, "this evening just got a little more interesting."
Bob didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the path Hutton and Veronica had taken. Something about the situation felt off, and he had a sinking feeling they were walking into trouble.
The quiet hum of the bustling crowd in Drake 9’s grand hall gradually faded as Veronica led Hutton down a quieter corridor. The gleaming walls, adorned with culinary-themed art and minimalist sconces, reflected the soft glow of overhead lights. Their footsteps echoed faintly in the hushed space, the sounds growing more pronounced with each step they took away from the main event.
Hutton’s expression was calm, his hands resting in his pockets, but his senses were on high alert. Something about the way Veronica carried herself—her stiff shoulders, the slight tremor in her breathing—told him she wasn’t just nervous. She was afraid.
"I hope you don’t think I’m wasting your time," Veronica began softly, her voice wavering slightly.
Hutton glanced at her, his face unreadable. "That depends. Where exactly are we going?"
She didn’t answer right away, her steps faltering as she seemed to collect her thoughts. "It’s not far," she said evasively, before quickly adding, "You know, sometimes life puts us in places we don’t want to be, and we have to make choices… choices we might regret."
Hutton’s brow lifted ever so slightly. "Regret, huh? Sounds like you’re speaking from experience."
Veronica offered a small, forced laugh, but her eyes didn’t meet his. "Maybe I am," she admitted. "Or maybe I’ve just seen how easily people can lose control of their own lives. It’s not always their fault, you know. Sometimes… they don’t have a choice."
Her words hung in the air, laced with layers of meaning that she wasn’t saying outright. Hutton didn’t need to be a mind reader to pick up on the desperation hidden beneath her tone.
"You’re awfully philosophical for someone who came here for an awards ceremony," Hutton said lightly, his tone casual, as if they were simply making small talk. "But I suppose everyone has their struggles."
Veronica’s steps slowed slightly, and she turned to glance at him. There was something almost pleading in her eyes. "What if… someone you cared about—someone who means the world to you—was in danger? Would you do something you didn’t want to do to protect them?"
Hutton’s gaze didn’t falter, though a flicker of understanding passed through his mind. Her words weren’t just rhetorical; they were a veiled confession. She was in a precarious situation, and he was now a part of it, whether he liked it or not.
"That’s a tough question," he replied evenly. "I guess it depends on what I’d have to do. Some lines aren’t meant to be crossed."
Veronica’s shoulders tensed, and she looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes, you don’t get to choose where the line is."
Hutton said nothing, allowing the silence to stretch between them as they walked. Internally, his thoughts were racing. She’s trapped. Someone’s pulling her strings. And I’m the bait.
He didn’t let any of this show on his face, maintaining his calm and detached demeanor. "Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your mind," he said after a moment. "If you need help with something, you can just ask."
Veronica shook her head quickly, her voice rising slightly in panic. "No, it’s nothing like that. I just… I thought you’d understand."
Hutton smiled faintly, as if he believed her. "Sure," he said simply, his tone indifferent.
But inside, he was piecing everything together—the tremor in her voice, the fear in her eyes, the way she avoided saying too much. Whoever was manipulating her was using her fear against her, and now they were using her to get to him.
As they continued down the corridor, Hutton kept his pace steady, his posture relaxed. He wouldn’t let on that he knew the game they were playing. Not yet. For now, he’d let them think they had the upper hand.