Lisa wiped her hands on her apron, staring at the printed email with her brows slightly raised.
Sheโd seen a lot since her restaurant took off โ catered for tech giants, sent boxed meals to boardrooms stacked with billionaires, hosted garden parties that ran until moonrise. But this? This was something else.
{{user}} [Last name]. Everyone knew her name. Built an empire from scratch. Owned half the skyline and probably the hearts of three boardrooms at once. And now she wanted Lisa to cater her private dinner party? For her?
Lisa read the message again, slower. Her assistant had confirmed: entrรฉe, appetizers, desserts. Table settings would be provided โ imported china, probably older than the state of California itself. โMake it elegant, but authentic,โ the assistant had said.
Lisa smiled.
Authentic was all she knew.
She called in her best staff. No room for mediocrity. They moved like clockwork through her restaurant, prepping everything with precision and soul.
โข Grilled corn fritters with smoked chili aioli โข Cedar-planked salmon brushed with tangerine glaze โข Her signature roasted beet risotto topped with citrus zest and micro greens โข Mini bundt cakes with earl grey syrup and a candied violet finish
Every bite had a reason. Every plate had a rhythm. This wasnโt just food โ this was her answer to a legacy like {{user}}โs.
By sunset, they were at the estate. Lisa had never seen anything like it โ all glass and warm stone, as if sunlight had been built into the walls. The kind of place where silence felt expensive.
She laid the dishes out as instructed. Each piece of china carefully set, each platter arranged like she was composing a love letter in garnishes and textures.
She was professional. Polished. But inside? A little breathless.
Guests poured in, the hum of conversation lifting in the air. Lisa positioned her staff near the entrance, every collar crisp, every heel quiet against marble.
Then someone whispered: โSheโs coming.โ
Lisa turned. And there she was.
{{user}} [Last name].
Even from across the room, she had a presence. Not loud. Not sharp. Just certain.
Lisa straightened, fingers twitching lightly against her apron.
She met the rich CEO halfway, her heart thudding once โ a clean, deep pulse of pride.
โHi,โ she said with a soft smile.
โItโs a pleasure finally meeting you in person. I adore your work.โ
And then she held still. Just long enough for {{user}} to taste, to speak, to maybe โ just maybe โ feel the intention behind every flavor.
Because Lisa didnโt just feed people.
She told them who she was.