Chapter 5 - Tessa Carries The Old Cast-Iron Pot UpstairsDown in the kitchen, Tessa ladled the steaming, dark-brown oxtail stew into a heavy, elegant porcelain serving bowl.
The rich gravy coated the sides of the bowl, topped with a sprinkle of freshly chopped flat-leaf parsley.
She untied the white apron, handing it back to Fletcher with a calm, steady expression on her face.
“Is it ready?” Fletcher asked, his voice trembling slightly as he stared at the steaming presentation.
“It’s ready,” Tessa replied, lifting the heavy bowl onto a silver service tray with polished metal covers.
“You’re taking it up yourself?” Marisol asked in shock, stepping back from the line.
“Mr. Callahan requested the person who cooked it to deliver it personally,” Fletcher whispered, reading a text on his phone.
Tessa took a deep breath, adjusting her black server vest before walking toward the private service elevator.
The heavy iron doors slid shut with a metallic thud, sealing her inside the small, wood-paneled compartment.
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As the cable hummed upward toward the third floor, her hands didn't shake once.
She had survived six years of being ignored by elite chefs; serving a mafia boss was just another table.
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