It had been exactly two weeks since I started working as Elliot’s private chef, and without hesitation, I could say the experience had been nothing short of wonderful. The kitchen no longer felt like a battlefield; it felt like breathing. I woke up every morning excited to experiment, to plate something beautiful, to hear the quiet hum of appreciation when he took the first bite. I’d even managed to visit my mother last weekend, arms full of gifts—freshly baked financiers, a bottle of her ...