The silence on the patio was deafening as Philip’s friends looked down at their plates in shame. Dominic told the crowd that people were paying top dollar to eat Isabella’s creations while Philip was telling everyone she couldn’t even fry an egg.
Philip turned pale and looked toward Isabella, who was standing in the doorway with her apron on, but she didn’t look tired or defeated anymore. She walked slowly to the center of the patio, unbuttoned her damp apron, and dropped it directly onto the hot coals of the grill.
“You were right about one thing, Philip,” Isabella said with a voice that was perfectly calm and steady. “I was never born to spend my life in this kitchen being your invisible servant.”
She watched as the fabric began to smoke and blacken, then she looked him in the eye one last time without a single tear. “From this moment on, I will never cook another meal for a man who hates me more than he loves the food I put on his table,” she declared.