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Chapter 141
Chapter 141:
“Sir?” Xavier whispered, horrified. “You can’t leave. The ceremonial signing is in an hour p>
“I have a prior engagement,” Elias said.
“With who? The President p>
“With an onion,” Elias muttered.
He walked out, leaving a room full of stunned executives.
In the car, he called a specialty grocer in Chelsea.
“Do you have the Oolong tea? The one from the Wuyi Mountains? Good. And saffron? The real kind, not the dyed corn silk. I’m coming p>
He picked up the groceries himself. He swiped his black card for a bag of ingredients that cost more than most people’s rent.
He arrived at the Thorne Estate in the Hamptons—he had decided the city penthouse kitchen was too… open. He needed privacy for his failure.
He dismissed the staff. All of them.
“Go,” he told the confused chef. “Take the night off p>
“But sir, your dinner p>
“I will sustain myself p>
When the house was empty, Elias took off his suit jacket. He rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He put on a black apron. It looked ridiculous on him.
He opened a cooking app on his tablet.
Lesson 1: The Art of the Broth.
“Simple,” Elias said. “It is chemistry. Heat plus water plus organic matter p>
He picked up a knife. He held it like a dagger.
He grabbed an onion.
𝕄𝖆𝗂𝗇 𝖈𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙𝗘𝗗 at
He began to chop.
Within seconds, his eyes were burning. Tears streamed down his face.
“Chemical warfare,” he hissed, blinking rapidly. “Why do people do this voluntarily p>
He wiped his eyes with his forearm, smearing onion juice on his expensive shirt.
He continued. Chop. Chop. Slice.
Ouch.
He dropped the knife. A thin line of red appeared on his index finger.
He stared at the blood. It was a minor cut, irrelevant. But it was proof of his incompetence.
He washed the finger, applied a bandage with military precision, and put on a latex glove.
“Germs contained,” he stated.
He threw the onions into the pot. He added water. He turned on the heat. He waited.
The pot boiled over.
Water hissed onto the gas burner. Smoke rose.
“Merde,” Elias cursed.
He scrambled to turn down the heat, burning his other hand on the lid.
He spent the next hour monitoring the pot like it was a volatile stock market. He skimmed the foam. He adjusted the seasoning.
