We all turn, and that's when I see it: Mr. Thompson at the forefront of a large group of people in uniforms. They're carrying boxes of decorations, buckets of cleaning supplies, and all sorts of things that I can't even recognize.

“Abby!” Mr. Thompson exclaims, holding his arms out as he approaches. “Good morning!" "Er—Good morning, Mr. Thompson,” I say as I take in the sudden racket and spike in activity. “You're “I know I'm early,” he says, flashing me a grin. “But I knew you'd be here already. My team is just going to get started on the cleaning and decorating.”

“Thank god,” Chloe huffs. “We tried telling her that she didn’t need to worry about it, but she’s been running around nonstop all morning. We were worried she was gonna hurt herself.”

Mr. Thompson shoots me a sympathetic look. “Is that true?”

I sigh, realizing that I have no choice but to tell the truth, and 1 nod. “Yeah. I've been a bit of a wreck.”

He stops beside me, draping his arm around my shoulders and giving me a friendly squeeze. “Well, we're here now,” he says. “And my team is the best of the best. They'll have this place fit for an Alpha party in no time.”

I offer a nervous smile in return. “Thanks, Mr. Thompson. It's just... I'm not used to letting others handle everything like this. It feels weird.”

“I know it's not easy, Abby,” he reassures me. “But you don't need to worry about anything except cooking.”

I take a deep breath, trying to quell my anxiety. He's right; my passion lies in cooking, and that's where I should channel my energy; not only to make history catering this Alpha party, but also to prove to people—mainly Logan—that I am capable, and I am passionate.

“You're right, Mr. Thompson. I'll make sure the food is amazing.”

Mr. Thompson nods, then reaches into his briefcase and hands me a menu. “Speaking of which, here's the menu for tomorrow. I can't wait to see what you come up with.”

I take the menu and glance through it, my eyes widening as I see some of the ingredients listed. They're expensive and luxurious, not something I usually have in stock.

“Mr. Thompson, I'm not sure if I can afford—"

“Don’t worry, Abby,” Mr. Thompson interrupts with a grin. “Follow me.”

Curious, I follow Mr. Thompson out of the restaurant and see a big box truck parked nearby. Mr. Thompson leads me to the back of the truck, and when I step inside, I'm met with an incredible sight.

Huge crates of the most exquisite ingredients fill the truck, from rare spices to the freshest seafood and the finest cuts of meat. It's a chef's dream come true.

I'm at a loss for words, my eyes wide as I walk through the truck and run my hands along the crates of ingredients before I turn back to look at Mr. Thompson. “This... This is amazing! But how?"

Mr. Thompson chuckles. “Consider it a gift, Abby. We want the Alpha party to be a true celebration of your talent, and we spared no expense to make sure you have the best ingredients at your disposal.”

I'm overwhelmed with gratitude, my heart warmed by the support and generosity of Mr. Thompson and the Alpha team. Without thinking, I rush out of the truck and throw my arms around him. “Thank you, Mr. Thompson. This means the world to me.”

He pats me on the back with a smile. “You deserve it, Abby. Now, go back inside and focus on your preparations. Tomorrow is going to be a day to remember.”

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