Chasing His Kickass Luna Back
Chapter 0341

Abby

Today has been a whirlwind of frustration and disappointment.

After the health inspector shut down my restaurant and the news media turned against me, I know I have to do something. I can't just sit around and let my reputation crumble without a fight.

So, I decide to take matters into my own hands and try to unravel the mystery behind the string of unfortunate incidents that have befallen my business.

I've been pacing back and forth in my living room for nearly an hour, pondering how to go about this. My phone has practically been ringing nonstop, and finally, I decide to answer it with a sigh. It's Chloe.

"What is it?" I bark, far more sharply than I meant to.

Chloe pauses for a moment, and I can tell she's perturbed. “Abby, honey,” she finally says in a cautious tone, “are you okay?"

I stop my pacing, chewing my lower lip. “Well, not really,” I admit with a wry chuckle. “This is bullshit. All of it.”

“I know,” Chloe says with a sigh. “How are you holding up?”

I pause for a moment as I look around at my living room. It's a bit of a mess right now; at some point, during my frantic search for information, I dug through my filing cabinet to find the documents from the potential arson case that went nowhere. Papers are scattered all around my coffee table.

“I'm, um, fine,” I say. “Just trying to figure stuff out.”

She sighs again. “You're playing detective, aren't you?”

Her words hit home. She knows me too well; there's no sense in hiding it.

“Yeah, I'm trying to get to the bottom of it,” I say. “Chloe, my kitchen has always been spotless. Up until the cooking competition business started, I had never had a food poisoning outbreak; so how is it that, all of a sudden, I'm getting two back-to-back—one of which is the Alpha gathering?” Chloe is silent for several moments. My words all just came out in a rush, and I realize that I sound a little crazy right now.

"Abby," she says cautiously, “I understand where you're coming from. But—"

“No buts,” I say with an exasperated sigh. “I know this wasn’t my fault. And you can all think I'm crazy, but I'm getting to the bottom of this. Goodbye.”

Before Chloe can answer, I'm hanging up the phone and tossing it down on the couch, returning once more to my investigation.

First on my list is to review the CCTV footage from the restaurant. I spend hours going through the recordings, starting with the first food poisoning incident that occurred right before the cook-off.

I watch as my staff rushes around the kitchen, preparing the meal that we shared the day before the cook-off. But nothing is amiss, no matter how hard I search; they're all just as professional as ever, washing their hands, disinfecting tools, and cleaning surfaces.

Dead end.

Next, I examine the recordings from the night of the burst pipe and electrical outage. Right up until the point when the power went out, there's nothing. No hooded figures, no one shoving stuff down my drain, no one even walking in the general direction of the basement door.

Another dead end.

Feeling a bit more frustrated now, I move on to the recordings from the day of the Alpha party. I watch as my team and I prepare the food and set up the dining area.

Everything seems perfectly normal. Once again, the entire restaurant is spotless, and all of my staff are as professional as they possibly can be. I watch intently for hours until my head throbs, watching every movement, every tiny detail, over and over again.

But nothing is amiss.

Frustration gnaws at me as I continue to search through the footage, hoping to find some clue, some hint of foul play. But it's all in vain. The CCTV footage reveals nothing that can explain the outbreak.

I sigh and lean back in my chair, feeling defeated. It seems like I'm chasing shadows, and I have no leads to follow. But I can't give up. I have to keep digging, keep searching for answers.

I spend the rest of the night wondering what my next move should be. I barely sleep, barely eat, barely even rest. And by the time the sun comes up in the morning, I have a next step planned out. With renewed determination, I decide to pay a visit to the art gallery next door to my restaurant. The owner, Mr. Caldwell, is a snobbish man who has always been difficult to deal with, but I have known him for ages, and I have catered more than one gallery exhibition for him. I hope that our history will be enough to persuade him to cooperate.

I walk into the gallery and find Mr. Caldwell standing near one of the exhibits, his nose in the air as he examines a painting. I approach him, feeling a bit uneasy.

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