Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 230

A little girl with a costume chef’s hat on. It’s a little too big for her head, causing it to fall into her eyes. She pushes it up out of her face, shooting me a toothless grin as she holds up a handmade sign that reads, in haphazard crayon…

“ABBY, U R MY HERO!”

Tears come to my eyes, but I blink them away. Suddenly, I’ve found my voice again. I clear my throat, stand up straight, and start to speak.

“I want to say how grateful I am to stand here as a woman in a profession that has long been dominated by men. And not just as a woman, but as someone who believes in the power of diversity, of giving chances to those who are often overlooked.”

I pause, choosing my words carefully. “But it’s not just about me,” I continue, “it’s about all of us here. The incredible chefs who have come to compete, the staff who make this show possible, and you—the audience, who make us want to be better.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daniel roll his eyes, his scowl deepening. For a moment, I contemplate going further, confronting his negativity right here and now, but that won’t work here. It’s not right. It’s not me.

“Again, thank you for all of the love,” I continue, “but please, I ask you to extend the same love to my opponents—no, not my opponents, but rather my partners, my fellow chefs—because, at the end of the day, we’re all here for the same reason: to celebrate the art of cooking, to challenge ourselves, and most of all, to engage in a friendly competition.”

A tidal wave of applause and cheers takes over the studio. I lean back from the microphone, my eyes sweeping across the faces of the audience, then to my fellow contestants, and lastly to Karl, who gives me an approving nod.

“No matter who takes home the prize today,” I add, “what truly matters is that we come together as a community, cheering each other on, despite our hang-ups and reservations. That’s the real victory, and it’s one we can all share.”

My eyes meet Daniel’s once more. He’s still scowling at me, but I suddenly don’t care anymore. Because to me, the most important thing is that little girl in the audience—her hat too big for her head, her grin missing teeth, and her heart full of admiration. And even if I don’t win today, I will try my hardest… for her.

The announcer grins, taking the microphone back. “What a lovely speech,” he begins, to which there’s another round of cheers before he continues. “Abby, the crowd clearly loves you, but we’re all dying to know— who is your sous chef for today?”

My eyes dart to Karl, whose eyes glint in the lights.