Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 250

Abby

The stage lights feel even more blinding now from the tears in my eyes. A makeup artist darts around, dabbing my face with powder to cover the streaks from crying. In more ways than one, I’m glad this hell is almost over; right now, I’m just looking forward to getting this damn makeup off.

Finally, the director counts down from three, and it feels as though we’ve done this a million times before. The crowd cheers, the music plays, the announcer struts across the stage. And me? I’m standing here like a statue, my smile just as fake as my manicured eyelashes.

Daniel stands next to me, shoulder to shoulder, and I can feel the hatred emanating off of him. He stands tall and proud, the perfect picture of arrogance.

He doesn’t say a word to me, because he doesn’t need to. He already said everything he needed to say earlier. He got his digs in, made his sharp words stab me to my core. There’s no point now.

I can sense the satisfaction coursing through his veins as he stands beside me, the realization that he won—not just in the competition, but in life—washing over both of us. In just a few minutes, he’ll get exactly what he wants. Not only a trophy, but to beat a woman down to nothing.

The announcer turns to Daniel first, his voice echoing across the studio. “Daniel, you’ve shown immense skill throughout this competition. As we come to a close, how are you feeling about your performance?”

Daniel’s lips twist into a smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.

“Confident,” he says without skipping a beat. “The true winner today will be more than just a lovable personality…” he sneers subtly, casting a sidelong glance at me. “He will be a skilled chef.”

The message is clear, and the gleam in his eye is sharp, almost predatory.

Heat creeps up into my cheeks as the crowd applauds. The announcer then turns to me, his eyes meeting mine. “Abby, you’ve become a favorite for many during this competition. Tell us, what has this experience meant to you?”

My gaze lifts to the audience, to the sea of faces that seem to blur together into one. There are fewer signs with my name now thanks to my failures, and the realization leaves a hole in my chest.

But then, there she is—the little girl in the third row with her chef’s hat falling into her eyes. Her eyes are just as wide and bright as ever, and she still holds up her little sign in her tiny hand, a grin spread across her face.

I can feel the lump in my throat, but I push through… because I’m reminded of why I’m here, even if I don’t win.

I’m here for her.

“This competition,” I start, my voice surprisingly steady, “has been an extraordinary journey. As a female chef in this incredible, challenging field, I’m just happy to have been here. To show that we—” I pause, my heart in my throat, “—that I can stand toe to toe with the best.”

I take a breath, the air tasting thick. “And maybe, just maybe,” I continue, “my presence here will inspire others. That future female chefs will push even harder, making sure our skills—and our voices—are not only recognized, but also respected.”

There’s a ripple through the crowd, a murmur of acknowledgment, of support, maybe. Or maybe it’s just the sound of anticipation as everyone waits for the results.

The announcer’s voice then cuts through the murmurings.