The chef, a distinguished figure with a commanding presence, approached our table with a warm smile playing on his lips. He nodded graciously at me before addressing the group in a voice that carried both authority and warmth.
“Good evening, everyone. I hope you’re enjoying your meal.” His eyes fell on me, and the look conveyed a silent solidarity. “It’s been a privilege to prepare tonight’s dinner, especially when I have the honor of serving one of our city’s most cherished philanthropists.”
Marlene’s laughter disappeared, replaced by a confused, slightly worried look. My son shifted in his seat, glancing between the chef and me as if trying to piece together a puzzle he hadn’t known existed.
