At another station, Mateo over-seared a component and swore under his breath, then scraped it off and began again with stubborn fury.
Mathew’s station looked like a set piece, clean, organised, composed. But his movements were too controlled, as if he were forcing himself not to show strain.
Eve watched him glance once, quick and sharp, toward the newbie’s station.
Just one look.
But it was enough.
Because it wasn’t curiosity.
It was calculation.
Tevin leaned forward at the judges’ table, eyes alive. “This is where people either become chefs or become excuses.”
Maxwell’s gaze was fixed on the floor like a sniper. “Watch the quiet one.”
Tevin glanced at him. “You’ve been watching the newbie?”
Maxwell didn’t blink. “They don’t waste motion.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he
