Heartburn Pt. 1 Rachael Cavalli -

“Is fine .” She handed back the tablet. “I’m going to the office.”

Rachael Cavalli grabbed her phone, deleted Luca’s text without reading it again, and called Marco back in.

A knock. Marco again, this time with a folded piece of parchment paper. “Delivery. From Fuoco .” heartburn pt. 1 rachael cavalli

She scanned the numbers. Her signature black kale salad, the one that had put Vivace on the map, was bleeding money. “Substitute chard. Adjust the plating. No one will notice.”

She picked up the uneaten crostino, walked to the trash, and dropped it in. “Is fine

Marco’s eyebrows rose. “Chef, the prep schedule—”

She stood in the gleaming pass of Vivace , her flagship restaurant, watching a busboy whisk the offending dessert toward a table of food critics from The Chronicle . The dish was perfect—airy mascarpone, espresso-soaked ladyfingers crumbled like dark earth, a single curl of dark chocolate—but its existence on her menu was a daily reminder of compromise. Of him . Marco again, this time with a folded piece

The heartburn had started three months ago, the same week her ex-husband, Luca, opened Fuoco across town.