Chapter 51

With a single hand, Noelle cracked the egg, the egg white and yolk drawing a perfect arc through the air before landing smoothly in the bowl.

Knife and fork swiftly whisked the eggs into a frothy mixture. Next came the diced ham, followed by corn, peas, shrimp, and other fresh ingredients.

The gas burner roared to life, heating the iron pan.

Oil sizzled as the egg mixture was poured in, swiftly scrambled into fluffy curds.

In went the cold pasta, coated in the creamy eggs that hadn't fully set yet.

Diced ham, corn, peas, and shrimp joined the mix, all tossed together in the pan.

Despite her petite frame, Noelle wielded the heavy iron pan with surprising strength, flipping the contents into the air with a single hand.

The ingredients formed a perfect semicircle in mid-air before landing back in the pan.

Every motion was sharp, fluid, and effortlessly elegant.

Though it was just fried pasta, the process had the grace of a master artist at work.

From preparing the ingredients to plating the egg fried pasta, it took Noelle less than ten minutes.

Two large plates were placed on the table.

Each portion was served with a rounded spoonful, forming a perfect dome.

A garnish of fresh cilantro added a touch of vibrant green, elevating the simple egg fried pasta to the level of a Michelin-worthy dish.

"All done!" Noelle placed the plates in front of Vincent and Kimberly, her eyes crinkling into a smile. "Mom, Dad, give it a try!"

The couple sat there in stunned silence, still processing the sheer skill Noelle had just displayed. Kimberly stared at Noelle, wide-eyed.

"Noelle, you really are a master chef…" Though Kimberly didn't cook often, she was a passionate food enthusiast. Half of Vincent's study was filled with her culinary books. She knew that even something as simple as egg fried pasta could be a litmus test for a chef's fundamentals.

And Noelle's precision and skill just now? Absolutely master level.

"Of course, I am! I told you already," Noelle said with a bright smile. "Now hurry up and try it. Egg fried pasta is best when it's hot!"

"Alright," Kimberly chuckled and picked up her spoon. The moment the pasta touched her tongue, her eyes lit up. Her admiration for Noelle soared to new heights. From this day forward, Noelle was officially her idol.

Vincent, though quieter, expressed his approval by finishing his plate clean. He hadn't expected Noelle to have so many hidden talents. If he had one complaint, it was that the portion size wasn't big enough…

Leia would never have guessed that while she was sweating and struggling through military training at school, Noelle was winning over Kimberly and Vincent with a single dish of egg fried pasta.

Kimberly's newfound interest in cooking meant Noelle, with her free time and absence from school, stayed home to teach her. Under Noelle's guidance as a master chef, Kimberly's culinary skills improved by leaps and bounds. Her smiles grew brighter, and every dish she uttered tasted sweeter than the last.

One morning, Kimberly woke up early and found Noelle already downstairs. Smiling warmly, she walked over. "Noelle, why are you up so early! What dish are we learning today?"

"Good morning, Mom!" Noelle greeted her mother cheerfully, then said, "No cooking lessons today."

"Oh? Why not?" Kimberly asked, a little surprised. "Are you heading back to school?"

"Nope," Noelle replied, shaking her head. She smiled. "Damon has a race today. I want to go cheer for him."

"The track's pretty far, so I need to leave soon."

"Oh…" Kimberly suddenly remembered Damon mentioning his upcoming race before he left. She hadn't paid much attention at the time, but it touched her to see Noelle, despite Damon's cold attitude, still remembering and caring about his race. "Noelle, I didn't expect you to remember Damon's race. That's so thoughtful of you."

Considering how distant Damon had been toward Noelle, most people would have avoided him entirely. But Noelle didn't seem to hold a grudge and was even willing to support him. The more time Kimberly spent with Noelle, the more endearing her daughter became.

"Mom, do you want to come with me?" Noelle asked.

"Come with you? Sure, why not?" Kimberly agreed. She didn't have anything pressing to do at home, and if Damon acted out again, at least she'd be there to mediate.

They arrived at Racing League Ciment in Elysian City. The track was packed with racing fans. The stands at the finish line were overflowing, flags waving wildly, and the roar of cheers filled the air.

Amid the cacophony, one name echoed above all others: "Storm Chasers," the star team of the day. It was also the team Damon belonged to. Damon was not only part of the team but its ace, the top-seeded champion for the tournament.

"Damon! Damon! Damon!"

A group of seven or eight young women, dressed provocatively, gathered outside the team's lounge. Waving light sticks and banners, they screamed Damon's name nonstop. In the world of racing, Damon, young, handsome, and immensely talented, was undoubtedly a superstar.

Inside the lounge, Damon sat on the sofa, legs crossed, wearing his racing suit. His chiseled, handsome face was devoid of expression, which only added to his cold, magnetic appeal.

The door opened, and a man in a burgundy suit strolled in. Spotting Damon, he walked over and slung an arm around his shoulders, grinning. "Hey, Damon! You're such a troublemaker, man. There's a whole crowd of girls outside screaming your name. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were some celebrity from the entertainment industry!"

Damon didn't respond, his gaze fixed on his phone.

As time passed, his expression darkened, and the air around him grew colder. Noticing the shift in Damon's mood, the man removed his arm and asked, "What's up? You've been staring at your phone – is it your girlfriend?"

Another racer nearby chuckled. "Brice, stop joking. Damon's upset because his sister hasn't texted him yet."

"Seriously? That's what this is about?" Brice laughed, finding it absurd. He glanced at Damon and teased, "Don't tell me you're a sister-obsessed control freak, Damon."

"Shut up," Damon snapped, his eyes glued to his screen. No texts. Frustrated, he tossed his phone aside and glared at his teammates. "Do you really think I care about that? Grow up."

"Sure, keep pretending," Brice smirked. "It wasn't like you were staring at your phone earlier, waiting for your sister's message, were you?"

Damon answered in a cold voice, then sneered and said, "I'm not a child, so what if she didn't send me a message? Do you really think I care! What are you thinking?"

"Just keep pretending. Say whatever you want." Damon shrugged, pretending to be indifferent.

Just then, a young man entered the room, scanning the lounge until his gaze landed on Damon. "Damon, there are two people outside. They say they're your mother and sister."

Before the man even finished speaking, Damon bolted upright and strode toward the door. His speed was astonishing, leaving everyone in the lounge dumbfounded.

One teammate finally recovered and laughed. "See? As soon as he hears his sister's here, he's flying out the door. Still denying it?"

Another shook his head with a chuckle. "The famous Nightstrike of the racing world, a total sister-obsessed softie. Who would've thought?"