CHAPTER FOUR HUNDRED AND FORTY FIVE – THE TASK TO IMPRESS

The next hour was a blur of activity. Dishes were prepared, presented, and sometimes sent back. Castillo's exacting standards seemed impossible to meet. With each rejection, the tension in the kitchen grew. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a waiter rushed into the kitchen. "He likes it! General Castillo says the grilled sea bass is acceptable!" A collective sigh of relief swept through the kitchen. Jasmine felt her shoulders relax for the first time since Castillo had arrived. But their relief was short-lived. Moments later, Marco appeared in the kitchen doorway, his face grim. "Jasmine, he wants to speak with us. Both of us." Jasmine's stomach churned as they made their way to Castillo's table. The General sat back in his chair, his plate clean, his expression unreadable. "Mr. and Mrs. Cesaro," he said, his voice low. "Sit." They obeyed, perching nervously on the edge of their seats. "Your Bistro," Castillo began, pausing to take a sip of wine, "is adequate." Jasmine