**Chapter 3: The Main Course**

As Sophia perused the menu, Marcel presented her with a variety of options, each dish more exotic and enticing than the last. She was torn between the desire to try something new and the comfort of sticking with what she knew. Marcel watched her with an intensity that made her feel slightly uneasy, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why. As they chatted, Marcel expertly guided the conversation, steering it towards Sophia's tastes and preferences. He was charming and charismatic, and Sophia found herself relaxing in his presence. But despite his affable demeanor, Marcel's eyes betrayed a sinister intent, a glint of excitement that made Sophia's skin crawl. As they talked, Marcel's team busied themselves in the kitchen, preparing for the main event. François, the sous chef, looked on with growing unease, his eyes darting nervously between Marcel and Sophia. He had a bad feeling about this, and he couldn't shake the sense that something was off. Meanwhile, Sophia remained oblivious to the danger that lurked beneath Marcel's charming exterior. She continued to chat with him, laughing and smiling as he regaled her with stories of his culinary exploits. But as the minutes ticked by, she began to feel a growing sense of unease. It started as a prickle of discomfort, a nagging feeling that something was not quite right. Sophia tried to brush it off, telling herself she was just being paranoid. But as the sensation grew, she couldn't ignore it any longer. As Marcel finished recommending his signature dish, Sophia pushed her chair back, preparing to make a hasty exit. But it was too late. Marcel's smile grew wider, and he reached out, his hand closing around her wrist like a vice. "Please, don't go just yet," he said, his voice low and persuasive. "I have a special dish that I think you'll find particularly... appealing." Sophia tried to pull away, but Marcel's grip was too strong. He led her through the crowded restaurant, navigating through the tables with ease. The other diners looked up, watching as Marcel escorted Sophia to a private dining area in the back. The room was small and intimate, with a single table set for two. Marcel pushed Sophia gently into her seat, his eyes locked onto hers. For a moment, they just stared at each other, Sophia's heart pounding in her chest. And then, without warning, Marcel's expression changed. His eyes grew cold and hard, and his smile twisted into a grotesque grimace. Sophia's instincts screamed at her to run, but it was too late. Marcel's team moved swiftly, subduing her with ease. As Sophia struggled to free herself, Marcel emerged from the shadows, a glint of steel in his hand. Sophia's eyes widened in horror as Marcel's blade flashed in the dim light, and she felt a searing pain in her throat. The last thing Sophia saw was Marcel's twisted face, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he gazed at her lifeless body. And then, everything went black. The private dining area fell silent, the only sound the soft gurgle of Sophia's lifeblood as it flowed onto her chest. Marcel's team moved with precision, staging the scene to resemble a grotesque dinner theater. The guests, seated just outside the private dining area, waited with bated breath, their faces aglow with anticipation. As the minutes ticked by, Sophia's body began to cool, her blood flowing down her chest and staining her cleavage. Marcel's eyes roamed over her lifeless form, his expression one of twisted satisfaction. It was going to be a very special meal.