The Secret Sauce Recipe War

The keys clattered as they slipped into the sewer grate with a hollow metallic ring. I leaned my aching back against the grimy brick wall and tried to limp toward the exit. Just as I reached the sidewalk, a dark figure blocked my path.

It was Chase, my cousin, holding a dripping black plastic bag that smelled like a dumpster in mid-July. He blocked me with a sneer. "Don't play sick with me, Sloane. Hand over the secret sauce recipe right now!"

I didn't even look at him as I tried to push past. Chase grabbed my arm tight, his fingers digging into my skin. "The delivery apps are blowing up with orders! How am I supposed to run the grill without your sauce?"

I wrenched my arm away and pointed at the bag in his hand. "You're using that stinking, expired meat for my customers? You're going to destroy a reputation I built over ten years!"

Chase slammed the bag of meat onto the pavement. "Your stupid reputation isn't worth a dime. You worked your whole life and can't even afford a decent condo!"

He stood there with his hands on his hips, grinding his heel into the pile of spoiled meat. Mrs. Miller, who ran the fry-shack next door, stuck her head out from her stall. "Sloane, this 'limited edition' marketing stunt of yours is pretty low, hiding away while your apprentice takes all the heat."

She looked me up and down with a disgusted smirk. Chase immediately changed his tone, looking like a kicked puppy as he started crying to her. "Mrs. Miller, can you believe this? She takes ninety percent of the profits and leaves me starving. Is she even human?"

He fake-wiped a tear from his eye, his voice cracking. "I work day and night for her, and she just walks away, leaving me to deal with this entire mess!"

People waiting for their late-night snacks started crowding around, whispering and pointing at me. "She looks so honest, but her heart is jet black. Bleeding her own family dry like that."

"Exactly. She's probably loaded while she makes the kid use bad meat. I'm never eating here again!"

"I can't believe I used to stand in line for her food. What a joke." Chase's smirk grew wider as the insults flew my way.

He pulled out his phone and started a livestream, shoving the camera right in my face. The title on the screen read: Greedy Ex-Boss Oppressing Young Talent. "Look, everyone! This is the woman who's been exploiting me and won't even leave me enough for a hot meal!"

He sobbed for the camera, playing the victim perfectly. "Tell me, guys, is it fair for a young guy just starting out to be scammed like this?"

I pushed the camera away and stared into his eyes. "I'm done with this stall. And you won't get a single word of that recipe from me."

Chase leaned in close, whispering so only I could hear. "Fine. If you won't give it up, I'll just buy cheap chemical additives to mimic the flavor."

His face twitched with malice. "If someone gets sick, your name is still on the sign, Sloane. Let's see how you handle that lawsuit!"

"You think you can keep this up forever?" I asked coldly. "Forever? I just need to make bank right now. Your old-fashioned rules belong in the trash!"

He laughed and patted my shoulder. "Aren't you afraid of the health inspectors?" "Inspectors? The business license is still in your name, Sloane. If something goes wrong, they'll come for you, not me!"

His yellow teeth showed as he grinned. "Good. Remember what you said today." I turned my back on him and limped away.

Behind me, Chase's voice boomed. "Hey, old lady! Tomorrow I'm putting my name on the sign! Get ready for a process server to knock on your door!"

When I got home, I barely managed to lie down before a loud bullhorn started blaring outside. "Ten-year legacy! Sloane's secret recipe! Viral TikTok bowls available now!"

The horn played on a loop, mixed with the sounds of livestream donation alerts. The noise hammered against my eardrums until my head throbbed. I gritted my teeth and rolled out of bed to open the bottom drawer of my nightstand.

Inside were two documents. They were the business license transfer and the stall lease termination agreement I had signed two weeks ago. Everything was official, stamped with the city's seal.

Two weeks ago, I had already legally transferred the ownership. Suddenly, a loud banging erupted at my front door. "Sloane, get out here right now!"

It was Mr. Walker, one of my oldest customers. When I opened the door, he was clutching his stomach, his face pale and covered in a cold sweat. "Sloane, look at the slop you're selling now!"

His hand shook as he pointed a finger at me, holding a takeout box in the other. "There was a dead fly in this, and it smells like a sewer!"

I quickly turned to pour a glass of warm water and handed him some stomach medicine. "Mr. Walker, please take this. I am so incredibly sorry."

I bowed deeply and pulled a hundred-dollar bill from my pocket, shoving it into his hand. "This is for your trouble. Please, take it."

Mr. Walker slammed the money back at me. The bills scattered across the floor like dead leaves. He threw the takeout box at my feet.

"I've eaten your food for five years! How could you throw away your conscience for a few extra bucks?" Mr. Walker gasped for air, his anger making him shake.

"I'm telling you, this isn't over. I'm calling the Health Department!" I tried to explain that the stall had changed hands, but he wouldn't listen. He just turned and limped down the stairs, cursing under his breath.

I bent my stiff back and slowly picked up the mess on the floor. A pungent chemical scent hit my nose, making me feel nauseous. My phone lit up with a notification for Chase's livestream.

On the screen, Chase was holding a massive wok, dancing for the camera. "Thanks for the Galaxy, bro! We've got plenty of secret spicy bowls ready for everyone!"

He was wearing my old chef's coat, his hair greasy and matted. The comment section was moving so fast I could barely read it. "This tastes so much better than before! Totally worth the three-hour wait!"

"The new boss is the goat! He gives huge portions, unlike that stingy old lady!" I looked at the comments, knowing they were mostly paid bots.

Chase stopped dancing and connected with another account on the stream. "Everyone, meet our new lead supplier!" He held a digital contract up to the lens.

It was a long-term supply agreement for fifty thousand dollars. The man on the screen was a notorious dealer of black-market meat in the city. "With this partnership, our prices are going to drop even lower!"

Chase was shouting at the top of his lungs, completely unaware he was jumping into a fire. I quickly screenshotted the contract shown in the stream. I saved the video and the images into an encrypted folder titled "Evidence."

The next morning, I put on a mask and dragged my numb right leg out to the pharmacy. To get there, I had to pass by my old stall. Even from half a block away, the chemical stench was overwhelming.

There was a massive line in front of the stall. Most of them were influencers holding selfie sticks, shouting at their phones. Chase was still wearing my old coat, slamming his iron wok and splashing oil everywhere.

Mr. Lewis, the guy who sold hot dogs next door, couldn't take it anymore and pulled me aside. "Sloane, how much longer is your shop going to be closed?"

He lowered his voice, shaking his head at the black sludge leaking from the stall. "Take your spot back before this parasite ruins the whole street's reputation. He's scaring all the regulars away!"

Chase had sharp ears. He dropped his wok with a loud clang and marched over. He pulled a few hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and slapped them onto Mr. Lewis's grill.

The hot dogs hissed on the rollers, mixing with the grime to create a foul odor. "Old man, worry about your own cheap sausages. I run this place now!"

Chase turned to me, pointing his finger inches from my nose. "Sloane, you worked ten years and still live in a tiny rental. I made your monthly rent in three days!"

The crowd heard the commotion and swarmed around us. Phone cameras were shoved into my face, the sound of shutters firing like a hail of bullets. Chase looked smug as he jumped onto a plastic crate to address the crowd.

"Everyone, get a good look at her!" he shouted. "This is the jealous ex-boss who's trying to sabotage my business because she's a hater!"

He looked down at me from his crate, kicking the side of it for emphasis. "I'm running a viral business model here! I can sell anything for top dollar while you're stuck in the past!"

The influencers smelled drama and started hurling insults. "She's just mad she can't keep up. How pathetic."

"Boomers like her are just obstacles. Get out of the way!" I didn't say a word. I just stared at his expensive sneakers, which were currently soaking in filthy gutter water.

I pushed through the crowd and tried to walk away. Chase chased after me and grabbed a bucket of sour, fermented waste water from under his prep table. He swung it with all his might.

The murky, stinking liquid splashed all over the path in front of me, soaking my lower legs. The smell was enough to make anyone gag. I stopped, but I didn't turn around.

I pulled a pack of tissues from my pocket and wiped the filth off my skin. I crumpled the tissues into a ball and tossed them perfectly into a nearby trash can. I patted the droplets off my pants and kept walking.

Back at my apartment, I pulled out the drawer again. I took out the liability waiver given to me by the Market Management. I laid it out on the table, the paper crisp and cold.

I took the waiver and the transfer papers and limped over to the City Licensing Bureau. The lobby was quiet as I handed the documents through the window. "I need to confirm that the transfer and the lease termination from two weeks ago are fully processed."

The clerk checked the system and compared the files. A heavy stamp landed on my receipt. "It's all in the system. You have zero legal connection to that stall or its operations anymore."

I folded the paper and tucked it into my waterproof bag. As I walked out, my phone started vibrating like crazy. It was Chase, sending a dozen voice notes in a row.

I played the last one. Chase's scream echoed from the speaker. "Sloane, send me three thousand dollars right now!"

"The market manager is here demanding the quarterly sanitation fee! Pay it now so I don't lose money!" I didn't even have the energy to laugh at his audacity.

I blocked his number and deleted the contact. At the pharmacy, I bought my pain meds and some water. When I walked back toward the night market, Chase jumped out from an alley.

He wasn't alone. Four massive guys with thick gold chains were standing behind him. They were the market's suppliers. The leader, a bald man with a scar, was holding a stack of unpaid bills.

He slapped the bills against his hand. Chase grabbed my arm, his fingers bruising my flesh. "Gentlemen, this is the real owner! She's the one with all the money!"

Chase shouted, trying to deflect the debt collectors toward me. The men surrounded me, blocking the sidewalk. The bald man shook the bills in my face.

"The shop's seal is on these invoices. Nobody leaves until we get paid!" I grabbed Chase's fingers and peeled them off my arm one by one.

"Listen carefully. I have no legal ownership of that stall. You're looking for the wrong person." The suppliers looked at each other, and the bald man grabbed Chase by his collar.

"Chase, you little prick, are you trying to play me?" the bald man roared. Chase panicked and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

It was a fake "Management Authorization" he had forged himself. He tried to shove an ink pad into my hand. "This is the authorization you signed! You're going to thumbprint this right now and take responsibility!"

Chase's eyes were bloodshot and wild. He tried to force my hand onto the ink, hissing a threat. "If you don't sign this, these guys are going to skin you alive!"

I shoved him back and stepped away. Before I could say a word, a scream erupted from the stall nearby. "Help! Someone call an ambulance!"

A young boy who had just finished a meal was collapsed on the pavement. He was clutching his stomach, foaming at the mouth and convulsing. The crowd went into a frenzy as the boy's father lunged at the stall.

Seeing his world crumble, Chase's eyes darted around. He screamed at the angry parents and the suppliers. "It's her! She's the boss! She made me use the rotten meat to save money!"

"She bought the meat! Her name is on the stall! If the kid dies, it's all on this evil old lady!" In an instant, a hundred angry eyes locked onto me.