The Chef's Revenge on the Greedy Owner

When my paycheck finally hit, I checked it three times. My twenty-thousand-dollar monthly salary had been slashed to a measly twelve hundred.

I stormed into Lydia Blackwood's office, the owner of the hotel, demanding an explanation.

She was busy eating a bowl of rice soaked in the broth I'd spent eight hours simmering. She didn't even look up.

"Five hundred dollars a sip for tasting the broth," she said. "You drank exactly eighteen thousand eight hundred dollars worth."

I told her that the broth was my own recipe and that testing the flavor was part of the standard work process.

Lydia slammed her chopsticks onto the table. "Your recipe? I pay your salary. I bought the stove. That broth belongs to me."

She poured another bowl of my broth and shoved it under my nose. "Take a whiff. This one's on the house."

I didn't smell it. Instead, I took off my chef's coatDthe one I'd worn for ten yearsDfolded it neatly, and placed it on her desk.

Lydia let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "What's this drama? If you're not here tomorrow morning, I'm suing you for every cent of the breach-of-contract penalty."

"And don't bother coming back to beg for your job. You signed a non-compete. I'd like to see which restaurant in this town is brave enough to hire a thief."

Brenda, the purchasing manager, ran in panicking about the base for tomorrow's wedding banquet. I just told her to let Lydia simmer it herself.

"Let her do it herself."

I stripped off my uniform and walked out without a second glance.

Brenda, the purchasing manager, was stomping her feet in a panic, chasing after me.

"Cora! We have fifty tables for this wedding! The base broth hasn't been diluted yet. If you leave, how are we supposed to serve the food?"

I didn't stop. I pushed through the swinging doors of the kitchen.

Lydia's shrill, mocking voice drifted out from her office, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"What are you wailing for, Brenda? Do you think we can't cook a meal just because one butcher is gone?"

"Cora Sterling really thinks she's someone special. Does she think this hotel will shut down without her?"

I let out a cold laugh as I stepped out of the building.

Behind me, I heard Lydia make a loud announcement.

"Hunter! You're the head chef tomorrow. Let that ungrateful brat see what real family tradition looks like!"

Hunter was Lydia's nephew.

He was a total loser with bleached hair who had been washing dishes for six months and couldn't even dice a potato correctly.

Hearing this, the dishcloth in Hunter's hand fell to the floor.

"Aunt... I mean, Boss... I don't even know how to control the heat. Fifty tables? I'll end up killing someone!"

Lydia marched out in her high heels and smacked the back of Hunter's head.

"What are you afraid of? You spineless coward."

She pointed to the vat of broth I had simmered the night before.

"Isn't her pot of broth still right there?"

"The base is thick. Just dilute it with half tap water and throw in two scoops of MSG."

"Throw in some abalone and sea cucumber, stew it up, and who's going to know the difference?"

Hunter swallowed hard, his hand trembling as he reached for the water hose.

Next day at noon, the banquet began.

I was in my tiny apartment eating instant noodles. My phone was blowing up with notifications from the local restaurant owners' group.

I heard the guy who booked Lydia's hotel was Rex Thorne, a powerful oil tycoon in town.

It was his daughter's wedding, a massive affair.

I thought Hunter's hack job would ruin the hotel's reputation instantly.

But when I saw the videos in the group, my brow furrowed.

In the video, Rex was glowing, holding a bowl of soup and shouting his praises.

"This Consomm is incredible! It's so fresh I can hardly stand it!"

"I've eaten all over the country, but I've never had a broth this potent."

I looked closely at the color of the soup in the video.

The clear broth had a strange, greasy sheen on the surface.

The broth I left behind was simmered for thirty-six hours using old hens, ham, and over a dozen medicinal herbs.

It was supposed to be deep, mellow, and restrained.

But Hunter had diluted it and used massive amounts of MSG to force out the flavor.

By accident, he had triggered an explosion of industrial umami that hit the taste buds like a sledgehammer.

This kind of flavor happened to cater perfectly to the locals' preference for heavy, stimulating tastes.

Rex slammed a thick stack of cash onto the table.

"Bring out your head chef! I want to reward him personally!"

Lydia's face was crinkled with so much joy that her makeup was practically flaking off. She dragged a shaking Hunter out from the kitchen.

"Mr. Thorne, this is the young genius trained by our family's secret recipes. My own nephew, Hunter Blackwood."

Hunter nodded, stuttering. "Yes... I made it."

Rex patted his shoulder and gave him a thumbs up.

"A true prodigy."

"Next month is my father's eightieth birthday. I'm booking your entire hotel for sixty tables."

"I'll have someone wire you a twenty-thousand-dollar deposit right now."

Lydia's eyes nearly popped out at the mention of the money. She bowed repeatedly.

"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Thorne! Thank you!"

"HoweverDI have one condition."

Rex's tone shifted. "The old man specifically asked for this Consomm for his birthday."

"This genius chef has to cook it himself. If the taste is even slightly off, I'll tear down your sign myself!"

Lydia agreed without a second thought.

"Rest assured, Mr. Thorne. Hunter's skills are always consistent."

On my screen, I watched this and shook my head.

That base broth could only last three days at most.

Hunter had no idea about the fermentation process or how the herbs reacted to each other.

In three days, that vat of soup would turn into a pot of poison.

I turned off my phone and finished the last drop of my noodle soup.

Suddenly, there was a knock at my door.

"Cora, open up. I know you're hiding in there."

I opened the door, and a gust of cheap perfume hit my face.

Lydia was standing at the entrance of my damp basement apartment, holding a plastic bag.

Inside were a few rotten apples covered in black spots.

She looked around my place with a look of mock pity.

"Oh, Cora. Is this dump even fit for a human?"

"No windows, just the smell of mold everywhere."

I said nothing.

She walked in and tossed the rotten apples onto my folding table.

"I'm a sentimental person, and I felt bad for you, so I brought some fresh fruit."

I looked at her blankly.

"Just say what you want. Don't play games."

Lydia sat down and crossed her legs.

"You saw the news. My Hunter is the star of the town now."

"The Thorne family's eighty-table banquet is next month. It's a top-tier event."

Her eyes were full of fake charity.

"Hunter is young, and sixty tables is a lot to handle alone. I thought I'd be merciful and give you a chance."

"Come back to the shop tomorrow. You'll be Hunter's prep assistant. We'll tell everyone you're his apprentice."

I looked at her caked-on makeup and almost laughed.

"You want me to be Hunter's apprentice?"

Lydia huffed.

"What, you think you're too good for it?"

"I'll still pay you. Two thousand a month!"

"You're at an age where you can't even find a husband. If I don't take you in, you'll starve on the streets."

"Learn some gratitude. Don't throw away the face I'm giving you."

I pulled up a chair and looked at her calmly.

"Do you even know how that broth is made?"

She rolled her eyes.

"A few bones and some water. What's so special about it?"

I shook my head.

"It contains thirteen different medicinal herbs, all balanced in strict proportions."

"The broth has a strict shelf life. If you don't change the base and re-simmer it every three days, it turns sour and foul."

"Once the medicinal properties spoil, they produce neurotoxins."

I stared into her eyes, speaking slowly.

Lydia froze for a second, then exploded in rage.

"Stop trying to scare me with your nonsense!"

"You're just jealous of Hunter's talent. You're mad he stole your spotlight. Poison? Do you think I'm an idiot?"

My voice remained steady.

"I'm just stating the facts."

"If you don't believe me, let him try it."

Lydia's eyes turned venomous.

"Fine, Cora. You think you're so tough."

"If you won't do it, plenty of others will!"

"I want to see how long you survive in this town without me."

She slammed the door and stormed off.

Half an hour later, my phone started vibrating like crazy.

I opened the local restaurant owners' group chat. It was in an uproar.

Lydia had posted a dozen long voice notes along with photos of my ID.

"Attention everyone! This is Cora Sterling!"

"She's dishonest. She was stealing high-end ingredients from my kitchen!"

"Worse, her medical checkup showed she has a severe contagious liver disease!"

"I fired her for the safety of my customers, and now she's sending me threatening texts!"

"Don't hire her. She's bad news!"

The group erupted.

A few owners I usually got along with sent me private messages.

"Cora, is what Lydia saying true?"

"Sorry, Chef Sterling, we're actually fully staffed right now. We don't need any help."

I took a deep breath and called a restaurant owner I'd talked to yesterday.

"Mr. Miller, it's Cora. About starting work tomorrow..."

A cold voice answered.

"I know all about your situation, Cora. My restaurant is too small for a big shot like you."

"Don't call again."

The dial tone buzzed in my ear.

In one day, every restaurant in town had blacklisted me.

I was completely isolated.

I had to start a street stall at the night market just to survive.

I pushed a second-hand cart and sold simple egg-fried rice.

My control over the heat and seasoning was far beyond any street vendor.

In less than a week, there was a long line in front of my stall.

My mother, despite her heart condition, insisted on helping me.

"Cora, let me handle the cash. You focus on the cooking."

Seeing her gray hair blowing in the night wind made my heart ache.

"Mom, sit down and rest. I can handle this."

Just as business was picking up, trouble arrived.

One night, while I was tossing the wok, the crowd was violently shoved aside.

Lydia and Hunter showed up, looking smug, followed by a few thugs in fake uniforms.

"This is the place! Trash it!"

Lydia's shrill voice cut through the noise of the market.

The thugs rushed forward and kicked over my folding tables.

A fresh batch of fried rice hit the dirt, grease splattering everywhere.

"What are you doing!"

I dropped the wok and stepped forward.

Lydia pointed a finger at my nose, her face full of triumph.

"What am I doing? You're violating our trade secrets. What do you think I'm doing?"

She turned to the crowd and started shouting.

"Look closely, everyone! This girl used to be a kitchen hand in my hotel."

"She stole our family's secret recipes and came here to scam you all!"

"An ungrateful snake like her belongs in a cage!"

My mother was in tears, grabbing Lydia's arm.

"Ms. Blackwood, don't lie! My daughter is just making plain rice. There are no secret recipes!"

Lydia shoved her with immense force.

My mother fell directly onto the greasy pavement.

"Shut up, you old bat! Stop acting!"

"Like mother, like daughter. She's a thief, and you're no better!"

I roared and lunged at Lydia.

"Don't you touch my mother!"

Before I could reach her, two thugs pinned my shoulders back.

Hunter walked over to my cart and picked up the knife on my cutting board.

It was a custom Damascus steel chef's knife. It had been with me for ten years.

"Nice knife. Looks sharp."

"Too bad it belongs to a loser."

He threw it on the ground and stomped on it with his heavy boots.

With a loud crack, the blade snapped in two.

"My knife!"

I was pinned to the cold asphalt, my cheek pressed against the grit.

Lydia put on a show for the crowd, playing the victim.

"Look at this! I gave her a job for ten years, fed her, clothed her."

"And now she steals my recipes and tries to assault me!"

The onlookers began to whisper.

"She looks so honest, who knew she was such a snake?"

"Attacking her benefactor? How heartless."

"Trash her stall. We don't need people like her here."

The hateful words stung.

My mother, lying on the ground, heard it all. Her face turned deathly pale.

She clutched her chest, gasping for air as her body began to convulse.

"Mom! Mom, what's wrong!"

I fought against the thugs and scrambled to her side.

But she couldn't speak.

"An ambulance! Someone call an ambulance!" I screamed at the crowd.

The siren wailed as they took her to the ER.

The doctor came out, looking grim.

"Acute heart failure. She needs surgery immediately. We need a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit."

I ran to the payment window.

"I'm sorry, your card is frozen," the clerk said, sliding it back.

I froze.

"That's impossible. There's a hundred thousand in there!"

I checked my banking app. The words Judicial Freeze glared back at me.

Then, a text came from Lydia's accountant.

"Cora, Ms. Blackwood said since you violated the non-compete, that hundred thousand is being held as penalty. If you want the money, come to the hotel and beg."

My mother was moved to the ICU.

The doctor gave me an ultimatum: pay by the end of the day or they'd have to stop treatment.

I sat on the cold hospital bench, drowning in despair.

Suddenly, several burly men grabbed me.

"What are you doing! Let me go!"

"Mr. Thorne wants to see you."

I was shoved into a van and driven to Lydia's hotel.

It was the day of Grandpa Thorne's eightieth birthday.

The parking lot was full of luxury cars. Every VIP in town was there.

I was dragged into the golden ballroom.

The guests were seated, but the room was deathly silent.

A faint, unidentifiable sour stench drifted from the kitchen.

I was forced to my knees in front of the head table.

Seeing me, Lydia suddenly dropped to her knees as well, crying hysterically.

"Cora, I know you hate me!"

"I know you're jealous that Hunter took your spot!"

"But take it out on me! How could you poison the soup for today's banquet?"

The room erupted in gasps.

Rex Thorne sat at the head table, his face dark.

Hunter was hiding behind Lydia, trembling, holding a bowl of green, foul-smelling liquid.

Lydia grabbed the bowl and dumped it over my head.

The cold, stinking sludge ran down my hair and into my eyes.

"Even if you hate me, you can't play with the lives of the Thorne family!"

"You snuck into the kitchen last night and poisoned the broth!"

She was pinning the blame for the spoiled broth entirely on me.

Rex slammed his hand on the table.

"Beat her!"

Two bodyguards kicked me in the stomach. I curled into a ball on the floor.

One of them pulled out a baton and struck me across the face. Blood blurred my vision.

Lydia leaned in close to my ear, whispering with a smirk.

"Cora, if you confess to the poisoning right now and sign this paperDand give us the full recipeDI'll pay for your mother's surgery."

"Otherwise, she dies today."

She slapped a confession form in front of me.

"Sign it. Do it for your mother."

The guests pointed and cursed at me.

"How shameless, poisoning a birthday feast."

"Call the police. This woman is a monster."

"She deserves to be beaten to death."

My face was pressed into the stinking carpet. It was hard to breathe.

I looked at the head table. There was a pot of fake broth there, heavily scented to hide the rot.

Grandpa Thorne was already halfway through his bowl.

I stopped struggling. I let out a jagged, silent laugh.

"Lydia."

I spat out a mouthful of blood. My voice was raspy but clear.

"You probably forgot what I told you."

"That broth contains an herb called Star-Lily Root."

"If it's not handled with my specific technique, or if it's heated after fermenting..."

"It becomes a potent neurotoxin."

Lydia's face changed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Before she could finish, the bowl in Grandpa Thorne's hand shattered on the floor.

His eyes rolled back. A gurgling sound came from his throat.

A spray of black blood erupted from his mouth, covering the table.

"Dad!"