Chapter 3

3、

I closed the group chat and stared at Chloe's contact info. I wanted to ask her why.

But I realized there was no point.

I started scrolling through the photos of our dinners over the last two years. Everyone was smiling and laughing around my table.

To me, cooking was therapeutic. It was an act of love.

Seeing people enjoy my food gave me a sense of fulfillment I couldn't get anywhere else.

I used to only cook for Maya.

She always said she wanted to eat my food for the rest of her life.

So, I spent years learning every recipe I could find.

When I started this administrative job, the environment seemed so healthy. Everyone was so kind.

One day, I brought honey-glazed ribs for lunch, and Chloe asked for a bite.

She raved about it for days and suggested we have team dinners at my place.

At first, I said no. I knew it was a lot of work.

But they kept acting so pathetic, saying they never got to eat real homemade food and that takeout was too expensive.

I felt bad for them, so I agreed.

The first time, I only spent about a hundred bucks on ingredients.

Everyone loved it so much they begged for a monthly tradition.

Over time, it became something I actually looked forward to.

I'd ask for everyone's favorite flavors and spend hours prepping.

I thought these dinners brought us closer together.

Now I knew that every compliment was a lie.

I looked at the folder on my phone containing recipes I had typed out to give them as a goodbye gift.

My chest ached with a dull, throbbing pain.

Early the next morning, Chloe was pounding on my door.

She didn't even wait for me to invite her in.

"Elena, I'm here to collect the settlement on behalf of the group."

The mask was off. She looked at me with pure, unadulterated greed.

She slammed a thick folder onto my coffee table.

It was filled with spreadsheets, bank statements, photos, and printouts of legal codes.

"Let's not play games, Elena. We have all the proof that you've been running an illegal catering business for three years."

"You don't have a food handler's permit, a business license, or insurance. You've been charging us for meals, which is a major violation."

The cute, bubbly girl was gone. In her place was a cold-blooded extortionist.

"The law says your house can be seized, and you'll be fined twenty times your revenue. That's nearly two hundred thousand dollars."

"But look, we're friends. We won't call the cops if you just pay us that amount directly."

"You don't want this to ruin your life, do you? Good luck finding another job with a felony on your record."

She shoved the document showing the total costs in my face.

Naturally, she had conveniently left out the parts where they begged me to cook or suggested splitting the costs.

I had been so good to them.

I'd spend four hours prepping, cleaning, and cooking every single time.

The money they sent barely covered the ingredients. Sometimes I ended up paying out of my own pocket just to make the meal better.

At a real restaurant, labor is at least half the cost. I never asked for a dime for my time.

And this was how they repaid me. By trying to rob me.

Chloe smirked, looking completely untouchable.

"Elena, don't be mad. Business is business, right?"

She waved the folder in the air, her voice dripping with menace.

"Pay up now, and I delete all the evidence. We can part ways as friends."

"If not, we'll see you in court."