Starved: The Chef's Ultimate Revenge

Sweat stung my eyes as I leaned over the stove, prepping the massive holiday dinner.

Then, Carol’s voice drifted through the cracked patio door. "Sloane's food is good, sure, but she's a cheap workhorse." My motherinlaw’s laugh was a dry rasp. "Toss her a bone and she’ll slave away for years." My hand stopped.

The chef's knife hovered an inch above the cutting board. "Now, Cody's new girl?

Brielle is actual royalty," Carol bragged to the neighbor. "I handed her a fiftythousanddollar check today just as a welcome gift!" "The estate goes to the youngest, obviously.

Sloane is an idiot. She's too easy to control." The grip on my knife tightened until my knuckles turned stark white. Three years. I had given this family three years.

I was an executive chef. I walked away from a Michelinstarred kitchen to marry Hayes. Instead, I spent my days rolling his paralyzed father over to prevent bedsores.

I drained my own paychecks to fund every single meal for this bloodsucking family. My personal bank account sat at zero.

Hayes always rubbed my shoulders and told me money was tight. He begged me to just endure it. Things were never tight. They were just hoarding everything to spend on someone else.

A freezing calm washed over my skin, shutting down every racing nerve. I reached behind my waist and unknotted the greasestained apron. It hit the linoleum with a soft slap.

I kept the heavy steel meat cleaver in my right hand. I walked out of the kitchen. Hayes looked up from his phone, a hard crease forming between his brows. "Where's the food?

What's taking so long?" Chapter 1 "Starve. I’m done playing maid." Carol, my motherinlaw, had cursed my defiance, spitting that a glorified cook couldn't hold this family hostage.

She claimed she could replace me with another woman in a heartbeat. What the old bat didn't know was my secret. [ Culinary God System bound.

Premium ingredient supply active. ] Every scrap of food I touched transformed into worldclass cuisine.

Let’s see how Hayes’s massive holiday dinner—the one meant to kiss all his relatives' asses—survives without my hands. … The words dropped like lead.

Hayes, who had been impatiently waiting for his food, froze. "Sloane, what the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, stepping toward the kitchen. "It's the holidays.

The whole family is arriving any minute, and you're throwing a tantrum now?" "Put the apron back on. Mom is out on the patio with the neighbor.

If she hears you acting like a psycho, she’ll never let you hear the end of it." Acting like a psycho? A hollow laugh scraped my throat. I flipped my wrist.

The heavy steel meat cleaver flashed through the air and slammed into the wooden cutting board, missing Hayes’s fingertips by a fraction of an inch. THWACK.

Hayes snatched his hand back, all the color draining from his face. "Are you insane?!

You almost cut my fingers off!" I stripped off my greasesplattered cooking sleeves and whipped them directly into his chest. "I've been on my feet since five in the morning.

I haven't even had a sip of water," I stated, my voice dead and flat. "Your mother is outside bragging. You've been glued to the couch playing video games." "I am your wife, Hayes.

Not a mule you bought at an auction." Hayes wiped the oily residue off his shirt, his face twisting ugly. "Every wife cooks!

Stop being so dramatic!" he shot back. "I was just playing a game!

You always do this stuff, so why is today any different?" "Because I used to be pathetic." I shoved past him, heading straight for the hallway. "I'm not pathetic anymore.

Whoever wants to eat can cook it themselves." The patio door hit its track with a harsh rattle. Carol stomped in, her face flushed red. "What is all this screaming?

I can hear you two fighting from a mile away!" Her sharp eyes darted around the kitchen. The burners were off. The counters were bare. Her face dropped. "Sloane, where is the food?

We agreed on a full holiday spread. Guests are arriving." "Why isn't anything ready?" She marched up to me, her chest puffing out. "Are you begging for a slap?

You're dropping the ball right now to embarrass this family in front of the relatives?" I stared down at her pinched, bitter face.

The words she just spoke on the patio echoed in my ears. A cheap workhorse. Toss her a bone and she’ll slave away for years. I was an executive chef.

If I catered a private event outside these walls, the bill started at five figures. In this house, I was just free labor.

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest. "Mom, didn't you just tell the neighbor that Cody's new girl is actual royalty?" I kept my tone dead level. "Since Brielle is so precious, why don't you have her cook the dinner?" "Let the relatives taste if the girl you handed a fiftythousanddollar check to can cook a fiftythousanddollar meal." Carol’s jaw snapped shut.

Her eyes darted away, panic flashing through her pupils. "YYou… what kind of garbage are you talking about?!" she stuttered. "Eavesdropping on your elders?

You have zero class!" "Brielle is a guest!

Guests don't cook!" "Get your ass back to that kitchen right now, or I swear I'll make sure you have no place in this house!" The old Sloane would have flinched.

She would have scrambled back to the hot oil, desperate to keep the peace, desperate for Hayes’s love, desperate to please this venomous woman. Now?

My stomach just churned with pure disgust. "Fine. Then I'm out." Chapter 2 I pivoted on my heel, marched into the bedroom, and dragged my suitcase from the closet.

Hayes scrambled after me, blocking the doorframe with his body. "Sloane, come on, stop overreacting." He reached out, his voice dropping into that soft, pleading tone he always used to keep me in line. "You know how Mom gets.

Why are you letting her get to you?" "The uncles are pulling into the driveway right now.

Everyone is dying for your food." "You've spoiled them," he pressed, stepping closer. "They refuse to eat takeout. Just do it this one time.

Please?" I married him because, before I unlocked my culinary system, he was the only one who told me not to give up on my cooking.

I didn't realize until it was too late that he was just a chronic, spineless peoplepleaser. He handed out cash to anyone who asked.

He volunteered my labor the second a relative mentioned they were hungry. He used my blood, sweat, and tears to buy his good guy reputation. Not today. Let them all starve.

I shoved a stack of sweaters into the luggage and ripped the zipper shut. "Begging?

You're out of time." I gripped the plastic handle. "If I spent the last three years feeding a stray dog, it would at least wag its tail at me." "I fed your family, and all I got was a knife in the back." I shoved him hard out of my way and dragged the wheels over the threshold.

Carol was practically vibrating in the middle of the living room. "Let her go!

Let's see how far she gets!" she screeched, pointing a crooked finger at the front door. "Without our family's name, she's nothing but usedup trash!

Hayes, do not touch her!" "If she walks out that door today, she can get on her hands and knees and beg, and I still won't let her back inside!" I didn't even break my stride.

As I passed the dining table, I grabbed the ceramic bowl of specialty, nutrientdense porridge I’d spent six hours slowcooking for his paralyzed father.

I tipped it straight into the garbage can.

The thick liquid slapped heavily against the plastic liner. "No more porridge." I locked eyes with Carol. "Rot." I stepped out into the crisp evening air, the heavy oak door slamming shut behind me.

Even through the thick wood, Carol’s voice pierced the air. "Ungrateful bitch!

Look at the psycho you married, Hayes!" And of course, Hayes was still playing the peacemaker. "Mom, just drop it. You know how stubborn Sloane gets.

She'll cool off and come crawling back by tomorrow." "Crawling back?

She better kiss my shoes before I let her across this threshold!" I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address to the most expensive fivestar hotel in the city.

My phone vibrated endlessly against my thigh. Text after text from Hayes flooded the screen. [ Sloane, the uncles are here. ] [ Everyone is sitting at the table. Where is the food?

Stop acting crazy and come back right now. ] [ Mom’s blood pressure is spiking. Are you trying to give her a heart attack? ] [ Sloane!

Do not push me! ] I swiped the ringer switch to silent and tossed the phone onto the plush kingsized mattress. Three years without a single vacation.

Three years of pureeing meals for an invalid and catering to the absurd demands of his absolute joke of a family. It was time for a reset.

I sat on the edge of the bed and dialed a former VIP client who had been begging me to partner on a highend restaurant franchise. I gave him a oneword answer: Yes.

Ten minutes later, a fiftythousanddollar wire transfer hit my empty checking account. I ordered the hotel's platinum inroom spa package.

Twenty minutes later, as a masseuse worked the deep tension out of my shoulders with hot stones, I propped my phone up on the massage table. I opened the security app.

I originally installed the cameras in the house to monitor his paralyzed father’s breathing. Tonight, they were broadcasting frontrow tickets to a beautiful trainwreck.

Chapter 3 The iPad screen displayed pure chaos.

The living room was packed shouldertoshoulder with aunts and uncles, all craning their necks toward the empty kitchen. "Carol, it's past one.

Where is the food?" Aunt Martha complained from the sofa.

She was the ultimate freeloader—always showing up emptyhanded and leaving with Tupperware full of leftovers. "My stomach is eating itself." "Seriously," Aunt Linda chimed in, crossing her arms. "We skipped breakfast for this." Carol’s face flushed a deep, embarrassed red.

She cleared her throat, forcing a lie. "Well… Sloane had a medical emergency.

She went to the urgent care." "We'll… we'll just order delivery today." "Delivery?" Uncle Bob scoffed, leaning forward. "For a holiday dinner?" "Carol, that's a joke.

Sloane was perfectly fine yesterday. Why is she suddenly sick now?" "Exactly," Martha muttered. "She's just being lazy." The veins in Carol’s neck bulged under the pressure.

She shot a vicious glare at Hayes. "Don't just stand there! Order the food! Call that… that ultraluxury steakhouse downtown!" Hayes flinched, pulling his phone from his pocket.

But with a dozen relatives watching his every move, his pathetic need to play the good guy took over. He gritted his teeth and tapped in an eighthundreddollar order.

An hour later, the delivery driver arrived. The dining table was quickly covered in massive aluminum trays.

Prime rib, butterpoached lobster, truffle risotto… the spread looked and smelled incredible. "Grab a plate, everyone," Carol announced, clapping her hands together to regain her authority. "Sloane didn't cook this, but it's from a fivestar kitchen.

It'll be amazing." Martha didn't wait. She scooped a massive slice of prime rib onto her plate and shoved a bite into her mouth. She chewed twice. Her face contorted.

It looked like she had just chewed on a live cockroach.

She gagged, spitting the meat directly into her napkin. "What the hell is this?" she rasped, coughing. "It tastes like actual garbage!" "Garbage?

Don't be dramatic, it's a luxury restaurant." Carol grabbed a fork and stabbed a piece of the butterpoached lobster. The second it hit her tongue, her face drained of color.

She spat it out instantly. "Ugh! Is this seafood rotten? It tastes like a dirty aquarium! It's so bitter!" The other relatives dug in. One by one, forks dropped.

Napkins were raised to mouths. A chorus of gagging echoed through the dining room. "This is completely inedible!

It's dog food!" "Carol, did you cheap out and order from some healthcode violation dump?" "God, it's so gross! I want Sloane's pot roast.

I want her glazed carrots…" The entire room erupted into furious complaints. Hayes finally took a bite of the risotto. A deep furrow formed between his eyebrows. The truth?

There was absolutely nothing wrong with the food. It was standard, highquality restaurant fare. The problem was their taste buds.

For three years, I had secretly laced every meal with the highgrade, systemprovided ingredients.

I had slowly rewired their palates, pushing their taste thresholds to the absolute peak of human perception.

Unless the food came directly from my hands, every minor flaw in a dish was magnified. A slight greasiness felt like drinking pure motor oil.

A hint of salt felt like swallowing seawater. I lay on my stomach on the massage table, watching my iPad screen. My relatives looked gray, dryheaving over their expensive plates.

I let out a slow, satisfied exhale as the hot stones pressed into my back. This was barely a warmup. The real show hadn't even started. Chapter 4 The iPad screen flickered.

A flurry of movement at the front entrance caught my eye. The heavy door swung open.

Cody strode into the foyer, practically dragging a woman drenched in heavy makeup and designer labels behind him. "Mom! Brielle is here!" Carol’s sour expression vanished.

A wide, tight grin stretched across her wrinkled face. "Oh, Brielle! Look at you, you’re absolutely stunning!

Come in, come in!" Carol clapped her hands together. "Good thing that cheap workhorse finally dragged herself out of here.

Our real VIP has arrived!" Brielle stepped into the living room, a pristine Birkin bag resting in the crook of her arm. She stopped dead in her tracks.

Her eyes swept over the dining table cluttered with halfeaten takeout containers. She took a swift step back, pressing a manicured hand over her nose. "Carol, what is that smell?

It's vile." Carol scrambled forward. She shoved the aluminum trays aside, ignoring the greasy broth spilling across the mahogany table. "Oh, just some trash delivery!

Totally unhygienic. We were just about to throw it out." Carol smoothed down her shirt. "Are you starving, sweetheart?" "Tell me what you want.

I'll cook it right now!" I lay on the massage table, a laugh bubbling up in my throat. Carol? Cook?

To maintain her fake upperclass matriarch persona, the woman hadn't touched a spatula in three years. She wouldn't even pick up a spilled salt shaker if I was in the room.

Brielle clicked her Louboutins across the floor. She pulled a tissue from her purse and laid it flat on the sofa cushion before sitting down. "I have a very strict diet.

I only eat organic," Brielle announced, crossing her legs. "Seafood has to be flown in daily, and I only touch A5 Wagyu.

Looking at this processed garbage makes me nauseous." "Exactly! Total garbage!" Cody nodded, hovering beside her like a lapdog.

He looked at his mother. "Mom, Brielle’s dad is a massive real estate tycoon. She practically lives at Michelinstar restaurants." "You need to call Sloane back right now.

No one else can handle her diet." At the mention of my name, Carol’s face darkened. "Do not mention that jinx!

Let her rot!" Aunt Martha leaned in from the loveseat, clutching her empty stomach. "Carol, having a new daughterinlaw over is great and all, but we are starving.

Since Sloane isn't here… why don't you show off your skills?" The relatives stared at her, their eyes wild with hunger. They didn't even care about the taste anymore.

They just needed calories. Carol was trapped. She had spent months bragging to Brielle’s family about her refined, aristocratic lifestyle.

If she couldn't even put a basic meal on the table, her entire facade would crumble. "Fine!

I'll do it!" Carol snapped, marching toward the kitchen. "How hard can it be?" Hayes trailed closely behind her, ready to play souschef. I stared at the screen.

I started counting down in my head. Three. Two. One. "Ah—fuck!" A shriek tore through the kitchen. Hayes’s panicked voice echoed a second later. "Mom! Blood!

You sliced your finger open!" Carol had tried to julienne a potato. Instead, she drove the chef's knife straight into her own hand.

Relatives scrambled off the couches, shouting over each other for bandages and rubbing alcohol. Brielle didn't move an inch.

She sat on her tissue, rolling her eyes hard. "What kind of place is this?" Brielle yelled over the screaming. "You guys don't even have a housekeeper?" "The old lady has to cook her own food?

If my parents saw this, they'd cancel the wedding immediately." Chapter 5 Cody was sweating buckets, peeling an orange for Brielle with the focus of a bomb squad technician. "There’s a maid, I swear!

She just… took the day off. Hang on, babe, I'll handle it." He ducked onto the balcony and my phone lit up. Cody. I swirled the dark red liquid in my glass and hit speaker. "Sloane!

Where the hell are you? Get your ass back here right now!" Cody’s voice was a jagged saw. "Do you have any idea who’s here?

Brielle is a goddess." "If she goes hungry because of you, you’re dead." I took a slow, deliberate sip of the Cabernet. "A goddess, huh?

Then she deserves better than me." "I'm just a cheap workhorse, remember? My cooking would probably stain her royal palate." "Stop the bullshit! Mom sliced her hand open!

Are you trying to kill her?" "She cut herself? Good.

Maybe while she's at the hospital, she can get a brain scan to see why she thought I’d ever come back." "You—!" "Listen to me, Sloane," Cody hissed. "If you come back right now and fix this dinner, we’ll let it slide.

But if you don't, there won't be a place for you in this family once Brielle moves in." "I’m counting on it." I hung up and blocked his number in one smooth motion.

On the screen, Cody slammed his phone onto the sofa. "Bitch thinks she's special!" In the kitchen, Carol emerged with a bulky bandage wrapped around her finger, looking like a defeated dog. "I can't do it.

That knife is too sharp. It's possessed." Of course it was. Those were my custom German blades. Without a professional's grip, they were dangerous.

The relatives were practically vibrating with hunger. Their patience had evaporated an hour ago. "Carol, it's two o'clock," Uncle Bob growled. "Are you trying to starve us to death?

If I knew I was coming here to fast, I would've stayed home." Brielle stood up, grabbing her Birkin. "Cody, if this is how your family treats me, I’m done." "This place is a dump.

I can’t even get a warm meal? This is pathetic." Carol panicked. She lunged forward, grabbing Brielle’s designer sleeve. "Wait! Don’t go!

I have… I have a welcome gift for you!" She shot a sharp look at Hayes. He looked pained, but he reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick, heavy red envelope.

That was my bonus—the money they’d been siphoning off my paychecks for years.

They were using my stolen wages to buy their new favorite. "Fifty thousand dollars!" Carol announced, her voice booming with fake pride. "A little something for you to buy some snacks, sweetheart." Fifty grand?

Please. I knew the drill. There were probably ten hundreddollar bills on top, and the rest was shredded newspaper. It was their signature move: all bark, no bite.

Brielle took the envelope.

She squeezed the thickness, and her features finally softened. "Oh, Carol… you shouldn't have." She tucked the cash into her bag, her grip tightening like a vise. "So… are we eating?" Carol asked, her voice small.

Brielle sat back down, though she looked like she was doing them a massive favor. "Since you’re being so sincere, I guess I’ll stay." "But that…" She pointed at the cold, greasy takeout on the table. "I’m not touching that pig food." Chapter 6 A muffled, guttural groan echoed from the back bedroom. "HHungry…" It was Hayes’s father.

The old man was paralyzed from the neck down. Every single day, I pureed his meals. I spent hours massaging his atrophied muscles to keep his digestion moving.

I had been gone for one afternoon, and they had already forgotten he existed. Hayes blinked, snapping out of his daze. "Mom, Dad is hungry.

What do we do?" Carol waved a hand in the air, swatting the problem away like a fly. "Missing one meal won't kill him.

Can't you see we have a VIP guest?" "Just mix some powdered milk and force it down his throat!" A block of ice settled in my chest.

The old man’s body was broken, but his mind was sharp. He was the only one in that house who ever treated me with a shred of decency. But to his own wife and son?

He was just dead weight. I tapped the iPad screen, severing the live feed. Black glass stared back at me. Let them rot. Hunger was just the baseline.

The real torture was the withdrawal—the bonedeep, clawing desperation for the flawless, systemenhanced flavors they were all addicted to. It was worse than a drug detox.

I slept like the dead. When I finally dragged myself out of the kingsized hotel bed the next afternoon, my phone screen was a solid wall of notifications.

The family group chat was exploding. [ Aunt Martha: @Sloane Enough is enough. It's been a whole day. Get back here.

Your fatherinlaw soiled the bed and the whole house smells like a sewer. ] [ Aunt Linda: Seriously, stop being a brat. Carol is sick with stress. She's groaning in bed.

Aren't you afraid of karma? ] [ Hayes: Sloane, I'm sorry, okay? Please come back. Dad keeps crying for you. And Brielle is a nightmare. She's demanding a Beef Wellington.

How the hell am I supposed to cook that? ] I stared at the screen, a dry smirk pulling at my lips. Soiled the bed? When I was there, I spongebathed the old man three times a day.

That room smelled like sterile lavender. One day without me, and their pathetic reality came crashing down. My thumbs flew across the keyboard. [ Sloane: You want me back? Sure.

Settle the tab first. ] I attached a PDF file.

It was a master spreadsheet of every grocery bill, pharmacy receipt, and specialty ingredient I had paid for out of my own pocket over the last three years, calculated down to the last cent. [ Sloane: Total Due: $72,450.00. ] The group chat flatlined.

Three minutes later, an audio message from Carol popped up. Her voice was weak, raspy, and shaking. [ Carol (Audio): Sloane! This is extortion!

You're charging your own family for meals? You soulless bitch! ] I typed back instantly. [ Sloane: Even blood relatives settle their debts. I'm just a cheap workhorse, right?

Workhorses need to get paid. ] [ Sloane: Wire the money, or I file a civil suit.

And maybe I'll forward the security footage of you neglecting a paralyzed elder to Adult Protective Services. ] It was a threat, but the footage sitting on my hard drive was real enough.

Radio silence in the chat. A direct message from Hayes slid onto the screen. [ Hayes: Sloane, you know we don't have that kind of cash. Stop this. Come home.

I'll get on my knees, okay? ] [ Sloane: No cash? ] I hit send. [ Sloane: You guys looked pretty loaded handing out that fiftythousanddollar check to the VIP yesterday.

Use that to pay off your debt. ] The typing bubble next to Hayes’s name vanished. Chapter 7 I knew he was bluffing.

The second he asked for the check back, Brielle would realize it was stuffed with shredded newspaper. I didn't bother replying.

I hit block on the entire group chat, swiped out of the app, and booted up the security cameras. I wanted a frontrow seat to the fallout. The iPad screen flickered to life.

The living room looked like a crime scene. Empty takeout containers, greasy napkins, and dirty laundry covered every square inch of the floor.

The stench must have been suffocating, because Brielle was pacing the room with a medical mask strapped over her face. "Cody!

This is your aristocratic family?" Brielle jabbed a manicured finger at the trashcovered floor. "I can't even walk in here!

And that foul smell?" "That's coming from the old man's room, isn't it?

It's absolutely disgusting!" Cody was on his hands and knees, scrubbing hard at a grease stain on the rug. "Babe, please, don't be mad. It's just a bad week.

The house is usually spotless, I swear." "Spotless?

You people are con artists!" Brielle reached into her designer bag and slammed the thick red envelope onto the coffee table. "And this? I opened this last night.

It's ninety percent newspaper! Do you think I'm an idiot, Cody?" Game over. The bubble just popped. Carol, who had been playing dead on the sofa, shot straight up. "What? Newspaper?

Impossible! That was my life savings!" She scrambled across the room, snatched the envelope off the table, and ripped it open. She dumped the contents.

A few crisp hundreddollar bills fluttered out, followed by a thick clump of shredded, worthless newspaper. It rained down on the carpet. Carol froze.

Her eyes snapped to Hayes. "Hayes! What is this?

Where is the money?" Hayes pressed himself into the corner of the room, his eyes darting toward the floor. "Mom… we don't have fifty grand… I just thought we needed to save face…" "Save face?

You just humiliated me!" Carol’s entire body shook. She raised her uninjured hand, ready to slap him across the face.

Brielle watched the circus from the center of the room. "Enough. Stop acting." She crossed her arms. "I actually thought you people had class.

You're just broke." "You're broke, you're filthy, and you stink." She pressed a hand against her stomach, a wince crossing her face. "Most importantly, you can't even afford a decent meal." "My stomach is practically bleeding from the garbage you forced me to eat yesterday." "We're done, Cody.

We're through." "No, Brielle, wait!" Cody lunged forward, literally wrapping his arms around her calves. "I'm sorry! It's not my fault!

It's Sloane's fault!" "She emptied our bank accounts and ran!" "If we drag her back, we'll have the money! We'll have the food! I promise!" Carol caught on instantly.

She pointed her good hand at the ceiling, screaming like a lunatic. "Yes! It's that bitch Sloane! She must have stolen the cash before she ran off!" "Call the cops!

Have her arrested!" I watched them froth at the mouth through the iPad screen. A cold, hard smile touched my lips. Call the cops? Go ahead.

I was just waiting for an excuse to blow this whole thing wide open. THUD. A heavy crash echoed from the back bedroom. It sounded like dead weight hitting the floorboards.

Then… a suffocating silence. Hayes and Carol locked eyes. The blood drained from their faces. They sprinted down the hallway and disappeared into the bedroom.

The camera angle couldn't reach inside. All I could see was the empty hallway. Then, Hayes’s voice tore through the speaker, raw and panicked. "Dad! Dad, what happened?!

Dad, don't do this!" He screamed so loud the microphone peaked. "Call an ambulance! Call 911!" Chapter 8