A Recipe for Ruin The Foodie's Revenge

My husband Julian’s medical resident had anorexia, while I was a popular food vlogger with a massive appetite. When she went two days without eating, Julian brought her straight to our penthouse. With tear-filled eyes, she said, "She’s a food influencer. Maybe if I watch her eat, my appetite will come back. I see those streamers eating super spicy food all the time. Can you eat that for me, please?" To get her to eat, Julian quickly ordered a massive spread of extremely spicy takeout and set it right in front of me. For her sake, I ate scorching hot food every single day, spending hours forcing it down. On the ninety-ninth day, I clutched my burning stomach and panicked. "I can't eat anymore. I'm... I have a baby in—" I desperately wanted to tell him I was pregnant. He sneered. "Stop being so dramatic. You can gorge yourself for strangers on TikTok, but you can’t do it to help Chloe?" Forced by him, I spent another agonizing eight hours swallowing fiery chilies. Until my throat gave up, and I violently vomited while doubling over in pain. Eventually, I collapsed onto the cold hardwood floor, a massive puddle of bright red blood spreading between my thighs. I begged Julian to save me, but he merely covered his little resident’s eyes and said with disgust, "Disgusting. Don't look, Chloe." After the two of them walked out, I made a desperate call to my stepbrother abroad. "Julian... can you come bring me home?" Inside the sterile operating room, I stared blankly at the bright ceiling tiles. The moment the scalpel sliced through my flesh, blinding agony tore through me. I wanted to scream, but a plastic tube was shoved deep down my throat. The paralytic made it impossible to even twitch a finger. "Heart rate is 140, BP is climbing," a nurse’s voice sounded muffled in the distance. "Push more sedatives." The voice was painfully familiar. It was Julian, my husband. Wearing sterile scrubs and latex gloves, he was cutting open my lower abdomen with his own hands. Standing by the anesthesia machine, Chloe blinked innocently at me. It was obvious she had deliberately under-dosed my anesthesia. "Chloe, hand me the electrocautery," Julian said, his tone sickeningly gentle. Passing the surgical instrument, Chloe’s fingertips brushed against the back of his hand. "Dr. Vance, is she in pain?" "Patients under general anesthesia don't feel anything," he scoffed softly. "Focus. Once we finish this procedure, I’m taking you back out for sushi. You only managed two pieces earlier..." Liar. I was dying from the pain. Yet I couldn't tell whether my heart or my body hurt worse. I could smell the sickening stench of burning tissue from the electrocautery, and hear the wet gurgle of blood being sucked through the plastic tubing. The worst pain came from my uterus—there was supposed to be a nine-week-old fetus nestled there, but now there was only a destroyed placenta eroded by toxic levels of capsaicin. "The patient is crying!" a circulating nurse suddenly called out. Chloe leaned over me, her eyes above the surgical mask crinkling into happy crescents. "Oh, must be intraoperative awareness. Don't be scared, though. It won't hurt much longer." When the sharp curette scraped violently inside my womb, darkness threatened to swallow me whole. The wet, rhythmic sound of my nine-week-old baby and blood clots being vacuumed away was horrifyingly distinct, like dirty paper towels getting sucked down a flushing toilet. "Clear it out thoroughly," Julian told the nurse coldly. "She binge-eats ghost pepper extract every day. Her uterus is soaked in capsaicin." Then, Chloe subtly pressed the lockout button on my pain pump. As an explosive wave of pure torment detonated inside me, I heard Julian’s parting words: "It’s all your fault. Chloe finally had an appetite, and you just had to make a scene. Eating some peppers required surgery, and you even lost my first child over it." Unable to endure the hellish agony, I finally blacked out. The rhythmic beeping of the vitals monitor dragged me back to consciousness. It was already noon the next day. I opened my eyes, every fiber of my being screaming in pain. A nasogastric tube was shoved down my throat, turning every breath into a swallow of crushed glass. My phone buzzed persistently on the bedside table. It was a text from my stepbrother, Julian Vance—no, Julian had the same name, but my stepbrother was Alexander Hayes: "Hang in there, sweet girl. I'm landing tomorrow night to bring you home." Right then, the hospital room door swung open. "You're awake?" Chloe’s voice was sweet as venom. She stepped inside holding an insulated thermos, with Julian trailing behind her in a spotless white lab coat. "Chloe woke up early to make you some soup," Julian said, unscrewing the lid. A rich, heavy aroma filled the small room. It was seafood chowder. I had just undergone emergency gastrointestinal surgery; rich seafood was strictly prohibited for my inflamed gut. Julian was a board-certified surgeon. There was no way on earth he didn't know that. He simply didn't care whether I lived or died. Chloe scooped up a spoonful and held it right to my chapped lips. "Try it? I even added extra shrimp oil." The sudden movement tugged hard on my feeding tube, and my vision swam with dark spots. Julian frowned, pinning my wrist to the mattress. "Stop squirming. Chloe spent three hours simmering this for you. Don't throw her kindness back in her face." Lacking the strength to fight back, I could only jerk my face away. Without missing a beat, Chloe shoved the scalding broth straight against my lips. Blisters immediately welled up, bright red and searing. Before I could even react, Chloe’s eyes welled with tears first. "I'm so sorry! I'm so clumsy, I burned you! Let me wipe it off!" With that, she grabbed a rough paper towel and rubbed it directly over the raw blisters. "Stop! Don't touch me!"Summoning every ounce of strength left in my battered body, I shoved her back. She tumbled straight to the linoleum floor. Julian rushed over to scoop her up, glaring at me in utter disbelief. "Chloe, since when did you become so petty and vicious? Chloe is only eighteen! She's completely innocent! You’re pushing thirty—how can you be so shameless as to bully a young girl?" A tear tracked down my temple. Looking at his furious face, my heart shattered, but the pain soon gave way to a cold numbness. It was almost laughable. I swept the thermos off the nightstand, sending the hot soup splashing across the floor. Chloe knelt down on all fours, picking up the pieces while sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I grew up an orphan, so I never learned proper manners. I always looked up to you and Dr. Vance like my own family... I'll leave right now, I promise I won't ever bother you two again..." The same tired routine. Whenever things didn't go her way, she pulled the orphan card. And Julian would instantly fall for it, shielding her without hesitation, ruthlessly hurting the woman who had loved him since college. Just then, my phone screen lit up with an alert from TikTok. The hashtag #MillionFollowerFoodieMiscarriage was trending at the top of the charts. Frowning, I tapped the notification. The top post was a secretly recorded video: the thumbnail was a horrific close-up of me with blood trickling from my mouth, frantically swallowing ghost pepper noodles. The caption read: "Sacrificing Her Unborn Child Just for Views and Clout." In the clip, my usual pretty, gentle persona was completely gone. I was sobbing uncontrollably, wiping tears while desperately choking down food. The upload timestamp was last night. The comment section was filled with venomous backlash, slamming me for staging sick stunts for engagement and calling me a monster who deserved to lose a child. The account I had spent two long years building was obliterated overnight. Even worse, the internet mob was already doxxing me, leaking my personal information and phone number. Meanwhile, the account that posted the clip was being praised as a righteous whistle-blower, gaining hundreds of thousands of followers within hours. I stared at Chloe in pure shock. She cowered slightly against Julian’s chest. Julian glared coldly at me. Seeing the panic in my eyes as I clutched the phone, a brief flash of hesitation crossed his face, but Chloe’s pathetic sniffling quickly pulled his attention away. After a long pause, he actually said: "You saw the video, didn't you? The baby is already gone anyway. You made Chloe lose her appetite, so letting her get some followers out of this is the least you can do to make it up to her." As if taking that as a green light, Chloe stepped forward and yanked back my hospital blanket. Underneath my bloodstained gown, the abdominal surgical drain was still leaking pinkish fluid. She raised her smartphone and snapped a photo. "Look, the commenters are asking for an update on you... Just think of it as helping me out! Once your career is ruined, I can take over as an influencer. I'll make enough money to support both of you!" "Delete it! Stop taking pictures!" I rasped hoarsely, lunging forward, but Julian clamped down hard on my wrist. His fingers pressed ruthlessly against my IV catheter, forcing blood to back up into the plastic tube. "Haven't you thrown enough tantrums? Do you have any idea that because of your little hospital drama, Chloe weighed in two pounds lighter this morning? She cares about you more than anyone else!" I stared at him in disbelief, but as if struck by a sudden pang of guilt, he jerked his head away, avoiding my eyes. Once Chloe had taken enough photos, the two of them finally left. I lay in the sterile bed, sobbing until I could barely breathe, too terrified to look at the hateful comments pouring into my phone.Julian and I had been college sweethearts. For him, I had turned down the chance to move abroad with my mother and stepfamily, staying behind to work and use my own money to pay for his medical school and residency until he landed a prestigious hospital position. Yet my love had turned into the very dagger twisted into my chest. My body ached with deep, throbbing agony. I picked up my phone, hoping a distraction might make the hours crawl by faster. I desperately wanted to go home to Mom and my family. Social media was filled with vicious hate toward me and lavish praise for Chloe. Suddenly, a new post popped up on Instagram—it was Chloe’s private story. In the picture, Chloe was wearing skimpy black lace lingerie, straddling a bare-chested man. Her pale, thin thighs were fully exposed, with fresh sashimi arranged suggestively across the man’s abs. Her caption read: "Suddenly starving tonight. Time for a feast!" There was a distinctive dark mole right on the man’s abdomen. I recognized it in a heartbeat—it was Julian. Ha. Medical mentor and bright-eyed resident? It was all a filthy lie to cover up their affair! With shaking hands, I took a screenshot. Moments later, the story was deleted, and an incoming FaceTime audio call rang through. My trembling finger accidentally accepted it. Over the speaker came a sultry, breathy moan: "Dr. Vance... is your wife as tight as me? Don't bite so hard... ah..." Julian’s voice sounded thoroughly intoxicated with lust: "How could that old woman ever compare to you? Good girl, Chloe, just a little more..." Calmly, I started the screen recording, captured the audio, and hung up. Now that I had decided to stop loving Julian, my heart no longer broke over his betrayal. I only felt a deep, suffocating disgust for both of them. The next day, my heart was light with anticipation for Alexander’s arrival. I was finally going home. Yet my peace was shattered once again by Chloe and Julian. Early in the morning, Chloe bustled into my room under the guise of checking my blood sugar. "Dr. Vance was so rough last night, my legs are still shaking," she bragged openly, trying to provoke me. But her smirk faltered when she saw no anger on my face. "You're just an old hag. He fell out of love with you ages ago, otherwise why would he force you to eat all that spicy food?" A twisted smile touched her lips as she leaned down to whisper in my ear, "We both knew eating that much capsaicin would trigger a miscarriage. But just to keep me happy, he didn't give a damn about your baby, or your life." "He doesn't love you," she stated triumphantly. I met her gaze and smiled faintly. "And? You really think he’s going to love you forever? You mock my age, but you’ll grow old too. The day will come when he gets just as sick of you as he did of me." "One day, he’ll force you to swallow poison just to appease the next young girl he finds." "Shut up!" She raised her hand to strike me, but the sudden sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway made her freeze. In a flash, she snatched the paring knife from my bedside table, shoved the handle into my weak palm, and dragged the blade across my skin, leaving a deep, bleeding gash. Then, taking advantage of my limp grip, she used my hand to graze the blade lightly across her own porcelain neck, leaving a faint red scratch. Dropping to her knees beside my bed, she burst into hysterical tears. "I'm sorry! If cutting me makes you feel better, then do it! It's all my fault for falling in love with Dr. Vance. I was the one who seduced him last night... I'm so sorry!" I stared in stunned disbelief at her seamless acting. The very next second, Julian stormed through the door, his face thunderous. He pulled her up from the floor, his handsome features tight with bitter disappointment. "Chloe, if you have a problem, take it out on me! Chloe is only eighteen! She's battling an illness! How can you be so vicious? Did you actually try to murder her?" Chloe managed a pathetic, tearful smile. "It's fine, Dr. Vance. It really was my fault. She had every right to hurt me. Please don't fight because of me..." I threw the knife to the floor, holding up my blood-drenched hand. "Julian! Are you completely blind? Can't you see through such a pathetic trick?" Catching sight of the heavy bleeding from my palm, Julian hesitated. He took a half-step toward me, clearly intending to dress the wound. Unfortunately, Chloe whimpered right on cue: "Dr. Vance, my neck hurts so bad... and my stomach is cramping again..." Without a second thought, Julian turned his back on me and gathered her into his arms. He pressed a soothing kiss to her forehead, casting a brief, guilty glance in my direction. "I'll page a nurse to bandage you up. Chloe's stomach can't wait. I need to take her for some soup right now." With that, he carried Chloe out of the room, walking away without looking back once. By the time the nurse finished stitching and wrapping my hand, twilight was settling over the city. When a tall, imposing figure pushed open the door, I jumped in surprise. Looking at the familiar yet grown-up face, I gasped softly, "Alexander? Is that really you?" Alexander Hayes was breathtakingly handsome. Julian had always been considered good-looking, but next to Alexander, he paled in comparison. Even though we were only step-siblings through our parents' marriage, Alexander had always treated me with endless tenderness. Seeing the bruises and bandages covering my body, his jaw tightened imperceptibly. He walked to my bedside, gently wiping away the stray tear on my cheek. "You've been through hell, haven't you? It's okay now. I'm here to take you home." Alexander murmured softly, his voice dropping into a tone far darker than his usual gentle warmth: "Don't worry. Anyone who laid a finger on you will pay for every single drop of blood."