The moment I saw him walk in, my stomach dropped.

Colin.

The man who had shattered my heart just days ago, now waltzing into the restaurant like he owned the place. And, of course, he wasn’t alone. Hanging off his arm, with the smuggest smile I’d ever seen, was her—his new girl.

It was almost laughable. Almost. If I hadn’t been the one kicked out of my own apartment after catching them together in my kitchen. If I hadn’t spent the past two nights crashing on my best friend’s couch, trying to figure out how to move on with my life. If I hadn’t just started this job, desperate to make ends meet.

And yet, here he was, parading his affair right in front of me.

I straightened my apron, squared my shoulders, and forced a breath through my nose. I needed this job. I had no choice but to act professional.

But the moment I approached their table, Colin made sure I knew exactly why he was here.

“Wow,” he smirked. “I was wondering where you ran off to. Guess I don’t need to miss your cooking when I can still get served by you, huh?”

His girlfriend—Riley, or maybe Reagan, I really didn’t care—crossed her arms and leaned in. “We’re starving. Be quick about it, unless you wanna lose this job like you lost your house.”

A flash of anger rose inside me, but I swallowed it down. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Colin laughed. “Look at you. So obedient.”

I clenched my fist around my notepad. I wanted to throw my tray right in his smug face, but I needed this paycheck. So I turned and walked straight into the kitchen, where my hands trembled as I poured their drinks.

The chef, Marco, caught my expression immediately. “What’s wrong?”

I hesitated. Marco was intimidating, a giant of a man with scars on his hands from years of kitchen work. But he was also sharp. Observant. And right now, his piercing gaze locked onto mine.

I exhaled. “It’s my ex. He’s at table five. He brought the girl he cheated with and they’re here just to mess with me.”

Marco’s eyes darkened. He glanced through the kitchen window, then back at me. “They’re harassing you?”

I nodded, feeling my throat tighten. “I can’t lose this job, Marco.”

His expression shifted into something unreadable. Then, he set his knife down and leaned in. “I’ve got an idea.”

The moment I stepped back into the dining area, I knew something was coming.

I placed their drinks in front of them, and Riley immediately turned up her nose. “This glass has a smudge.”

Colin chuckled. “Come on, babe. She’s not exactly known for being good at anything.”

I bit my tongue and turned to take their food order. They picked the most expensive items on the menu—steak, pasta, even dessert.

I relayed their choices to Marco, who only smirked as he grabbed the ingredients. He moved with precision, but something about his movements felt… different.

That’s when I noticed the secret weapon.

A small jar of Marco’s homemade chili powder—the kind he only used when someone asked for extra spice. And he wasn’t just adding it to the main course. No, he was slipping a bit into everything.

The bread? Dusted with a fine layer.

The butter? Mixed with a drop of spicy oil.

The sauce? Twice the usual heat level.

Even the whipped cream for dessert? Laced with just a hint of heat.

“Won’t they notice?” I whispered as he plated the food.

Marco grinned. “Not at first. But when they do, it’ll be too late.”

I grabbed the tray and walked back to their table, forcing a polite smile as I placed their dishes in front of them.

Colin immediately dug into his steak. “Hmph. This actually smells decent,” he said, taking a large bite.

The first five seconds were golden. He chewed, swallowed, and smirked as if to prove a point. But then—his face changed.

A flicker of confusion crossed his features. Then his jaw tightened.

Then he coughed.

Riley, unaware, was already eating her pasta. “What’s wrong?” she mumbled, mouth full.

Colin grabbed his drink and gulped it down, only to sputter immediately. “What the hell is in this water?”

Marco. The genius. He had even added a splash of spice to their water.

I fought back a grin.

Riley reached for her bread, assuming it would help. One bite later, she gagged. “Oh my god, it’s worse!”

A couple at the next table turned toward them. “Try the dessert,” the woman offered helpfully. “It might help with the heat.”

Riley, desperate, grabbed a spoonful of the whipped cream and shoved it into her mouth.

The moment it touched her tongue, she screamed.

By now, Colin was red-faced, coughing so hard he nearly knocked over his plate. He waved me over furiously. “What the hell is in this food?”

I gave him my best customer-service smile. “All of our dishes today are made with our chef’s special touch.”

He gritted his teeth, eyes watering. “Get me something—anything!—to cool this down!”

I nodded. “Of course. One moment.”

Then I turned and walked—slowly—toward the kitchen.

By the time I returned with a glass of milk (pure, untouched by spice), they were already rushing toward the exit. Riley was fanning her mouth, and Colin was rubbing his lips like they were on fire.

Marco leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching them stumble out the door. “Think they’ll be back?”

I grinned. “Not a chance.”

The moment they left, the entire restaurant burst into applause. Even the other customers, who had clearly been watching, cheered and laughed.

And for the first time in days, I didn’t feel powerless.

I felt victorious.

That night, as I closed up the restaurant, Marco clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You handled that well.”

I chuckled. “I think you handled that well.”

He smirked. “Consider it a kitchen tradition. Nobody messes with our own.”

For the first time since the breakup, I felt… okay. No, better than okay. I felt strong. Because Colin had come in here expecting me to crumble. To be humiliated.

Instead, he left crying.

And me? I left with my head held high.

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