Chapter 3

Chloe's POV

My hand blistered badly. Penny cried as she applied soothing ointment to my skin.

"How could Mr. Vance do this... He used to freak out if you even nicked your finger with a paring knife."

I stared blankly at my bandaged hand.

Yes, the past.

Once, when a drop of hot oil splashed on my wrist, Julian had literally replaced every single pan in the kitchen with professional-grade safety gear.

Now, half a bowl of boiling soup was dumped on me, and his only concern was comforting another woman's fake trauma.

A man's love really could vanish overnight.

"It's fine. It'll heal," I pulled my hand back, my voice dangerously calm.

I thought that was the worst Julian could do.

But I underestimated how ruthless billionaires could be.

The next morning, I was woken up by Penny's frantic phone call.

"Chloe! Turn on your phone! Look at TikTok right now!"

My stomach dropped. I opened the app.

The number one trending search was a hashtag with my name:

#ChloeLynnPoisonPans

I tapped on it. It was a video posted by a massive product-testing influencer with millions of followers.

In the video, the influencer was crying, claiming that after using the co-branded non-stick pan I had heavily promoted on my channel, the chemical coating peeled off, causing her family to be hospitalized with severe food poisoning.

She showed medical reports and photos of the flaking pan.

The comment section was a war zone.

"I trusted you! You promoted toxic garbage just for a paycheck!"

"You should be in jail!"

"Cancel this greedy influencer!"

I went cold.

That non-stick pan was manufactured by a subsidiary of Vance Enterprises.

Julian had personally handed me the product, assuring me that the quality was top-notch and asking me to help boost their sales.

Because of my absolute trust in him, I had used my own reputation to vouch for it.

How could this happen?

I immediately called the brand's PR team, but the line was busy.

In desperation, I called Julian.

It rang for a long time before he finally answered. His voice was distant. "What is it?"

"What's going on with the non-stick pans? Why are people getting food poisoning from the coating?" I asked frantically.

Silence stretched over the line for a few seconds.

"There was a minor issue on the production line. The quality control check failed," Julian said flatly.

I felt like I had been hit by lightning. "You knew? You knew there was an issue and you didn't tell me? My followers are dragging me to hell right now!"

"Calm down, Chloe," Julian's voice carried a hint of annoyance. "Mistakes happen in business."

"Then what are we doing about it? The company needs to issue a recall and clear my name immediately!"

"No," Julian refused without hesitation.

"Why?!"

"I just transferred that subsidiary to Scarlett as part of her engagement gift," Julian said, his voice smooth and cold. "The Sterling Group is going public next week. They cannot have any negative press right now."

My breath caught in my throat. It felt like icy water was being poured down my spine.

"So... to protect Scarlett's reputation, you're making me take the fall?"

"You're just a food influencer. Post an apology, take a break from social media for a while, and this will blow over," Julian said, his tone dripping with casual arrogance. "I will compensate you tenfold for your financial losses. Just be a good girl and don't make trouble for me right now."

"Julian Vance!" I screamed. "That channel is my life's work! My reputation! How dare you ruin me just to protect her?!"

"I can do it because everything you have was given to you by me."

Julian's voice was ice.

"Get a grip on reality, Chloe. At 3:00 PM, my PR team will use your login credentials to post the apology. You better cooperate."

The line went dead.

I sat on the cold floor, clutching my phone.

Looking at the vile, hateful comments flooding my screen, my stomach suddenly churned.

I ran to the bathroom and threw up violently in the toilet.

I threw up until there was nothing left but bile and tears.

At 3:00 PM, my Instagram and TikTok accounts automatically posted a pre-written statement, taking full responsibility for the faulty pans and announcing my indefinite hiatus.

In an instant, I went from a beloved food creator to a pariah.

My sponsors pulled out, leaving me with millions of dollars in breach-of-contract fines.

I locked myself in the kitchen, mechanically chopping vegetables.

I wanted to make a simple pasta.

But when I put the food in my mouth, I froze.

Nothing.

No acidity, no sweetness, no saltiness. Nothing.

In a panic, I grabbed the salt shaker, poured a handful of salt into my palm, and licked it.

Still nothing.

The extreme trauma and absolute despair had taken away the most precious thing I possessed as a cook. My sense of taste.

I stared at the salt on my hands and began to laugh hysterically.

And as I laughed, my tears fell into the white grains.

Julian Vance, you won.

You didn't just kill my love. You destroyed my dreams and my entire life.