When the billionaire CEO brought his pristine ex-girlfriend back home, I was standing there in my apron, holding a spatula, about to ask if he wanted me to whip up some extra sides. But the moment the ex saw me, she pointed a finger and burst into tears. "I knew those trashy romance novels weren't lying! The moment I moved to Europe, you got yourself a rebound lookalike to keep in your house!" Wait... what? I looked down at my chef’s uniform and then at the spatula in my hand. Nobody gave me the memo that I was supposed to be a placeholder clone! Before I could even process this, the ex-girlfriend, Tiffany, continued her dramatic monologue. "No wonder you barely called me while I was abroad. You already had a new toy to keep your bed warm, completely erasing me from your mind!" "And now that I'm back, you can't even bear to throw this trash away. Fine! If that’s how it is, I'll step aside and let you two be happy!" Looking at Tiffany’s tear-streaked, tragic-heroine face, I stood there completely dumbfounded. Seriously, what script was she reading? Wasn't I hired by the billionaire Carter Harrison for a cool one-million-dollar annual salary just because of my Michelin-star culinary skills, specifically to cure his chronic stomach ulcers? How did I suddenly become the "sexy new rebound"? Even Carter couldn’t help but frown. "Tiffany, what nonsense are you talking about? You’ve only been in Paris for three months, and I literally flew over to see you every single weekend. How is that ignoring you?" "Also, this is Chloe. She’s my private chef. Stop making up weird stories." "A chef?" Tiffany let a single, perfect tear slide down her cheek. "Since when do private chefs look this young and pretty?" "And I love wearing white silk! She’s wearing white too! If she’s not my replacement, what is she? Carter, babe, stop lying to me!" I looked down at my white chef's jacket, then at Tiffany’s white designer silk dress. My eyelid twitched. The only thing these two outfits had in common was that they were made of white fabric. I let out a sigh and spoke up. "Miss Tiffany, I am literally just the chef. If you don't believe me, you can check the stove. I’ve been simmering a organic chicken consommé for the past four hours." But Tiffany covered her ears and stamped her stilettos. "I’m not listening! I’m not listening! Even if there is soup, you two probably staged it just to gaslight me!" Carter rubbed his temples in exhaustion. "Then tell me, what will it take for you to believe Chloe is just the chef?" "Fire her. Only then will I believe you," Tiffany said, looking like a detective who had cracked the case. "The novels say the first love and the lookalike can never coexist. Otherwise, she will eventually seduce you and steal my crown! Carter, I can't lose you. She has to go." Hearing this, Carter’s frown deepened. He looked at me, hesitating. His stomach issues were only halfway cured, and his gut was currently entirely dependent on my cooking. But if he didn't send me away, Tiffany was clearly going to make his life a living hell. After a long moment, Carter finally made up his mind. He walked over to me and said in a low voice: "Chloe, I know our contract says you're a live-in chef. But given the circumstances, I need you to temporarily move into my luxury penthouse downtown." "I'll double your Uber allowance for commuting, and I'll throw in a three-month salary bonus as compensation. How does that sound?" My eyes instantly lit up. His penthouse was only a five-minute drive from this villa. Not only would I get double commuting cash, but I’d also pocket an extra quarter-million dollars for doing absolutely nothing? This was a massive win! I nodded without a second thought. "No problem at all, Mr. Harrison. Do you need me to pack right now?" I immediately pulled out my phone to call a moving company. Carter froze, clearly not expecting me to be so incredibly cooperative. A strange flicker of emotion crossed his eyes. He opened his mouth, but in the end, he just nodded. "Yeah. Go ahead." The moving truck arrived in record time. As I was directing the guys with my suitcases, Tiffany strutted over in her high heels, looking down her nose at me. "Chloe, so what if you tried to squeeze into his life while I was gone? In the end, you're still getting kicked out like trash. In Carter's heart, I am the only one who matters. No matter how hard you try, a fake will always be a fake!" At that exact moment, my phone buzzed. It was a bank notification. A shiny six-figure bonus had just hit my account. Looking at Tiffany—the very angel who had secured me this fat check—she suddenly looked incredibly beautiful to me. I smiled warmly and agreed, "Oh, absolutely! You are the center of Mr. Harrison's universe. I could never compare to you, ma'am." Tiffany sniffed arrogantly. "At least you know your place." She turned and strutted away. Not far off, I heard the head butler, Arthur, asking her which room she wanted to occupy. Without hesitation, she declared: "I want the locked room. The one filled with my photos that Carter stares at every night to ease his broken heart." Arthur looked utterly confused. "Ma'am... we don't have a room like that." Her voice immediately went up an octave. "How is that possible?! In every romance novel, after the first love leaves, the billionaire always locks up a secret room that no one else can enter, dedicated entirely to her memory! Just because you're a butler doesn't mean you know everything!" I didn't hear the rest. I just shook my head, offering a silent three-second prayer for Arthur’s sanity.
After moving into the penthouse, my life became incredibly relaxing. Aside from sneaking back into the villa under Arthur’s coordination—completely avoiding Tiffany’s line of sight—to prep Carter’s three meals a day, my time was entirely my own. My skin was glowing, while Arthur was visibly aging by the day. During one of our secret handoffs, I couldn't help but ask: "Arthur, is the villa really that busy lately? You look like you haven't slept in a week." Arthur let out a heavy sigh. "Don't get me started. Miss Tiffany is driving me to the brink of insanity." "On her very first day, she demanded Mr. Harrison fire me. The reason? Because I didn't tell her she was 'the first woman the master had ever brought home.'" "The next day, she asked me if Mr. Harrison had smiled even once in the three months she was gone. I made the mistake of showing her an Instagram photo of him smiling at a charity gala last week, and she got so mad she smashed my phone." It was like Arthur had finally found a therapist. He let out a whole week’s worth of pent-up trauma. Looking at him rant, I felt incredibly relieved. Thank God I packed my bags on day one. If I had stayed in that villa playing out her dramatic soap opera every day, I would have lost ten years of my life. But it turned out I celebrated too early. Peaceful days only lasted a little while before the doorbell of my penthouse started buzzing like a fire alarm. The moment I opened it, Tiffany pushed past me and marched inside. Like a peacock inspecting its territory, she walked around the living room before turning to me with a smug sneer. "No wonder you left so easily. Carter has been hiding you in his secret love nest all along!" My temple throbbed. I just wanted to get rid of her. "Miss Tiffany, I am literally just a hired chef. If you don't believe me, I can show you my employment contract." I pulled the document out of my drawer and handed it to her. The moment her eyes scanned the salary figure, her pupils dilated. "One million dollars?!" She snatched the contract and slammed it onto the coffee table, scoffing. "What kind of chef makes a million dollars a year? This is obviously your sugar baby allowance!" I earned every cent of that money with my sweat and tears. Her words were a direct insult to my professional honor. Losing my patience, I pulled out my phone and dialed Carter directly. "Mr. Harrison, could you please put a leash on your ex?!" From the other end of the line came a heavy, exhausted sigh. "Is she there? Put her on." Tiffany snatched the phone with a smug look, but as she listened, her face turned pale. Finally, she glared at me, muttered a quick "Fine" to Carter, and slammed the phone down. She lifted her chin, trying to regain her regal posture. "You got lucky today! But don't think I'm letting this go. Carter is just blinded by you right now. Soon, he'll realize that a counterfeit like you can never replace the real thing!" She slammed the door on her way out. Listening to the echo, I seriously considered asking Carter for some mental distress compensation. To avoid any more drama, I stopped going to the villa altogether for the next few days. I prepped the meals at my penthouse, packed them in premium bento boxes, and had Arthur pick them up for Carter. But when Arthur showed up today, he brought back the lunchboxes along with a gold-embossed invitation to Tiffany’s "Welcome Back Gala." Looking at the fancy card, my head began to throb again. Just as I was about to refuse, Arthur whispered: "Miss Tiffany forced Mr. Harrison to host this. He said if you attend, he’ll pay you twenty times your usual holiday overtime rate." Arthur looked at me with an expression that said, You lucky brat. I immediately snatched the card and smiled. "Overtime rate? Please, tell Mr. Harrison that if he needs me, I am always there to support his business!" The gala was held at the Harrison estate. When I arrived, Tiffany was playing the grand piano in the center of the ballroom. The soft spotlight hit her, finally giving her that "pristine first love" aesthetic. As soon as some of the city's young tech billionaires and real estate moguls saw me walk in, they immediately swarmed me. "Chloe! Are you catering tonight’s gala? If so, my stomach is in for a treat!" "Hey Chloe, are you looking for a new gig? My mom is literally begging to hire you. Name your price." "..." The piano music stopped abruptly. Everyone instinctively looked over at Tiffany. She picked up the microphone, her eyes practically shooting fire at the crowd surrounding me. "Let me introduce myself. I am Tiffany, Carter’s one true love. The girl you are crowding around is just a cheap placeholder he kept while I was away." "If you want to network, make sure you're talking to the right person. Don't waste your time on the help!" The guests looked at each other, their faces filled with utter confusion. Then, they turned back to me and continued chatting. Tiffany was convinced I had brainwashed everyone while she was in Paris. Furious, she remembered something, and a cold smirk formed on her lips. Holding up her designer gown, she walked over to me, her face switching to a fake, sweet smile. "I might have played well, but I heard Miss Chloe is a master pianist herself. Why don't you play a song to entertain our guests? Surely, you wouldn't want to insult everyone by refusing."
Tiffany looked at me, completely expecting a trainwreck. She had already done her homework. Chloe was tone-deaf and had never touched a piano in her life. If I tried to play, I would humiliate myself in front of high society. Once that happened, Carter would realize his "lookalike" was nothing but a low-class fraud. Tiffany was practically drooling at the thought of my public disgrace. But I just shrugged. "You heard wrong. I don't know how to play the piano at all." Tiffany’s smug grin froze. She stared at me in disbelief. "You’re just... admitting it? In the novels, the lookalike always tries to play anyway to copy the first love, even if she sucks! Why aren't you following the script?!" By the end of her sentence, she was practically having a mental breakdown. This was her grand welcome-back party, designed specifically to humiliate me, and I wasn't playing along. Just then, Carter walked over after finishing a business call. Seeing her teary-eyed, he frowned. "What's going on?" She threw herself into his arms, sobbing dramatically. "Carter, babe, Chloe is bullying me!" Carter looked at me with a sigh. I immediately held up my hands. "I didn't do anything." The nearby guests quickly explained the situation to Carter. He rubbed his temples, looking visibly drained. "Chloe, just go play something. I'll bump your overtime pay to fifty times." I grinned instantly. "Mr. Harrison, you are the best boss ever!" I walked over to the grand piano, sat down, and slammed my hands onto the keys, creating a chaotic, ear-splitting racket that sounded like a cat being run over by a lawnmower. It was the complete opposite of Tiffany’s elegant performance. Tiffany smirked triumphantly, looking around the room, waiting for the guests to start laughing and pointing fingers at me. However, the guests just clinked their champagne glasses, completely ignoring the noise. She stood up, utterly shocked. "Why aren't you guys laughing at her?! Call her a low-class street rat who doesn't belong here!" One of the tech bros looked at her like she was crazy. "She’s a chef, not a concert pianist. Why would we mock her for not knowing how to play?" "Exactly. Besides, piano skills don't define a person. Chloe might not play music, but her Truffle-crusted Beef Wellington is practically a religious experience. People have flaws, get over it." Tiffany snapped, her voice screeching: "But you guys are just the background extras for this party! Your only job is to mock the fake lookalike! Why aren't you doing your job?!" The entire ballroom went dead silent. You could literally hear the champagne bubbles popping. Mr. Sterling, one of the most powerful billionaires in the city, let out a cold laugh. "It seems Mr. Harrison's party is too elite for us. We're apparently just 'background extras.' Since we're in the way, we'll take our leave." Within minutes, most of the high-profile guests walked out. No matter how much Carter tried to apologize, they refused to stay. Carter’s head was pounding, but Tiffany was still shouting at their retreating backs: "Let them leave! I am Carter's queen! If they offend me, Carter will make all their companies go bankrupt tomorrow!" With that final comment, the remaining guests left too, looking at Tiffany like she belonged in an asylum. The grand gala was a total disaster. I was about to sneak out too, but Tiffany grabbed my wrist. "You can't leave!" "Carter, the party is ruined, and it’s all Chloe’s fault! She set me up to make me look bad! You have to punish her!" Carter’s face went completely cold. The disappointment in his eyes was undeniable. "Tiffany, can you stop acting like a psycho? What happened to you?" Tiffany's face drained of color. "You're taking her side over mine? Carter, you say I changed, but it’s clearly you who changed!" "If you're choosing her over me, you'll regret it!" She grabbed her designer bag and stormed out of the villa. I patted Carter’s shoulder sympathetically. "Rough night, boss." "By the way, don't forget to wire that fifty-times overtime pay to my account."
Just as I turned to leave, Carter groaned, clutching his stomach, his face turning pale. His ulcers were acting up again. Well, looks like I couldn't leave just yet. I helped him to the sofa and rushed to the kitchen to brew him a soothing herbal remedy. After taking care of him all night, his color finally returned to normal. I stretched, getting ready to head out, when I saw Tiffany pacing nervously outside the front gate. Clearly, because Carter hadn't chased after her last night, she was too embarrassed to just walk back in. Seeing me walk out, her eyes flared with rage. "I was gone for one night, and you couldn't wait to jump into his bed?!" "Chloe, you're much more devious than I thought. But don't get smug. I have plenty of ways to ruin you!" I didn't even want to respond. Talking to her felt like it was actively lowering my IQ. As I walked past, Tiffany seemed to make up her mind and rushed into the villa. "Carter, babe! I thought about it all night, and I realize I was wrong. I know Chloe is important to your health. I won't try to kick her out anymore. Please forgive me!" Seeing Tiffany crying so pitifully, Carter’s expression softened. "I’m glad you finally understand." "In that case, Chloe, why don't you move back into the villa? I really need you around these couple of days." I knew Carter was referring to his stomach issues, but Tiffany obviously misconstrued it. Seeing that Carter didn't deny her "love triangle" theory and even took me back, her face turned pale with resentment. But then, she flashed a wicked, plotting smile at me. My stomach sank. I had a feeling things were about to get messy. While I was on high alert, Arthur the butler seemed to have found a kindred spirit in me. Every day, he would sneak into the kitchen to gossip about Tiffany’s latest antics. One afternoon, right as he finished whispering, Tiffany’s voice rang out from behind us. "Carter, look at Chloe! You pay her so much money, and she’s still throwing herself at other men in your house!" By "money," she meant my "sugar baby allowance." Carter didn't get her reference, but he frowned anyway. "Arthur, you're an employee here. Please maintain professional boundaries." Arthur offered a awkward smile and quickly slid out of the kitchen. Seeing that Carter only scolded Arthur but didn't say a word to me, Tiffany’s eyes burned with jealousy. The next day, while I was prepping lunch, Tiffany suddenly burst into the kitchen and snatched the chef's knife from my hand. "Chloe, your little game ends today! This is the day you get kicked out of the Harrison family!" With that, she grabbed the knife, sliced open a hidden bag of fake blood near her waist, and immediately let out a dramatic shriek. "Ahhh! It hurts! Chloe, I just wanted to help you chop some vegetables! Why did you stab me?!" Hearing the commotion, Carter ran downstairs and caught Tiffany as she "collapsed" onto the floor. His brow furrowed deeply. "Chloe, I know you’ve been put through a lot lately, but you can't just resort to physical violence!" I calmly pointed to the ceiling corner. "Mr. Harrison, there are security cameras in the kitchen. Before you play the hero, maybe check the footage first?" Tiffany clearly hadn't anticipated the camera. Panic flashed in her eyes. Seeing Carter reach for his phone to check the live feed, she immediately grabbed his lapels, crying hysterically. "Carter, babe, I'm bleeding out! Forget the camera! Take me to the hospital, please!" Panicked by the "blood," Carter scooped her up and ran to his car. After thinking about it, I texted Arthur to secure the footage, and then took an Uber to the hospital. Inside the examination room, seeing that the nurse had stepped out, Tiffany grabbed the doctor’s hand and slid a black titanium card into his pocket. "Listen to me. In a minute, tell the guy outside that my kidney is failing from the stab wound, and I need an immediate transplant from the girl who came with us. Got it?"
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