He Stole My Golden Ticket for His Mistress, I Ruined Their New Restaurant

"Elena. Do you realize who you’re talking to right now?"

My heart immediately began to race uncomfortably the moment Zidane’s deep voice rang out. Besides being known for his culinary expertise, Zidane had a reputation for being ruthless and cold.

He was dangerous. I felt like backing away. But the sharp pain in my stomach reminded me once again of all Bryan’s betrayals.

"You once offered me a spot in your culinary group. I’ll accept now."

"But there’s a condition," I added quickly, without hesitation. "I want the best lawyer you can find. Seven days… I want Bryan and Livia to pay the price."

A week later, my father must be released from prison. Then I’ll file another lawsuit against Livia!

A low chuckle sounded on the other end of the line.

Brief. Chilling. Then came a firm reply.

“Alright. I’ll take care of everything.”

—

Suddenly, the door burst open just as I was about to close my eyes.

I had just returned to the hospital and was receiving the intensive care Bryan had promised.

“Elena, come with me.”

Bryan grabbed my hand, trying to pull the IV out of my arm.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but Miss Elena needs rest. She just had abdominal surgery,” said a nurse watching over me.

Bryan stared at the nurse blankly. “I’m paying you to keep quiet.”

The nurse immediately bowed her head and left.

Meanwhile, I watched as Bryan’s hands hurriedly removed my IV. He wasn’t skilled at it and struggled.

“Let go. I can do it myself, Bryan!”

But it was too late. Bryan had succeeded. But blood was gushing from my hand. The pain choked my throat.

“What are you doing? Where do you expect me to go after all this chaos?” I asked angrily.

Bryan ignored me. Panic had been etched on his face from the start. Then he dragged me out of the hospital toward the car. My blood dripped onto the hospital floor. I struggled, but Bryan used my lack of strength to his advantage.

On the way, I realized the car was heading toward a place I knew all too well.

The European Competition.

“Livia needs your help,” Bryan said without looking at me. “She said she forgot some ingredients in the recipe. To make sure Livia succeeds, you have to help her behind the scenes.”

“Are you serious?” I choked, fighting the urge to vomit. “After taking my recipe and my ticket, you also want me to help Livia win the competition of my dreams?”

Bryan stared at me intently. A look I’d never felt before.

“Just do as I say. Then our wedding will still go ahead.”

I spat. Rage flared in my chest. “Who wants a wedding? I want to leave you!”

Bryan just laughed. Loudly. “Leave where? Do you think you have a place to go? What culinary group would take in a cripple like you? You’re lucky I’m being kind enough to take you in.”

My eyes stung. My chest burned. Unable to take it anymore, I opened the car door to get out.

I wanted to jump.

I didn’t care if I got hurt. The pain of seeing my dream competition was torture enough.

But Bryan saw what I was doing. The moment the door opened, he actually sped up the car. A strong wind hit my face, making it hard to breathe. I wouldn’t just get hurt—I’d almost die for nothing if I jumped.

“Go ahead and jump if you dare, Elena,” Bryan said casually.

“Why are you backing down?” Bryan swerved the car left and right on that empty road. “Aren’t you the one who wanted to leave?”

My hands gripped the car seat tightly. I tried to hold on and not fall. The jolting made my stomach ache again. He only stopped when he saw that I had turned completely pale. I was nearly losing blood and control.

We arrived at the luxurious building that had once been my greatest goal in life.

"Take her away."

Bryan didn’t let me look for too long; he ordered his men to drag me away.

They took me to a damp, filthy place beneath the building.

The walls were damp. The floor was cold. Light came only from a single large screen glowing in front of us.

I was shoved until I fell to my knees.

“Sit. Look ahead.”

One of the men pressed down on my shoulder to keep me still.

On that screen… the magnificent stage that should have been mine was clearly displayed. Spotlights, world-class judges, and the best contestants—everything was going perfectly.

And there.

Livia.

Standing gracefully on the stage that should have been mine.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Listen carefully,” said Bryan’s henchman. “If Miss Livia hesitates, you speak up. If she makes a mistake, you correct her. You’ll make sure she wins.”

My hands trembled as they fitted me with an earpiece and a mic. The same ones Livia was using covertly.

“Do it right. If not, Mr. Bryan will put your imprisoned father in danger.”

That night, my eyes were forced to stare at the screen. Every one of Livia’s movements stole my life away.

My heart went numb. Watching Livia officially declared the winner using a recipe that was actually mine. First place. The audience cheered for her. The media scrambled to take her picture.

And then, she spoke softly through the mic connected directly to my ear. Smiling. “Elena, actually, I haven’t forgotten a single thing about your recipe.”

Her laughter hurt my ears. “I just… wanted you to see this glamorous competition and your dream. Aren’t I so kind?”

My chest burned.