A Cold Dish Of Vengeance Novel – Today was my wedding anniversary. It was just a pity my husband Christian was not there with me. I lowered my eyes to find the gentleman in glasses still staring at me. I took a quick swallow, “excuse me?” “I am asking if you and I can start having an affair,” he said with a straight face. “You insulted me, I am a married woman,” I said, waving the ring in his face. “Four years today and I am married to a man who adores me!” I was almost yelling. To my irritation, he burst out laughing. “Your husband is cheating on you, right now as we speak,” he said, setting his phone down on the table, “He is with a woman in a hotel room in Paris.””Oh yeah! Christian, please do not stop, do not stop,” a voice came from the phone.
Amara. With my long hair tucked behind my ear, my immaculate short red dress swaying from right to left, I walked into the Foodheart restaurant with grace. The restaurant was a high-end five-star establishment and was Owned by Executive Chef Andrew Russo, a two time James Beard award winner and Iron Top Chef winner. Above all, he was my arch rival and nemesis because I always beat him. I was not boasting, but you were in the wrong line of work if you were in the culinary industry and you did not know who Amara Brown was. I stood out in the culinary industry, at just twenty-six years old, I had thirteen restaurants, three James Beard awards, four top chef titles, two chopped titles, and the distinction of being the only American Chef to receive a Michelin award.
Because of my refined and sophisticated palate, my presence in your restaurant meant you were doing something right. And that was why I was dining at FoodHeart for my fourth wedding anniversary. I was supposed to be with my husband, Christian Brown, but he was stuck in Paris due to bad weather. I intended to cancel, but Christian talked me out of wasting the money because I had made reservations and paid in full a month prior. Furthermore, he knew full well about the cooking feud that existed between Chef Andrew Russo and I. Canceling meant being lenient on the chef. So there I was, seated at a table for one that was supposed to be for two, but I changed it at the last minute. I promised to take pictures and video call Christian.
A tall handsome man, blond hair, gray eyes in his thirties, dressed in chef attire, walked to my table with a bottle of La Cuéeve. Pouring me a glass, Chef Russo said, “Good evening, Mrs. Brown, the bottle is on the house,” he smiled. The wine was very expensive; he was either buying me or trying to confuse my palate. I smiled. When we went to each other’s restaurants, we would always serve one another and play mind games, but the food and service were always the most crucial factors. “Thank you, Chef Russo. Can I have a glass of water too?” I requested. “Of course, of course. The appetizer will be out in ten minutes,” he announced. I looked at my watch and started the countdown as he ran to the kitchen. He had ten minutes to bring me a glass of water and prepare the appetizer or else he was going to receive a D minus. Within two minutes, he brought me a glass of water and ran back to the kitchen. All the other employees were not supposed to help him.
Those were the rules. We never set them, but it was all about ego, reputation, bragging rights, and competition, which we both enjoyed. The most important aspect was respect. In exactly eight minutes, he served the appetizer “Beluga Caviar,” with toast and sour cream on the side. “Enjoy,” he winked, walking away. He was such a flirt especially when my husband was not with me. I smiled and looked at the food. We usually ate with our eyes, so from the first glance, he had an A. The presentation was perfect. I snapped a quick photo, wrote a caption, and sent it to Christian. I attempted to video call him but was unable to connect. It was most likely the bad weather, so I returned to the food to taste it. The chef had a clear view of me from my seat and was watching my reaction to the food. A simple smile and a second bite meant I approved of the food.
As I chewed slowly, letting the food melt and coat every part of my tongue, a tiny smile crept onto my lips. I could hear applause coming from the kitchen as I took a second bite and looked towards the kitchen. With haste, the chef disappeared to get my main ready. I chuckled and I lowered my gaze which fell on a man seated at a table near the kitchen. Nice-looking, short, well-groomed dark hair, wearing glasses, dressed for a special occasion, nerdy yet sophisticated type. He had his eyes on me and a huge smile, most likely enjoying the comedy as well, so I ignored him and continued eating. I tried calling Christian again but was still unable to get through. Once I was done with my appetizer, my main arrived; shrimp cocktail wraps.
They were cooked to perfection. I could not help but smile again. It was the chef’s finest work yet. Perhaps he wanted to create a lasting memory because it was my wedding anniversary. It was just a pity Christian was not there with me. Again, I lowered my eyes to find the gentleman in glasses still staring at me. It was getting a little irritating. I raised my hand, adjusting my wedding ring, in case he assumed that I was single because I was eating by myself. He smiled even wider, as though I was putting on a comedic performance, which annoyed me. I grimaced and chose to ignore him because I was having a lovely evening. As I was finishing my second bite, I suddenly felt a chair being brought over at my table. When I looked up, it was the same nerd that had been sitting across from me only a few seconds before. I took a quick swallow, “excuse me?” With a deep voice that did not go with his nerdy face, he said, “I will get right to the point.” He had a somewhat British accent, but it was a little diluted.
“I am asking if you and I can start having an affair,” he said with a straight face. I coughed, intending to chuckle, but a food particle went down my throat, and I began choking. “I am sorry; are you okay?” He attempted to get up. I kept coughing and raised my hand up. I coughed out loud, and the food particle ended up landing on his face. Served him right. He closed his eyes pulling out his handkerchief while I picked up a glass of water. He apologized, saying, “I did not mean to startle you.” “You insulted me, I am a married woman,” I said, waving the ring in his face. “Four years today and I am married to a man who adores me!” I was almost yelling. To my irritation, he burst out laughing. I figured; not only was he mentally ill, but he also lacked manners.
“Did I say something funny?” I asked. “No, absolutely not. Please excuse my manners. I am Rayden Gale, 30 years old, a software engineer, and my hobbies are…” He attempted to introduce himself as if we were on a first date, but I interrupted him. “Hey, hey, I do not care who you are, and I would appreciate it if you left my table before I call security,” I threatened him. “I enjoy reading, watching soccer, and traveling,” he said, ignoring me. “I said leave!” I raised my hand for security. I had tolerated him enough. “Your husband is cheating on you, right now as we speak,” he said, setting his phone down on the table, “He is with a woman in a hotel room in Paris.” I was about to call security, but the moaning on his phone drew my attention. I took a glimpse, and it was a porn video. The man was sick in the head. I raised my eyes at him, on the verge of throwing the hot dish on his stupid face. “That’s your husband and his mistress,” he clarified. “Oh yeah! Christian, please do not stop, do not stop,” a voice came from the phone. He moved the phone to my side, and I gave the video a close inspection.
The man was on top, thrusting with all his might, making it difficult for me to see the face, but I could clearly see the woman’s face. A beautiful blond woman, though I had no idea who she was. The woman shoved the man away and dropped to her knees, letting him come up behind her and thrust deeply and that’s when I saw the man’s face. Christian Brown, my husband, brown shoulder-length hair, chiseled jaw with beautiful gray eyes. With shaky hands, I pulled the phone closer, hoping to get a better look. My husband… who had urged me to eat by myself on our wedding anniversary, was out with a woman. “You can check with any airline in France; there is no bad weather, and the last flight from Paris landed thirty minutes ago,” the nerd went on. I tried swallowing but my throat was so dry that all I could get out was a cracking sound.
My refined palate that was enjoying the expensive wine and wrapped shrimp a minute ago was now souring up into fermented eggs. Like an insatiable mosquito that would not stop singing behind my ear no matter how hard I tried to swat it away, the nerd continued, “He lied to you, he has been lying to you all this time.” Chef Russo walked to the table. “Mrs. Brown, is everything okay?” he asked. I quickly flipped the phone, my eyes clearly watery, so I could not look him in the eyes. “She is okay; our grandma just passed on,” the nerd replied on my behalf. “Oh, I am sorry, my deepest condolences,” the chef replied as tears flooded my face like a tsunami. My mind was filled with confusion, and my heart, which had been joyful just moments before, was now swollen with the stench of betrayal. I could still hear the clapping and balls hitting the hip cheeks as the chef walked away. He probably heard it too but Andrew was a man that minded his own business.
“Returning to the matters of the heart, Amara; Would you accept my offer to have a promiscuous relationship with me and make me the happiest man alive?” The crazy man in front of me asked again. I heard him clearly, but I was too preoccupied trying to process the horror that was playing on his phone. Christian was a nice, compassionate husband. Cheating was not something he could ever do to me, especially not on our wedding anniversary. Something was not right. I turned the phone, but I pushed it away because it was too disgusting to watch. However, I recalled the Nerd had mentioned something about being a software engineer. Yes! Yes, he most likely photo-shopped my husband’s face into the video with all that AI stuff going on. “This video is edited!” I spat out, wiping my tears. “Isn’t it! You think I am stupid, right!” He took his phone back and began pressing buttons. “Your husband is a two-minute man, I would have flown you to Paris but we will find he has ejaculated already,” he icily retorted.
I averted my eyes quickly. However, he continued, “I will hack into his phone and unblock you.” I looked over at him. “That is why you could not reach him; he blocked you,” he said and requested I gave Christian a call. My hands were sweating so much from the denial that it was hard for me to even hold the glass of water. “Come on, call him, and if he is not the man in the video, I will apologize and leave you alone,” he made a deal. I gathered the courage and picked up my phone. Anything to get him off the table. I dialed Christian’s number, and this time it rang. My heart skipped a few beats. The nerd turned his phone over and played the video for me to watch. He proceeded to increase the volume to the point where I could hear Christian’s ringtone in the live footage. While Christian continued to thrust into the woman, the phone continued to ring until it stopped.
For the second time, I dialed the line. “Can’t you turn that stupid phone off!” The blond woman he was with shoved him away. After apologizing, Christian got out of bed and picked up the phone. The moment he saw my caller ID, he cursed, “I thought I blocked this clinging thing!” He yelled and abruptly cut the call. For a brief moment, my heart paused while I mentally repeated the word “clinging.” Christian got back on the bed and resumed the intercourse with the blonde woman. “Was that your boring, dry wife?” The blonde woman laughed. “Yes, she is just too dull and always wants my attention every second!” He spat out, sending the girl laughing. I averted my gaze in an attempt to contain my tears, but they betrayed me and overflowed. I wanted to scream for the Nerd to turn off the video but my voice faded once more and the room became hazy. The walls began closing in around me and the air began to feel a little stuffy. I stood up, taking longer steps than before.
A white figure caught my eye and I stopped in my trucks. I was heading in the wrong direction. I was heading for the kitchen. It was Chef Andrew; he had probably finished with the dessert, but there I was, a wreck ruining his service. I wasted his time, no doubt about it, but at least I had paid in full, so he was not going to lose any money. It was embarrassing and unprofessional, but what was I to do when the man I loved, and cherished… The man I always put first was cheating on me, and he could not even respect our anniversary. I abruptly turned. “Amara!” I heard his voice, but I bolted for the door. This time, I ran in the right direction, and as soon as I was outside the door, I exhaled deeply. The fresh air was refreshing. When I looked back to make sure Chef Andrew was not following me, my gaze fell on the Nerd. He was coming toward me with my purse in his hand. I mean, he was limping in his right leg, which made walking or running after me difficult. When he realized I was staring at him, he looked away. He was clearly uncomfortable “You left your purse,” he said.
I quickly grabbed it without thanking him. How could I thank him when he did not have the decency to reveal my husband was up to in a nice way. Or could have at least waited for me to finish my dinner. “Listen, Amara, I didn’t mean to cause you any distress. Permit me to explain everything, please,” he said. I grimaced; he was nuts. And worse he knew my name. How was I supposed to react after finding out about my cheating husband or watching his intercourse video? I began looking for my car after making sure my car keys were in my purse, but like the idiot I was—or was I the cringe wife—I could not find the car. “Amara, please give me a minute of your time. I need to explain a lot of things to you,” he remarked. Irritated, I turned. “Just leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone,” I cried. “Neither your proposal nor what you are about to say interest me!” I spat in his face. He smiled, a creepy smile like some deranged idiot he was. “So that’s it; you are going to forgive your husband just like that?” He questioned, which enraged me even more. “How is my husband’s cheating, any of your business! Or how I deal with it!” I gave him a slight push. I wanted to push him hard, but he was disabled so I used less power.
“The blonde woman is Kimberly Gale,” he said. I held my head, wincing. I was not interested in knowing the woman. She probably had no idea Christian was married when they met. 80% of women never know The problem was with my husband who broke our vows. “Your husband’s affair is my business because the blonde woman is my wife,” he explained, raising his hand and showing me his ring finger. I paused like a switch, giving his words time to register. I blinked uncontrollably He was not joking, his eerie smile had vanished, and he appeared more serious. “Yes, she is my wife, and when I found out about the affair, I wanted to break your husband’s neck, actually, but then I learned he had a wife,” he explained.
I kept staring at him and taking small breaths through my mouth. “When I learned about you, Amara, I got curious and wondered what your husband found in my wife that you did not have?” he asked, posing a valid question. I averted my eyes and wondered; Was it because of my hair color? Eye color? Personality? I was not the boring type. I was outgoing and always willing to try new things, including in the bedroom. What style did I not give him that he went looking for in another man’s wife?