Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
Natalie Vance and I grew up together in the same orphanage.
From childhood companions to lovers, our bond was supposed to last a lifetime.
Shortly after she gave birth to our son, her biological parents found her. Overnight, she became the sole heiress to the ultra-wealthy Vance family.
Our son was immediately placed into elite private tutoring, and his last name was stripped away and replaced with Vance.
Years later, when I handed Natalie the divorce papers, she barely looked up.
Irritated, she asked me why.
I answered calmly:
"Because last night, the dinner I cooked went cold."
"You're walking away with nothing?"
"Don't be impulsive, Theo. Leo is never going with you."
Natalie’s eyes never drifted from her phone screen. Her company’s IPO was right around the corner.
I used to feel so proud of how far she had come. Now, all that was left between us was shattered glass.
"I give up custody of Leo."
"Before we got married, we only had that tiny apartment in the old neighborhood. That's the only thing I'm keeping."
At the mention of that cramped little flat where we once huddled together, Natalie’s brow softened slightly.
"Are you still mad that Julian Sterling drove me home last night? He’s just a business partner."
Right. A "partner" who knew full well she was married, yet pursued her relentlessly without shame.
I stayed silent, just looking at her.
It had been a long time since I’d had the chance to look at her this closely.
Her makeup was flawless, and the pink diamond studs in her ears cost more than our combined expenses for months back then.
Just a few years, and everything had changed.
Seeing me shake my head, she asked with growing impatience, "Why are you doing this?"
I replied softly:
"Because last night, the dinner I cooked went cold."
Before Natalie was reclaimed by the Vance family, I was a full-time fiction writer. My only real passion outside writing was cooking.
She majored in finance. In those early days, the hours were brutal and the pay was miserable; she frequently skipped meals.
Every single day, I packed fresh, hot lunches and brought them to her office. She used to hold my hands and tell me it was the best food in the world.
Then the Vance family found her. She insisted on keeping her past, and she swore she would never leave me.
I continued doing what I had always done, preparing three warm meals for her every day.
During that first year of luxury, she swore she wanted to eat my cooking for the rest of her life.
Yet just a few years later, she came home reeking of alcohol, draped over another man's shoulder.
I had taken her from Julian's arms, urging her to eat something warm to settle her stomach.
She looked down at the dishes I had spent hours making, her face twisting in pure disgust:
"We have private chefs in this house. Stop wasting your time making this garbage every day."
"I offered you an executive position at the firm, and you refused. Do you really have nothing better to do with your life?"
I never cared for corporate politics, and I had no desire to touch the Vance empire.
Our son, Leo, was deeply attached to her. Only when he heard her voice did he run downstairs for dinner.
I handed him his plate, but he shook his head.
When I asked why he wouldn't eat, Natalie snapped at me for my tone.
"He prefers five-star Western dining over homemade slop. What’s wrong with that?"
Empowered by his mother's backing, Leo shoved the bowl away with all his might.
The ceramic shattered on the hardwood floor. Boiling soup splashed across my forearm, searing my skin.
Natalie merely pulled the boy into her arms, murmuring sweet comforts to him.
Then, without sparing a glance at my red, blistered arm, she said:
"Have the maids clean it up. I’m tired."Looking into Natalie’s bewildered eyes right now, I didn't bother explaining myself.
In her world, only multimillion-dollar cash flows mattered anymore.
And as for Leo, he couldn't care less about me.
Bred in the cradle of elitism, he had fantasized more than once about having a more formidable father—a tycoon who shook the business world, not a man who enjoyed lingering by a stove.
Only in the bright morning sunlight did Natalie finally notice the burn marks on my arm.
She called Leo over:
"Your father got hurt last night. Go apologize and comfort him."
Leo was a champion in junior speech competitions, charismatic and articulate, yet in front of me, he never deigned to speak.
I grew up without a father. I naively believed that pouring endless warmth into my child would earn his love in return.
Turns out, I didn't have that magic touch.
Leo merely stared at me with cold, detached eyes. Aside from the babbling baby sounds of his toddler years, he had stopped calling me dad long ago.
"You don't deserve to be my dad."
Natalie playfully tapped his nose, as if that were punishment enough.
"The old apartment is a dump. The legal paperwork will take a while, so you can stay here for now," she said casually.
"Don't you love that high-end cookware set I bought you? It's too heavy to move anyway."
I had already packed my things the night before. Just a single suitcase.
"If no one's using the cookware, throw it out."
After saying that, a bitter smile crept onto my face. The Vance family had their meals planned, prepped, and delivered by private culinary teams.
If it weren’t for me, this mansion wouldn't even need a kitchen, let alone an absurdly expensive set of chef's knives.
"Are you heading to the old flat?"
"I'll have Thomas drive you."
"No need," I said, looking at mother and son with a distant smile.
"Both of you have extensive food allergies. Make sure to have the family doctor run an allergen panel and brief the chefs."
With that, I turned on my heel and walked out. I didn't look back at the two people I had once loved more than life itself.
I didn't head straight to the old apartment.
Instead, I drove to the orphanage—the place that raised me from nothing.
Natalie and I had once promised to visit together. But the Vance family felt the orphanage was a stain on their reputation, so the trip was postponed indefinitely.
Over the years, I had quietly donated a portion of my book royalties here. The moment I walked through the iron gates, Director Martha recognized me.
She didn't know about the divorce. She took my hands, reminiscing about the old days.
Natalie and I had grown up here side by side; she was a year younger than me, both of us scrawny and small back then.
Director Martha pointed toward the back kitchen, laughing as she remembered how I used to stand on my tiptoes, watching the cook and begging to stir the pots.
Natalie hated garlic, but orphanages didn't cater to picky eaters. So whenever I was allowed near the stove, I secretly made sure not a single clove touched her bowl.
Listening to Martha’s fond memories, a spark ignited inside me. I volunteered to cook lunch for the kids today.
Chopping fresh vegetables, simmering hearty broth over the fire, I was soon surrounded by a swarm of wide-eyed kids chirping with joy:
"Mister Theo cooking is so cool!"
"It smells so good! I want to be a master chef when I grow up too! I'm giving you ten stars!"
Bathed in their innocent praises, my mind drifted back to the first time I met Natalie's wealthy parents. She had been far more nervous than I was.
When they learned I was a freelance writer whose favorite hobby was cooking, their disdain was barely contained beneath their high-society etiquette.
Her father had sneered coldly:
"Men of real stature build empires; only the useless play house in the kitchen."
Word traveled fast in their elite circle. Suddenly, Natalie had an endless swarm of socialite friends.
Every time someone visited the penthouse and saw me in the kitchen, they would mockingly smirk at Natalie:
"Your husband is truly a rare breed. He actually cooks like a maid."
Julian Sterling would furrow his brows in faux sympathy:
"Natalie, doesn't he smell like grease all the time? How do you even stand sleeping in the same bed?"
After enough whispered jokes, Natalie's pride began to crack.
Still trying to preserve my dignity back then, she gently told me:
"When friends come over, let the hired help handle the food."
"It's not like the Vance family can't afford a private chef."
Leo absorbed every word like a sponge:
"My dad isn't some smelly kitchen maid."
"You're embarrassing me. A real father is supposed to be a superhero."I stayed at the orphanage for a few days before returning to the old apartment.
Suppressing the ghosts of memories lurking in every corner, I began clearing out the clutter.
When Natalie was taken back by the Vances, they told us to leave everything behind; the estate had everything a child could ever desire.
The decor of this tiny place had frozen on that very day.
I once thought her return to wealth was a winning lottery ticket. Turns out, it was just the alarm bell waking me from a beautiful dream.
After boxing up everything that belonged to Natalie, I crashed onto the bed and slept straight through until noon.
When I checked my phone, there were a dozen missed calls—all from Natalie.
While I was browsing through them, an unknown number dialed in.
"Hello, is this Leo Vance's father?"
"I'm Leo's homeroom teacher. Leo is refusing to eat the cafeteria lunch today. He claims his father always packs his meals personally."
The teacher paused, her tone polite but strained:
"Did you happen to forget since it's the start of the term?"
I frowned, having no idea what game Leo was playing.
Leo attended the most exclusive private academy in the city; their dining hall prioritized both Michelin-star flavor and balanced nutrition.
Besides, the last few times I had packed lunchboxes for him, he brought them home completely untouched.
"Hello, ma'am. He doesn't need my cooking anymore. The family's private chefs will handle his meals from now on."
I added calmly:
"I am no longer Leo's father. You can contact his mother directly regarding anything about him. Please don't call me again."
The teacher must have had the phone on speaker, because Leo was clearly standing right next to her.
A sharp gasp echoed through the receiver:
"Leo! Don't run off!"
The teacher stammered an apology and abruptly hung up.
I thought back to my own youth; I never had such unpredictable, turbulent teenage angst.
Though in truth, Leo’s demeanor had always been chillingly consistent.
His grandparents hated having him around me, taking him away to their country club every summer break.
Consequently, Leo grew colder by the day. At first, he would ask:
"Why do you always do servant's work?"
"Don't you realize you're wasting your life?"
"Other kids' dads fly private jets. Why do you only know how to make dinner?"
Eventually, he stopped talking to me altogether. The only way I knew what school assignments he had was through the parent portal.
He didn't care, and the Vance elders were only too happy to see him cut ties with me.
I hung up and headed out to the local market.
Just as I was comparing cast-iron skillets, Natalie’s call came through.
"What did you say to Leo? He's throwing a fit and refusing to eat!"
"Can you just come home? The boy still needs you."
In the background, a deep, familiar male voice chimed in:
"Let's just take Leo to my family's new steakhouse downtown."
Natalie seemed to step away from him before speaking into the phone again, her voice lowered:
"That was just a business partner. Do you know where my allergy meds are? The new chef put carrots in my salad; he didn't know I was allergic."
Her voice carried a rare touch of helplessness. I rubbed my temples, utterly exhausted.
"Natalie, if you can't find something, order it online or tell your butler to run to the pharmacy. It’s a lot faster than waiting on my phone call."
"I told you to get a medical allergen test for both you and Leo so this wouldn't happen."
Natalie fell silent for a long moment.
"Can you at least send your recipes to our chef? Great-Grandpa misses your cooking terribly."
"And what about Leo’s school projects? You're just dropping them? I'm swamped at the office."
Hearing her mention Great-Grandpa softened my heart for a split second.
He was the only elder in the Vance family who had ever stood up for me, and he genuinely loved my food.
Still, I refused to be dragged back into their toxic orbit.
"Homestyle recipes are all over the internet."
"Natalie, the boy never recognized me as his father. You know that better than anyone."
"I'm starting a new chapter of my life. Stop disturbing my peace, both of you. Let's just leave each other alone."
Chapters (3)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Watch & Promotions
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