Chapter 2

"You're just in time. Take those spice jars of yours with you; Chloe brought her own set."

Ethan was standing by the studio entrance, treating me like a courier who had just arrived to pick up a package.

From inside came Chloe's soft voice: "Ethan, is this lighting flattering on me?"

I looked past him.

She was wearing my apron. An ivory linen piece I had bought from an artisan cooking studio in Kyoto—one of a kind. The ties were neatly knotted behind her waist. Her phone was mounted on the heavy-duty rig I had built by hand, the camera pointed straight at the floor-to-ceiling spice wall I had spent a year and a half curating.

"What are you filming?" I asked.

"Oh, Avery, you're here!" Chloe tilted her head with a bright smile. "I'm just shooting a studio tour vlog! The fans have been begging for one forever—"

"You're filming *my* studio?"

"It's the 'Savor & Spice' studio," she corrected gently, turning her phone around.

The live chat was flying:

*Such a professional setup!*

*Chloe has the best aesthetic!*

*The new vibe is so fresh, can't wait for the new era!*

Every single glass jar on that spice wall was something I had hauled back myself from local markets across the country. Cajun rubs from New Orleans, artisan chili pastes from Nashville, rare spice blends from Chinatown. Every single jar had a handwritten label.

Written in my handwriting.

Chloe panned her camera across the shelves, beaming. "I gathered all of these one by one. In content creation, ingredients are the soul."

Ethan stepped inside and casually took his place right beside her.

"I'll pack my own things," I said, moving past him to drop my personal tools into my bag.

"Don't take stuff that belongs to the studio," he said, holding out a hand to block me.

"And what exactly belongs to the studio?"

"Everything on the counter, except your knife, pretty much. The camera rigs, the ring lights, that heavy-duty stand mixer—"

"I bought that mixer with my own money."

"With channel earnings."

"That was payment for my labor."

"Your labor was in service of the channel," he said, his tone so casually entitled it was almost innocent. "Can you stop making this so personal? Honestly, everything you did... anyone else could have done it."

Anyone else could have done it.

### 小说标题

He Thought I Was Replaceable### 全文翻译

Two hundred videos. Every single one, from initial concept to final cut, had passed through my hands.

Chloe ended her livestream and leaned in close, dropping her voice to an intimate whisper, like two best friends sharing secrets.

"Avery, I really don't want to make things awkward for you. Honestly, Ethan and I are purely business partners. If you really don't want me wearing this apron, I can take it off—"

She said it, but her hands didn't move an inch toward the ties.

"Keep it on," I said, crouching down to grab my baking pans from the bottom cabinet.

"You're so gracious, Avery." She took another half-step closer. "Not gonna lie, Ethan had a few too many drinks last night and opened up to me for hours. He said you're a really good person, just way too..."

"Too what?"

"His exact words were—'Being with her feels like living in a room without windows. Suffocating.'"

Two days ago, I was plain boiled pasta. Today, I was an airless room.

"I think you're great, though," Chloe purred, batting her mascara-heavy lashes. "Quiet people have their own quiet charms."

On the other side of the room, Ethan looked up from his phone. "Chloe, come pick out the ceramic bowls for next week's hot pot shoot."

Chloe jogged over, her voice bright. "Ethan, what about Avery's handcrafted ceramic set? It looks so gorgeous on camera—"

"That set belongs to the studio too," Ethan said, flicking a cold glance at me.

I packed my last item into the duffel—my German chef's knife.

Chloe trotted back over to me. "Oh right, Avery! Ethan just landed a massive brand deal with Golden Pot Hot Pot. Seventy-five thousand dollars! Did you know?"

"No."

"Ethan said you were the one who reached out to them originally? Anyway, he asked me to take over the account. Golden Pot needs an original recipe pitch deck—"

"I haven't sent the recipe master doc yet."

"Right, right, I know! Could you send it today? Golden Pot is pushing for it."

Golden Pot was a deal I had spent three months chasing, making over twenty cold calls. Ethan had dismissed them back then, calling them a niche brand that wasn't worth his time. I was the one who drafted four revisions of the proposal just to get their executive to sit down for a chat.

Now that it was a seventy-five-thousand-dollar contract, it suddenly had nothing to do with me.

I picked up my duffel and walked toward the exit.

"I took my knife."

Ethan didn't even look up. "Where's the recipe doc?"

"I'll think about it."

"What is there to think about?" He finally raised his head, his brows knotted in irritation. "Are you holding the recipes hostage to leverage me?"

Chloe chimed in from the side, her voice soft and diplomatic: "Ethan, relax, Avery isn't that kind of person..."

I pulled the door open.

I took one last look back—Chloe was standing there in my handmade apron, poised in front of the shooting counter I built, backed by the spice wall I curated, getting ready to film a sponsored video with my recipe, credited entirely to her name.

"Avery," Ethan called after me, barking like a manager reprimanding a subordinate. "Send it over by tomorrow night. Otherwise, don't blame me when I tell everyone you're sabotaging business deals over personal drama."