Chapter 3

"Dear User, your administrative privileges for the account 'Savor & Spice' have been removed by the account owner."

The system notification hit my inbox at 3:14 AM.

I sat on the hardwood floor of my new downtown apartment, surrounded by half-unpacked moving boxes, staring blankly at the words.

"Savor & Spice." I came up with that name three years ago, tracing it onto the fogged-up window of our tiny old place. Ethan had simply said, "Sounds good." We used a headshot of his face for the avatar, and the registration was under his phone number.

Back then, I didn't care. Now, it was a legally binding eviction notice.

At 7:00 AM, Chloe posted on Snapchat.

It was a photo of the studio workstation—my workstation, my spice wall. Right in the foreground was an open, weathered notebook.

A kraft paper cover, A5 size, with a dried coffee ring on the bottom-right corner.

Mine. Over two hundred dish development logs, detailing spice ratios, cook times, and temperature tweaks, every single page covered in my messy red-ink annotations.

Chloe's caption read:

[Clearing out the studio space and stumbled upon this holy grail of inspiration notes. Turns out all the magic behind 'Savor & Spice' was tucked inside this little treasure. Blood, sweat, and tears on every page. Can't wait to pour my heart into every upcoming dish! ️]

*We.* She used the word "we."

The comment section was buzzing:

*Chloe is so dedicated!*

*Ethan and Chloe are such a power couple, the channel is about to blow up!*

*The old content was fine, but it always felt kinda cold and soulless. With Chloe here, the whole vibe feels so warm and human.*

Human. Every single frame of color correction, every voiceover draft, every dynamic camera angle had been meticulously polished by me, frame by frame, deep into the night on my editing timeline.

I took a screenshot of her post and saved it into a newly created folder.

Then, I called Ethan.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Did you send the recipes?"

"You kicked me out of the admin panel."

"The platform only allows one primary manager."

"It supported two before."

"That was before," he clipped, pausing for a beat. "Stop dragging your feet over tiny details."

"Why is my notebook in Chloe's hands?"

"What notebook?"

"The kraft paper journal. Over two hundred recipes. She posted it on Snapchat."

A two-second silence. "That was left in the studio. It doesn't count as your private property."

"My name is written inside the front cover."

"Writing your name makes you the owner? Every single video on that channel features my face. Does that mean the entire brand belongs exclusively to me?"

The same old circular logic. Every time we argued, he did this—using an abstract, towering concept to crush a concrete fact.

"Ethan, every single recipe in that notebook was developed by me. You know that."

"I'm not denying you contributed. But those results were produced under the 'Savor & Spice' umbrella. They're channel IP. You never signed any independent intellectual property agreement."

I never signed one. Because it never crossed my mind that I needed a formal contract with my own boyfriend.

"What do you even want?" he snapped, his patience snapping. "You won't send the files, and now you want the notebook back—are you trying to cling onto the brand and me at the same time?"

"I already let you go."

"Then stop crawling back to pick fights. Chloe is ten times more practical than you. The minute she gets her hands on something, she gets to work. She doesn't sit around dwelling on petty grudges."

He exhaled heavily, switching to a patronizing, soothing tone. "Avery, real talk: I remember the things you did. But you have to understand, 'Savor & Spice' got this far because of my face, my screen presence, and my networking. Your part was important, but you're not irreplaceable."

Irreplaceable. I was irreplaceable when they needed passwords. Irreplaceable when they needed recipes. Once they took what they wanted, I became instantly replaceable.

I hung up, opened my laptop, and navigated to the official trademark database. I typed "Savor & Spice" into the search bar.

When the result loaded, I sat frozen.

Trademark Owner: Ethan Miller.

Registration Date: Two months ago.

Two months ago. We were still together. It was right after our biggest fight—the night Chloe called him at 2:00 AM asking for a ride from the airport. He had told me, "Let's take a few days to cool off."

During those "few days," he went and filed for the trademark.

While I was grinding away on the fourth draft of the Golden Pot sponsorship deck.

My phone buzzed. A text from Ethan:

[Golden Pot wants a video call to lock down the campaign details. No need for you to join, Chloe will handle the pitch. If you can, send the recipe doc tonight.]

I looked at the phrase: *No need for you to join.*

I texted back two words:

"Got it."