The Food Lab Novels & Stories

It's 11:30 pm. Home alone, I decide to order some takeout. When the map shows the delivery guy is zero miles away, I receive a call from him. I pick up, only to hear unsettling silence from the other end. I hang up, annoyed. The next moment, the guy texts me, "Sorry, I'm hearing-impaired and unable to speak. I called to notify you to pick up your food as soon as possible. I can't explain things over the phone, and I apologize for that." Then comes another text. "You must've been waiting for a long time. I've left your order at your door, so please pick it up as soon as you can." Just as I prepare to open the door, I see bars of live comments—reminiscent of livestream chats—floating right before my eyes. "Don't open the door! That dude isn't a delivery guy at all! He's a murderer!" "He called you to check if you're a woman living alone!" "Seriously, why are all thriller story protagonists always so dumb? The delivery guy is obviously suspicious, yet she still wants to open the door."

After I reincarnated, I went to the hospital right away to get an abortion. In my past life, I was suddenly found to be pregnant with fraternal boy-girl twins after a childless marriage of five years. I was told that I needed to abort one, or I could die due to the excess size of the foetuses, but while I hesitated, I heard my son's voice. [Mommy! You have to abort this brat—she's going to kill me! She's been stealing all the food!] [She's not my sister—she's Tina and daddy's bastard! They used black magic to move her here and kill me, while you would treat her like your own daughter… and she can then inherit all the family wealth!] Hearing that, I promptly went to the hospital to abort the twin daughter, keeping the son. But on the day I went into labor, he threw a fit, punching and kicking my room until he finally killed me. And just before I died, I heard him gloating. [Stupid broad! You really believed me and aborted your own daughter! Just die already! I'm going to meet my parents!] When I opened my eyes again, Tina was sitting right in front of me, telling me to abort one of my babies…

To fulfill the Bet-on Agreement, I pretended to be a nobody and interned at my husband Evan Grant’s company for a week. On my first day at work, I ran into a woman waving a Marriage Certificate around at the front desk like she owned the place. “Do you even know what a marriage certificate means? It means I’m the only one for Mr. Grant! “Why are you standing so lazily? Is your spine weak, or do you just not see me? Lower your head! Keep it down until Mr. Grant arrives! “Is the cafeteria food terrible? I’ll have the Michelin chef spice it up for you!” I was about to step forward when a colleague grabbed my arm. “She’s Mr. Grant’s First Love,” they whispered. “I heard he proposed a hundred times before she finally said yes…” The colleague nodded toward the certificate and warned me kindly: “The worst that happens if you offend Mr. Grant is you might get fired. But offend Mrs. Grant… and you’ll vanish completely.” I nearly laughed out loud. I pulled out my phone and called my brother. “Lucas, get Evan here. Bring the divorce papers too. I want to see him on his knees begging me within five minutes.”

My mom, Susan, had a habit of sending me to get her shopping. However, she would always leave out a zero when paying me back what was owed, blaming on her poor eyesight. I never minded. In fact, I would just cover the cost without another word. Then, Summer, my sister, had to throw shade. “Mom sends you money whenever she wants something. You never show us the actual costs, though. I bet you’re making a nice little profit off Mom behind our backs.” Susan smiled and didn’t even bother to defend me, as if confirming Summer’s accusations. My heart sank. Over the years, I had bought her things from major appliances to the smallest groceries, and each time, the payment she sent was short. Susan would just brush the whole thing off by saying, “Oh, my eyes aren’t what they used to be. My bad.” I had poured hundreds of thousands into her expenses, only to end up with a reputation as a thief who cheated her own family. When Susan sent me money for the New Year’s Eve catering, I simply booked food that fit the budget she paid for.

On the day I was supposed to swap marriages with my sister, Sylvia Hayes, I chose to be a battalion commander's wife instead. Then, watching Sylvia wither away from late-stage stomach cancer until she was nothing but skin and bones, a few strange lines suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Great news! The heroine is about to be reborn!] [What a joke. What good is being an officer's wife? That scumbag will take his mistress to live on base with him, leaving her to starve in that old house!] [After she's reborn, she should pick Miles Williams, the steel factory director! He secretly kept her photo and loved her his whole life!] Miles, the husband Sylvia used to mock as 'nothing but a money-grubbing brute,' was holding a tin cup, trying to give her water. Sylvia suddenly grabbed his wrist, her bulging eyes boring into me. "Laura Hayes...you had food saved up. Why wouldn't you help me?!" She died with her finger pointed at me. Miles' jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles in his cheeks bulged, and then he suddenly lunged forward and wrapped his hands around my throat. When I opened my eyes again, the room's blackened mud walls were hung with an old, faded calendar.

Three years after graduation, I was waiting tables at a restaurant when I happened to run into some of my old classmates having a private dinner there. The moment they saw me carrying trays, they burst out laughing. My old rival Elliot sneered that I was a useless nobody, then pulled out 50 bucks and tossed it in front of me, telling me to lick the food scraps off his shoe. "Clean my shoe, and that fifty's yours!" Even my ex-girlfriend joined in to humiliate me. "I can't believe this is what you've become three years after graduation, Chase. Good thing I dumped you when I did—I'd hate to be the girlfriend of some broke loser." Elliot and a few others pinned me to the floor, forcing me to kneel and even bark like a dog. My ex clapped her hands, laughing. "Chase, you really do look like a dog when you're on your knees." Then, the restaurant manager rushed in. The moment he saw me, his face went pale with shock. "M–Mr. Levine… are you all right, sir?" Blood dripping down my forehead, I pointed at everyone in that room. "No one leaves this room tonight."

After Celine Anderson let her newly-promoted assistant take credit for my billion-dollar project for the ninth time, I handed in my resignation letter. I also refused to show up in the same place as her. Whenever she was interviewed by talk shows as a public figure, I would switch off all the screens in the building. I also got the security guard to stop her from entering even if she brought me a cup of coffee in the middle of a tornado. To see me, she purposely rescheduled three virtual meetings with foreign companies. So, I immediately bought air tickets to leave the country. I blocked her everywhere and formatted the hard disk that contained all of our memories from the past decade. When I was twenty, I studied with her in the university library. When I was twenty-five, I ate the cheapest bread with her when she first started her company. When I was thirty, I finally knew how to let go of things that no longer serve me. On the ninth time I was accused of sleeping my way up, I came across a photo of her and her assistant kissing. Meanwhile, I was sitting at our dining table with food that had turned cold. It turned out that our decade-long relationship had been a joke. However, it was fine. It was not too late to come to my senses.

The student I once sponsored, Lillian Pegg, jacked my identity, slapped on the "rich heiress" title, and started tossing out houses and cars like she was some fairy godmother for "underprivileged" students. Her big mission? Making sure everyone had a roof over their head. My in-laws? Wrapped around her finger. They swore up and down she'd saved their lives. Even Liam—my son with my late husband—acted like she was the only mom he'd ever had. Meanwhile, I was puking blood from ulcers, and everyone treated it like a bad improv act. Liam bought every word out of her mouth. Thought she and my husband were some kind of twin-flame couple and labeled me the evil baby snatcher. Fast-forward: I got locked in a bedroom and left to bleed out. Then I woke up. It was the exact day Lillian was playing Santa Claus. The crowd around her practically worshipped her. "You're the kindest boss in the world! You care about our food, clothes, housing, everything. We'll support you and your company forever!" Yeah, not on my watch. I shut down all her privileges right then and there. This time? Lillian and that backstabbing son of mine were gonna eat regret for the rest of their lives.

Veronica Murphy has always lived in the shadows—abducted at birth, raised in poverty, and forced to watch her identical sister, Tiffany, enjoy the life that should have been hers. But one fateful night changes everything: while delivering food, she risks her life to save a bloodied stranger from a burning Ferrari—unaware that the man she just saved is Matthew Kings, the cold, ruthless heir of one of Bloomstead’s most powerful families. Her bravery earns her nothing but danger. Recognized as Tiffany by Matthew’s family, Veronica is pulled into a world of wealth, manipulation, and family politics she never asked to enter. Betrayed and powerless, she must endure lies, stolen credit, and the threat of losing her adoptive parents’ lives—all while navigating the tangled desires of a man who is as dangerous as he is irresistibly handsome. When Tiffany steps in to claim the credit for Veronica’s life-saving act, Matthew is drawn to the wrong woman, and Veronica is left to watch from the sidelines…until the truth surfaces, and her patience turns into vengeance. In a world ruled by power, deception, and obsession, Veronica must fight to reclaim her identity, protect her family, and survive a man who could either be her greatest enemy—or the one she can never forget.

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart bound herself to a transfer system: everything she ate would be redirected straight into my stomach. She opened a streaming account and broadcast herself eating for twelve hours straight. She earned a fortune. Meanwhile, I collapsed with acute pancreatitis and was rushed to the hospital. When I explained the situation to my boyfriend, he only stared at me like I was insane. "How could something that absurd exist? If food could really be transferred, no one in the world would ever starve. You're just jealous that she's making money from streaming." After that, every time his childhood sweetheart went live, I ended up hospitalized again. I kept hovering between life and death. I sought medical help, but the doctors couldn't explain my condition. Some even wanted to commit me to a psychiatric ward. Then, one day, in order to outdo her rivals in a PK match, she devoured ten pounds of rice in a single sitting. At that very moment, my spleen and stomach ruptured, and I bled to death on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of her very first livestream. This time, I was prepared. I rushed out and bought twenty takeout meals. "This time," I said, "I'll eat first."