Chapter 1

During our lunch break, my male coworker and I decided to grab lunch at a local pasta diner.

Since I'm secretly a food streamer on the side, I made sure to tell the owner specifically, "Same portion size for both bowls, please."

Yet when the food arrived, my bowl was literally half the size of my male coworker's!

I picked up the bowl, walked up to the counter, and asked, "Excuse me, what is this supposed to mean?"

The owner rolled his eyes and barked loudly, "Why does a girl need so much food anyway? What are you, a pig?"

Instantly, the entire diner went dead silent, and all eyes turned to us. My coworker frantically tugged at my sleeve, whispering, "Let it go, Chloe. Just let it go."

I ignored him, slammed the bowl down on the counter, and said, "I want the exact same portion he got!"

That set the owner off completely.

He threw his ladle down with a deafening clatter, grabbed a giant mixing bowl the size of a washbasin, filled it to the brim with pasta, and slammed it onto my table.

"Eat it! Don't even think about leaving until you clean the whole damn bowl! If you finish it, lunch is on me!"

The diner fell pin-drop quiet.

I stared down at the massive mountain of pasta, and a slow grin spread across my face.

What a wild coincidence.

I happen to be a professional mukbang streamer, and I was just stressing over what viral content to shoot today!

The owner leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, cigarette dangling from his lips as he jutted his chin at me.

I knew that smug look all too well.

After three years of food streaming, what kind of petty hate hadn't I seen?

People constantly told me I'd get fat, claimed a woman eating this much was a waste of groceries, or slid into my DMs just to call me a glutton.

But this guy was the very first person bold enough to call me a pig to my face.

The corner of my mouth ticked up as I pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Deal. Your words: finish it, and it's free."

I dug my phone out of my purse, propped it up against the condiment holder, and angled the front camera perfectly to frame both me and the giant bowl of pasta.

The owner blinked, clearly stunned that I actually had the nerve to take him up on it.

"Quit acting tough," he sneered.

He dragged a metal chair out from an empty table, slammed it down right across from me, flopped into it, and crossed his legs.

"I've seen plenty of posers like you. You take a selfie for Instagram, take two tiny bites, and claim you're stuffed."

Without even glancing at him, I tapped into my streaming app and typed in my title: Free Meal If I Finish This Giant Basin.

Go live.

My regulars flooded the room within seconds, and comments instantly filled the screen.

[She's live! What are we eating today, queen?]

[Holy crap, is that a mixing bowl?! It's humongous!!]

[Wait, who's the creepy dude glaring behind her?]

I picked up my fork, tapped it neatly against the table, and arched an eyebrow at the camera.

"Hey guys, happy lunch hour! Today, we're having pasta."

I twirled a generous bite, blew on it, and slid it into my mouth. My eyes lit up.

Credit where credit's due—the food was actually damn good.

I looked up at the lens, my eyes curving into happy crescents.

"Wow. Honestly, the flavor here is insane!"

The owner let out a dry scoff, but his eyes were glued to my phone screen.

"If it's that good, eat every bite. Don't waste my food."

The viewer count kept climbing—3,000, 5,000, 8,000.

People in the chat started recognizing the diner.

[Wait! Isn't that the pasta joint right beneath our office building? That owner is notoriously rude!]

[My bestie and I went there last week, and he told us girls should only order the kid's size! I walked out on the spot!]

[Girl, put him in his place for all of us today!!]

I shoveled another massive mouthful of pasta in, cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk, and flashed an "OK" sign at the camera.

The owner uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his eyes narrowing at my bowl.

One-fifth of the mountain was already gone.

An elderly lady at the next table leaned over, her brow furrowed with deep concern.

"Sweetheart, slow down. You'll make yourself sick eating like that."

I waved my hand gently and gave her a warm, easy smile.

"Don't worry, ma'am! I'm just getting started."

Gifts started raining down on the stream, and the comments began hyping up the leaderboard.

[Drop some love in the chat for our top gifter!]

[I just shared the stream link in our company Slack! My entire team is watching!]

My coworker Mark was sweating bullets beside me. He'd been frantically tugging my sleeve the whole time, keeping his voice to an urgent whisper.

"Chloe, let's just drop it. I'll pay for your meal, okay?"

I turned and shot him a sharp look, and he quickly pulled his hand back.

The owner jumped in, raising his voice so loud it practically rattled the windows, determined to make sure my stream microphone picked up every word.

"You hear that? Even your coworker has more sense than you! A woman eating like an absolute beast—good luck ever finding a husband!"

The entire diner froze.

I set my fork down, looked straight at him, and let every ounce of expression drop from my face.

"Do you run a restaurant, or are you running a matchmaking agency?"

"Whether I ever get married has nothing to do with you."

"You cooked the pasta, I paid for the meal. How I choose to eat it is none of your business."

The owner's face flushed bright red. I picked up the bowl, took a leisurely sip of the savory broth, and added coldly:

"If you've got a problem with it, go get me a bigger bowl."

Furious, he whipped around and stormed into the kitchen. His wife tried to call after him, but he blew right past her.

Loud clattering echoed from the kitchen, followed immediately by a sharp, suffocating smell of burning spices that overtook the entire dining room.

He marched back out holding a sizzling bowl of ghost pepper chili oil and dumped the entire thing right onto my pasta. Hot red oil splashed across the tabletop, turning the broth a menacing, pitch-black crimson.

He shoved his face inches from mine, spitting as he yelled:

"Extra toppings on the house! Aren't you a big eater? If you finish it, I'll pay you double! But if you don't finish every drop, you aren't walking out that door today!"

Between us sat a giant basin of pasta smoking with deadly red oil.

The live chat was moving so fast the comments were just a blurred streak.

[CALL 911!! SOMEONE CALL THE COPS!!]

[Girl, stop! That much ghost pepper will destroy your stomach lining!!]

[Where is this place?! I'm calling an Uber right now!!]

I looked down at the bowl. The red oil was still bubbling, the pungent heat stinging my nostrils.

Then, I picked up my fork, twirled a huge bite of the fiery pasta into my mouth, chewed calmly twice, and smiled straight into the lens.

"Well, chat, someone just offered to treat us today. Let's make it worth his while!"