Kera and Sam were more than best friends; they were family. They built their careers together, side by side, until a promotion turned everything into a competition.
When Kera is accused of theft, she thinks her life is over… until an unexpected secret is exposed. In the end, she learns that betrayal runs deep, but karma cuts deeper.
I always thought betrayal would come with warning signs, like whispers behind my back, a shift in tone, something to tip me off before the knife slid in.
But no.
Instead, betrayal came with a smile.
With a hug. With the promise of friendship.
My name is Kera. I’m twenty-eight years old, and everything I have now, I built from nothing.
I was left at an orphanage as a baby.
There was no note, no explanation. Nothing. Just an abandoned girl who grew up bouncing between foster homes, learning that while people wanted to be nice, the only person she could truly rely on was herself.
That was until Sam.
We met when we were eight, two kids with no families, clinging to each other like lifelines.
We learned to cook together, sneaking into the orphanage kitchen at night to steal peanut butter or test recipes that we saw on TV.
We dreamed of becoming chefs, of running our own restaurant someday.
“One day, Kera,” Sam said. “One day, we’ll have big kitchens and lots of money! And we can buy all the food we want.”
“I know,” I said, smiling.
It felt good to dream.
It felt good to look forward to something. To see a future that was bigger than we ever thought we could have.
And we worked for it, too.
We got into culinary school on scholarships and hopes. And, surprisingly, we graduated at the top of our class.
We thrived on creativity and passion. On the days we felt like giving up, we pushed through. We pushed each other, and if we fell, we fell together.
“I’ll always be here, Sammy,” I told her one day after we ended up in the ER.
Sam had been too enthusiastic when chopping up herbs and had an incident with a knife.
“I know, K,” she said, smiling through her painkillers.
“It’s together or nothing, right, sis?”
Eventually, we landed jobs at one of the best restaurants in the city. We didn’t know how Lady Luck kept shining on us, but we were grateful that she did.
Side by side, Sam and I climbed the ranks, proving ourselves in the brutal, high-pressure world of professional kitchens.
So when the head chef position opened up, we were both the top candidates.
That day, after the announcement, Sam pulled me aside.
“No matter what happens, let’s not let this ruin our friendship, okay?” she said, squeezing my hand.
I smiled.
“Of course,” I said. “Nothing changes.
But I am starving. Let’s get some food on our break. A greasy cheeseburger from that place down the road sounds like it would hit the spot.”
She smiled back, but there was something… off.
A little too much relief in her voice, like she already knew how this would play out.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s meet there. I have something to do first.
A pharmacy run, you know.”
I ignored the feeling. Sam was my best friend, after all.
But I shouldn’t have ignored any of my feelings. The first worrying sign was when Sam didn’t meet me for lunch during our break.
She just didn’t show up.
That evening, after the dinner service, I was cleaning up my station when our boss, Chef Reynard, stormed into the kitchen. His face was like stone, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine.
“I didn’t expect this from you, Kera!” he thundered. “I thought you were better…”
Silence fell.
The entire staff froze, utensils clattering, conversations dying mid-sentence.
“Chef?” I swallowed hard.
He turned to the room.
“Everyone, to the break room. Now!”
The weight of his words sank into my stomach like lead. Something was very, very wrong.
What was Chef on about?
We filed in, confused, exchanging nervous glances. Chef Reynard stood at the front, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
“This evening, during an inventory check, something was found,” he said. “Stolen black caviar.
In Kera’s bag.”
I stopped breathing. I broke out into a sweat. I felt dizzy.
My bag?
My stomach twisted into a hundred knots.
“That’s impossible!” I gasped.
Chef Reynard didn’t react.
“I announced earlier today that I’d be doing an inspection.
Someone’s been stealing from my kitchen.”
His eyes were sharp, scanning the room.
“And tonight… I found this.”
He held up a small glass jar of caviar, the kind we only used for high-end VIP guests who ordered top-shelf alcohol like it was absolutely nothing.
I stared at Chef’s hand, looking at the glass jar like it was a snake, waiting to strike.
“I didn’t take that,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I swear on my life, Chef. I would never… I would never jeopardize my position here!”
“Then, Kera, how did it end up in your bag?” His voice was calm but firm.
I opened my mouth, then shut it.
I didn’t have an answer. I felt dizzy.
Sam sat beside me, her hands clasped in her lap. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.
She didn’t offer an encouraging smile. Or a hand squeeze.
A sick feeling curdled in my gut.
Chef Reynard exhaled.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t fire you right now.”
I froze.
“Come, Kera. Tell me.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
I looked around the room, at my coworkers, at the people I had worked beside for years.
Some of them looked skeptical. Some looked outright disappointed.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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