Liam and I had what seemed like a solid marriage, but after a miscarriage, he grew distant. I later discovered him with my childhood best friend, Daria — half-dressed and laughing in my kitchen. Too drained to fight, I simply told them to leave, filed for divorce, and cut ties. He stayed with her, flaunting their relationship online while I rebuilt my life from scratch.

Two years later, while closing my restaurant, I heard a familiar voice. Liam and Daria stood there, mocking me as if I were still struggling. They laughed about me working “menial jobs” — until I told them I owned the place, had designed it, hired the staff, and was fully booked for weeks. Their smug faces froze instantly.

When they demanded a table, I refused. The next day, a one-star review from them popped up, calling me “bitter.” I replied publicly, explaining I’d declined service to rude, disrespectful customers. My regulars rallied, flooding the page with five-star reviews and praise. A local food blogger even called it “justice served hot.” Business soared.

As for Liam and Daria, they vanished from my life again. Now, I’m engaged to my head chef, Mark — kind, steady, and nothing like my ex. When I told him the story, he grinned and said they got exactly what they deserved. I just smiled. “It’s not revenge,” I told him. “It’s dessert.”