Vengeance From The Past

Camila's Pov

"Please, Chef Márquez," I said, my voice cracking despite my best effort to stay composed. "Just give me another chance. One more dish. I can prove it was a mistake."

He didn’t even look up. He was too busy scribbling something into the logbook on his cluttered desk, the clatter of the kitchen beyond the office walls still humming behind us. The door was slightly ajar, and I knew they were listening. All of them. The sous chefs. The line cooks. Even Isabella, probably.

He sighed and finally raised his head. "Camila, you know how much I respected your work. But this? This is beyond repair. The man you insulted is one of our most influential clients. You saw what he did. He humiliated us."

"He humiliated me," I whispered, pain rippling through my chest. "And I didn't even do anything wrong."

"He didn’t see it that way. He’s already posted about it online. Do you understand what that means? Our reputation is on the line."

“What?! He posted it online?" I whispered. "What a disgusting man.”I couldn’t show how angry I was at the moment,but right now, I had to find a way to keep my job.

"Then let me fix it."

"No."

The finality in his voice slammed into me harder than any insult Leonel Castillo had thrown earlier that night. Chef Márquez wasn’t just my boss; he was the one who gave me my first real opportunity, the one who told me I had magic in my hands. And now, he wouldn't even meet my eyes.

"You can pick up your things from the locker. Security will escort you out."

My heart caved in on itself. The office suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. I nodded, blinking fast to keep the tears at bay. I wasn't going to cry here. Not in front of him. Not after everything.

Without another word, I turned and left the office, my shoes echoing on the polished tiles of the kitchen as I made my way to the back.

No one said a word.

I passed Isabella, who gave me a small, rehearsed frown. Like she was sad. I could see from Mar how happy she was.

I reached my locker, twisted the dial, and opened it slowly. My chef's coat, now stained with flour and garlic oil, hung limp inside. My knife roll sat at the bottom, next to a photo of me and mamá.

It was from my graduation.

Her eyes had been so full of pride.

I stuffed the photo and the roll into my bag, zipped it shut, and stood for a long moment, breathing shallowly through my nose.

I walked through the back door and into the alley, the metal door slamming shut behind me like a final verdict.

The sky outside had gone dark, heavy with clouds. I stood for a moment on the sidewalk, staring up at the glowing letters of the restaurant's name above the awning. "Casa Estrella."

The place that had once held my dreams.

Now it just stood there, cold and untouchable. Like I never belonged in it at all.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away angrily. I couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not yet.

Mamá depended on me. My little sister’s school tuition, mamá's medication, rent, papá’s debt— it all came from my salary. I didn’t have a backup plan. I didn't have savings. Everything I earned went straight to keeping us afloat.

How was I supposed to tell them I had nothing now?

And all because of a man I didn’t even know. A stranger with cold eyes and too much power.

Leonel Castillo.

His name burned into my mind like an open wound. What kind of person destroys someone's future over a single dish? Over one bite?

My phone buzzed.

It was Emilio.

Fiancé.

My grip on the phone tightened as my pulse raced,then picked up. "Hola, honey."

"Hey, mamacita. Are you home yet?"

I looked around the empty street. "Not yet. I'll be home late."

"I was thinking of coming over tonight," he said. "I miss you. Haven't seen you in two days."

My voice was brittle. "Maybe not tonight. I’m… just really tired. Can we do tomorrow instead?"

He paused. "Everything okay?"

I almost broke down right then. But I forced a smile into my voice. "Yeah. Just exhausted."

"Alright, princesa. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Te amo."

"Te amo," I whispered and ended the call.

I was thinking of going to the club to drink out my pain but then I remembered I have my family waiting for me at home then I changed my mind.

My legs carried me down the street on autopilot. Streetlights blurred through my tears. The cold air bit at my cheeks, but I barely noticed.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. I was supposed to finish my shift, go home, kiss Emilio ¡#hello, and maybe watch that telenovela with mamá while she teased me about the wedding.

Now all I had was silence and the weight of failure pressing into my chest like a stone.

I walked the rest of the way in a daze, holding my bag close like a lifeline. People passed me, cars honked, laughter spilled from a nearby bar. The world kept spinning while mine had just come undone.

When I reached my building, I climbed the stairs slowly. We lived on the third floor of a cramped walk-up with cracked walls and noisy pipes. Home, in all its imperfect glory.

I wiped my face with my sleeve and tried to compose myself. Maybe mamá would have a solution. She always did. She'd tell me we’d get through this. That I was strong.

I turned the key in the door and stepped inside.

"Mami?"

No answer.

I walked further in. The living room light was on, and I could hear faint rustling from the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

"Mami?"

I dropped my bag by the couch and moved quietly toward the noise.

That’s when I heard it.

A soft moan.

My heart stopped.

I crept toward mamá's bedroom, the door slightly ajar.

Another moan. Then a familiar voice. Emilio.

No.

Panic curled tight inside me, every breath shallow and strained. I pushed the door open slowly.

There, in the dim light of the bedroom, was Emilio Shirtless. Hovering over someone. Hands tangled in hair. Lips on skin.

The woman beneath him shifted… and I saw her face.

My shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world had just landed on them.

"M-Mami?"

They froze.

Everything inside me went still, as if my body forgot how to move.

And all I could do was stand there, trembling, as my mother and my fiancé turned to look at me—caught, exposed.

"Mami?"