When Chloe paraded a PR team into my kitchen, claiming my three years of scallop recipe development as her masterpiece, I didn't scream. My CEO fiancé, Julian, coldly informed me that to secure his IPO, my entire menu would be branded under his influencer mistress's name, while I was demoted to her backstage assistant. Instead of arguing, I handed over a seemingly flawless written recipe, silently omitting the crucial intuitive calibration that only existed in my mind. By instructing my lawyer to activate the absolute withdrawal clause, I chose to permanently bury our seven-year relationship and my dream of the Aura restaurant. Tucking the legal injunction into my pocket, I smiled at Julian and said, "Tomorrow’s press conference will definitely be unforgettable for you."