Besides My Wife, No One's Cooking Is Good Enough

PROLOGUE

The tweet landed in the dead of night, an anonymous confession ghosting through the endless scroll of a sleeping Los Angeles.

It wasn't from a verified account.

No blue check.

No name.

Just a string of numbers and a gray, default avatar.

But the words& the words were pure, uncut Hollywood royalty.

"Sleepless. Anxiety is a beast. My wife won't let me get involved in her career, but her set is crawling with young, eager actors."

"I spend my days secretly fending off rivals I've never met. I'm terrified they'll taste one of her meals on set, fall in love with her cooking, and then fall in love with her."

"What happens if she leaves me? I can't eat anything that isn't made by her. Is this what an eating disorder feels like?"

The internet, an insomniac beast itself, stirred.

A few night owls retweeted it as a joke.

Then a popular meme account screenshotted it.

By sunrise, it was a firestorm.

Gossip forums ignited. Reddit threads exploded. The anonymous poster was quickly, and aptly, christened "The Billionaire Shut-in."

It didn't take long for the digital bloodhounds at TMZ to sniff out the trail.

An intern, high on caffeine and ambition, cross-referenced the tweet s linguistic patterns with interviews of LA s most reclusive elites.

The verdict, splashed across their homepage by 9 a.m., was seismic.

**EXCLUSIVE: JULIAN ARCHER, HEIR TO THE $50 BILLION ARCHER MEDIA GROUP, IS SECRETLY MARRIED. AND HE S NOT HAPPY.**

The article was brutal, dissecting the tweets with surgical precision and narrowing the list of potential wives down to four A-list actresses who had projects currently in production.

And just as the speculation reached a fever pitch, a new piece of evidence dropped, perfectly timed, onto the roaring fire.

Cassandra Rhodes, one of the four names on TMZ s list, posted a new video to her 30 million Instagram followers.

A little something for my hardworking team on set, she purred into the camera, her smile a practiced masterpiece of warmth and humility. The Culinary Starlet is on duty!

The video was a masterclass in calculated perfection.

Sunlight streamed into her pristine, white marble kitchen as she effortlessly plated a gorgeous pecan-crusted salmon.

Fans went insane.

The comments section flooded.

* OMG SHE S THE ONE! Julian Archer is the luckiest man alive! *

* The Culinary Starlet cooking for her man! This is the romance we deserve! *

Top-tier entertainment blogs picked up the story immediately.

*E! News: Is Cassandra Rhodes the mystery wife of Julian Archer? All signs point to YES!*

*Variety: Rhodes and Archer: Hollywood s New Power Couple?*

By nightfall, the narrative was set in stone.

They were the perfect couple.

The tortured billionaire and the beautiful, talented actress who soothed his soul with her cooking.

A modern-day fairy tale.

And in her sleek, minimalist condo in the Hollywood Hills, Penelope Langley watched the whole circus unfold on her phone, a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth.

She took a slow sip of water, her face a mask of calm.

Margo, her agent, was pacing a hole in the expensive Persian rug.

"This is a category five disaster, Penny. Cassandra is hijacking your life and turning it into her own personal PR campaign."

Penelope set her glass down with a quiet click.

"Let her," she said, her voice even. "Let her have her moment."

She looked at her own hands, the hands that had spent years mastering the delicate art of French cooking, the hands that knew exactly how much spice Julian could handle, the hands that had fed him every single day of their hidden marriage.

"A stage built on lies," Penelope murmured, more to herself than to Margo, "is the easiest one to burn to the ground."

01

"And we have one more permanent guest joining us on the road. Please, let's try to be patient."

A week ago, I had signed on to a new reality show called *Star Chef Showdown*.

Before the contracts were even drawn up, the director made one thing crystal clear: it was a live-broadcast competition.

No cuts.

No edits.

No safety net.

Julian had been against it, of course.

But our prenuptial agreement was ironclad on this point: he did not interfere with my work.

It was the bedrock of our arrangement.

Now, we were all gathered on the sprawling set two fully functional restaurant kitchens built facing each other waiting for the final, dramatically late cast member to arrive.

Margo suddenly pulled me aside, her expression grim.

"Have you seen the trending topics on Twitter?" she whispered, her eyes darting around as if the walls had ears.

Her caution sent a familiar chill down my spine.

Had I been canceled again?

It had taken me seven grueling years to claw my way onto the A-list, all thanks to one massive, culture-defining hit show.

But my reputation was a constant battleground.

They called me a "nepo baby," assuming my success was handed to me.

They trashed my acting, ignoring the accolades.

They painted me as a helpless princess who couldn't function without an army of assistants.

A knot tightened in my stomach. I rubbed my temples, bracing for the worst.

"What is it this time?" I sighed. "My red carpet dress? That brand event last week? Did I accidentally offend someone by breathing in their general direction?"

Margo s mouth twitched.

"None of the above. It's your husband. He went on an anonymous late-night Twitter rant, connected with some pop-psychology influencer, and nearly burst into tears on a live stream, transforming into the Hermit of Hollywood Hills."

The marriage between me and Julian Archer was the best-kept secret in Hollywood.

The only person in my professional circle who knew the truth was Margo.

Her words, however, piqued my interest.

She showed me her phone.

Someone had screen-recorded the entire cringeworthy exchange, and it was now playing on a loop across every major social media platform.

"Sleepless. Anxiety is a beast. My wife won't let me get involved in her career, but her set is crawling with young, eager actors."

"I spend my days secretly fending off rivals. My wife's cooking is incredible. I'm terrified they'll eat her food and fall in love with her!"

"I don't know how to live without her. But I have to pretend to be this cold, aloof guy because that s the type she likes."

In that single live stream, Julian had spoken more than I'd probably heard from him in the last month.

So that was it.

His daily performance of cool, detached indifference& it was all an act.

For me.

Julian Archer was the sole heir to the Archer Media Group.

Born into staggering wealth and power.

His mere presence commanded attention.

And now, the entire internet was feverishly trying to guess the identity of his mystery bride.

The sharks at TMZ smelled blood in the water. Within hours, they published a bombshell report: the secret Mrs. Archer was one of the four A-list actresses on *The Hollywood Reporter's* latest 'Next Gen' list.

Margo gasped.

"Penny, you're on that list! Don't tell me you've been exposed!"

02

Before I could even process it, a new headline devoured the old one.

My industry rival, Cassandra Rhodes, was trending worldwide.

`#CassandraRhodesArchersWife`

`#JulianAndCassandraPowerCouple`

`#CassandraRhodesMarried`

It turned out Cassandra had casually posted a new video to her Instagram.

A beautifully shot montage of her preparing an elaborate meal.

The caption was simple, devastatingly effective.

"The Culinary Starlet is back in the kitchen!"

Since her debut, Cassandra had meticulously crafted a public persona of being effortlessly perfect at everything.

Especially cooking.

She was obsessed with it.

Whether she was on a talk show or on a movie set, there was always a clip of her showing off her supposed culinary skills.

Over time, the public had bought into it completely.

They d even nicknamed her "The Kitchen Queen."

TMZ had already primed the pump, stating the mystery wife was one of the 'Next Gen' four.

Now, by posting this video, Cassandra was pouring gasoline on the fire.

She was leveraging the media storm to solidify the rumor, to elevate her own status.

The internet, naturally, took the bait.

She *had* to be Julian Archer's wife.

Margo was staring at her phone, bewildered.

"What in the world is going on? Maybe you should& call your husband?"

My relationship with Julian was& complicated.

We d grown up together, two lonely kids from powerful families. During our teenage years, I d had a fleeting, one-sided crush.

But he d suddenly become cold, distant.

Then he left the country for six years.

When he returned, he proposed.

Just like that.

Before we married, he had the lawyers draft an ironclad agreement. No interference in my life or my career.

He knew my independent streak, and to protect my professional ambitions, he agreed to a secret marriage.

Since then, we d maintained a polite, respectful distance.

But recently, he d started coming home more often.

He d sit at my dining table, a silent, unmovable fixture, and consume whatever I placed in front of him with a quiet intensity.

I'd loved cooking since I was a child, and I knew his palate better than my own.

I learned to make the spiciest dishes just for him, to satisfy his ridiculous tolerance for heat.

Of course, when he annoyed me&

A wicked little part of me would take over, and I d cook an elaborate, multi-course meal of classic French cuisine the one thing in the world he couldn't stand.

Even then, he d clean every plate without a word of complaint.

I hesitated, wondering if I should text him.

I unlocked my phone and was immediately bombarded by a notification apocalypse.

99+ messages from Julian.

"Penny, are you angry? I had a little too much to drink last night, and I just& started talking."

"Now that you know the real me, I'm done pretending."

"Wife, please don't divorce me."

"Okay, if you insist on a divorce, we can get remarried right after."

"I'll even move into your place. We can have kids and they can take your last name, I don't care."

"The world is ending. I have a terrible feeling you're about to block my number."

"Penny, Penny, Penny& "

And then, the final message, sent just moments ago.

"Don't be angry, my love. I'm going to make sure she crashes and burns on live television. No one cooks better than my wife. No one."

I instantly understood.

The mysterious, late-arriving cast member was almost certainly Cassandra Rhodes.

And right on cue, Cassandra swept onto the set, a whirlwind of apologies and dazzling smiles, instantly becoming the center of everyone's universe.

"Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry! The notification came in so late, I rushed right over!"

03

Cassandra was indeed the final permanent guest.

The rest of the cast included Liam Sterling, a rising heartthrob; Sophie Chen, a high-fashion model; veteran actor Grant Colby; and our host, the notoriously sharp-tongued Tara Banks.

The premise of *Star Chef Showdown* was to have us open and run two competing pop-up restaurants, with the winner determined by who earned the most revenue each day.

We were split into two teams of three. A random draw placed me with Liam and Sophie.

Cassandra was teamed up with Tara and Grant.

Our two restaurant spaces were identical, set up directly across a small, charming studio courtyard from each other.

The moment the cameras started rolling, Cassandra was in performance mode. She immediately stood at the entrance of her restaurant, "Hearth & Vine," charming the gathering studio audience.

"I'm a professional foodie, everyone! You name it, I can recreate it perfectly for you!"

The live stream chat, visible on monitors around the set, exploded with praise for Cassandra.

`[user8374] My queen is so adorable! I wish I could be there to taste the Kitchen Queen's food!`

`[juliancassie4eva] That's Julian Archer's wife, cooking for the public! So humble, I love her!`

`[hatergonnahate] LOL Team Penelope is so awkward. None of them can cook. Are they gonna burn the kitchen down?`

When it came time for our team to choose a head chef, Sophie immediately deferred to me.

"I'm a disaster in the kitchen," she admitted with a laugh. "I can chop vegetables for you, but that's about it."

Liam shrugged.

"Guess that makes you the head chef, Penelope."

I had no objections. I d been honing my skills since I was old enough to reach the stove. I was confident I could handle it.

As everyone bustled around, I caught Cassandra exchanging a subtle, knowing glance with the show's assistant director.

My brow furrowed.

What was she planning?

Within half an hour, Cassandra's restaurant was packed. Not a single table was empty.

While serving a dish, she shot a look in my direction, a flicker of smug satisfaction in her eyes when she saw our complete lack of customers.

She was clearly pleased with herself.

On the pretense of borrowing a piece of equipment, I walked over to her restaurant to investigate.

I overheard a customer exclaiming loudly to his table.

"Wow! This is incredible!"

"This is honestly the best meal I have ever had in my entire life! Just amazing!"

"This is what real food tastes like! I highly recommend this place! The Kitchen Queen does not disappoint!"

I glanced at the dishes they were praising a watery-looking fish stew that smelled suspiciously like a pre-packaged soup base, some greasy-looking beef, and what appeared to be store-bought dinner rolls.

I took a deep breath.

These weren't customers.

They were paid actors, and they weren't even good ones.

04

"What are you doing over here? Thinking of asking for an apprenticeship? I'm afraid it's a bit too late for that!"

Cassandra spotted me, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

She flashed a brilliant smile, her eyes glinting with triumph.

"You know, having no customers is probably a blessing in disguise for you guys," she said, her tone light and playful. "You don't even have a real chef. What would you do if people actually ordered food? Let them starve? You're going to lose, you know!"

Her fans in the live stream chat echoed her sentiments.

`[cassiefan01] Penelope is so out of her league. Why is she even on this show?`

`[truthspeaker] She's here to embarrass herself, obviously. The contrast makes our Cassie shine even brighter!`

`[kitchenqueenstan] As if! In the entire entertainment industry, no one can touch Cassandra when it comes to cooking.`

It was already lunchtime, and our restaurant's revenue was less than half of Cassandra's.

Just then, the assistant director brought over a "Special Challenge" card.

A large screen would display the name of a mystery celebrity guest, chosen at random, who would call in to place an order. Their bill would be added to the daily revenue.

The assistant director caught Cassandra's eye again before selecting the first guest: the renowned actress, Julia Weaver.

Before even placing her order, Julia launched into a gushing monologue about Cassandra.

"Cassie, darling, I saw your cooking video last night! I told myself, 'One day, I simply must have a meal cooked by that talented woman,' and look! My wish came true so quickly!"

"That Julian Archer is a lucky, lucky man to have you."

Julia's fawning praise made Cassandra practically float off the ground.

She gave a bashful smile.

"Oh, stop! I'm just happy as long as everyone enjoys the food. Especially for someone with& specific dietary needs. I learned to cook just for him, you know!"

The live stream chat took this as direct confirmation from the source. They were ecstatic. The virtual ship had officially sailed.

The internet began praising Cassandra for being such a beautiful, kind-hearted person.

`[shipper4life] What a sweet and gentle wife! Her husband likes something, so she learns to make it. A true domestic goddess!`

`[omglove] I'm obsessed! Penelope must be dying of jealousy right now. Just wait until the director picks Julian Archer to call in. Cassie's win will be epic!`

`[bestchef] She's an amazing cook! Even an Oscar winner is raving about her!`

After Julia Weaver placed her order, the host, Tara, spun a digital wheel for the second mystery guest.

She hit the button, and the wheel slowed, the pointer landing directly on: **Julian Archer**.

Cassandra's cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She glanced at the camera with a coy, knowing look.

"Oh, you guys are doing this on purpose, aren't you?" she giggled. "Julian is so busy with his business trip."

Cassandra's revenue was already soaring. Two high-profile celebrity orders would guarantee her an insurmountable lead.

Knowing it was Julian on the line, Tara immediately began recommending the three signature dishes from Cassandra's restaurant all of them spicy, complex Southern classics.

At first, the viewers thought it might be a prank, an impersonator.

But then, his voice came through the speakers, cool and unmistakable.

It was really him.

He sounded like he was at an airport; the faint announcement for a departing flight could be heard in the background.

There was a long pause from Julian's end.

Then, he delivered a single, ice-cold sentence.

"I'm sorry. I have a severe, life-threatening nut allergy. And besides that, I never eat Southern food."

The words dropped like a bomb.

The live stream chat went into overdrive.

And the blush on Cassandra's face instantly drained away, leaving behind a pallor of pure, horrified white.

05

The silence on set was deafening.

The atmosphere crackled with an awkward tension you could cut with a knife.

Cassandra's expression froze for a fraction of a second.

But before the cameras could zoom in on her panic, she recovered, her face breaking into a mask of breezy confidence.

She let out a delighted gasp, her voice filled with manufactured surprise.

"Wow! I think I hear Julian's voice!"

She pressed a hand to her cheek, feigning a girlish, bashful excitement.

"Of course I know my man's tastes. Please don't worry, sir. I will be sure to meet all of your needs."

The voice on the other end of the line was glacial.

"Is that so? Because besides my wife, no one's cooking is good enough for me to eat."

The connection was poor, Julian's voice cutting in and out.

But his dedicated online fanbase was already auto-translating for the confused viewers in the chat.

`[archerstan] A true power couple! The moment Julian spoke, Cassie knew it was him!`

`[interpreter] Julian just said he only wants to eat his wife's food! That no one else's cooking will do!`

`[loveisreal] I love this kind of blatant favoritism! The Kitchen Queen deserves to be cherished by a man like Julian Archer. I'm dying, this is too romantic!`

The moment the call ended, Cassandra was beaming with pride.

She shyly covered her flushed cheeks with her hands.

Tara, ever the pot-stirrer, fanned the flames.

"How sweet! Julian Archer almost never makes public appearances. For him to personally call in to a show like this& it just proves how much he adores you, Cassandra."

Cassandra just smiled, a silent, smug affirmation.

With the backing of an Oscar winner and the "confirmation" from Julian himself, Cassandra's revenue skyrocketed.

Fans from nearby neighborhoods flocked to the studio to support her.

After Cassandra's team completed their challenge, the "Special Challenge" card was handed to me.

The rules were the same.

Spin the wheel, take an order from a mystery guest.

The wheel spun, and my pick was& an internal staff member.

A young woman with a production assistant's badge walked into our empty restaurant. I discreetly glanced at her name tag.

Her name was Ashley.

Ashley spent an eternity staring at the menu, her indecision painfully obvious.

I decided to help her along.

"May I recommend our signature dishes? The spicy jambalaya is very popular, and the corn and pork rib soup is excellent."

Ashley nodded enthusiastically.

I took my place as head chef, with Liam and Sophie as my capable assistants.

Working in perfect sync, we had the dishes out in record time.

As Ashley lifted the first spoonful of soup to her lips, the three of us held our breath, watching her with hopeful anticipation.

But before the spoon even reached her mouth, she spit it out dramatically.

"Ptooey! Ptooey!"

Ashley gagged, her face contorted in a mask of undisguised disgust.

"Why is this pork rib soup& sweet?!"

06

Cassandra, who had been conveniently watching from her doorway, seized the opportunity.

She sauntered over, a look of faux concern on her face.

"Oh, Penelope, dear," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "You didn't mix up the sugar and the salt, did you?"

She let out a tinkling laugh.

"If you're really this lost in the kitchen, I can always help you, you know."

Impossible.

If I couldn't tell the difference between sugar and salt, I had no business being in a kitchen.

I grabbed a clean spoon and tasted the soup.

The flavor was perfect. Rich, savory, with the natural sweetness of the corn perfectly balanced with the pork.

Just as I was about to question it, I saw a flicker of panic in Ashley's eyes.

Then I glanced across the courtyard at Cassandra.

She was smiling, a wide, triumphant, predatory grin.

I understood instantly.

This was Cassandra's doing.

Ashley took a bite of the jambalaya and immediately threw her fork down on the table.

"Ugh, disgusting! Is this supposed to be for human consumption? The shrimp smells rotten."

"If you were trying to serve me spoiled seafood, you should have just said so! But this is supposed to be your signature dish!"

With that, Ashley stood up and stormed out.

I reached out and grabbed her arm.

She froze, her body stiffening. But she quickly regained her composure, her voice loud and indignant.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

I had no concrete proof.

Not yet.

I looked past her, towards the director's tent. He was watching the whole thing unfold with a small, amused smile, like he was enjoying a particularly good play.

That's when I knew.

This entire show was a rigged game.

The "random" draws were fixed.

Even the staff were actors, given a script to help Cassandra's performance.

Before I could speak, Cassandra was at my side, playing the part of the concerned friend.

"Oh, Penelope, don't worry about it so much."

"If you're short on revenue, I can share some of mine. We're all sisters here, right?"

She was practically glowing with happiness. She was clearly enjoying watching me squirm.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm.

"That won't be necessary. I'll just find a customer from the neighborhood. A free tasting to clear my name."

My first priority was to salvage my reputation.

You can question my acting, my looks, my personality.

But you do not question my cooking.

The live stream chat, however, was merciless.

`[user123] What is Penelope's problem? Cassie offers to help her and she doesn't even say thank you? So cold.`

`[getreal] If you don't have the skills, don't pretend you do. Being exposed by a staff member is just pathetic.`

`[pennyhater] What a joke. This pampered princess is nothing compared to our Kitchen Queen.`

The internet was crucifying me.

And now, no one from the local audience was willing to even step inside my restaurant.

Even for free, they preferred to spend their money at Cassandra's place.

By the end of the day, after factoring in the cost of ingredients and utilities, our restaurant's revenue was in the negative.

Cassandra's, meanwhile, had surpassed eight thousand dollars.

That included, of course, a hefty "tip" from the actress Julia Weaver.

After her decisive victory, Cassandra approached me, her face a mask of smug superiority.

"When it comes to cooking, Penelope, I'm the professional."

"If there's anything you don't understand, feel free to ask me for advice. But please, try not to mix up the sugar and the salt again."

She poured me a glass of juice, her smile never wavering.

"Julian is coming to the set in a couple of days."

"Everyone knows he's a notorious gourmand, with incredibly high standards for food."

"And I'm the only one who can meet those standards."

I gave her a long, meaningful look and let out a small, humorless laugh.

"Julian is a very difficult man to please. Are you sure you can handle that?"

"I'd be more worried that he might not even be willing to take a single bite."

Her expression flickered.

Tara quickly jumped to her defense.

"Cassie is beautiful and kind. Julian is coming here for her. If he doesn't eat her food, whose food is he going to eat?"

Tara's gaze shifted to me, her eyes filled with a potent mix of defiance, contempt, and utter mockery.

"Yours?"

The whole group erupted in laughter.

It was a loud, unrestrained, cruel sound that echoed across the quiet set.

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