How Accurate Are The Nutrition Facts In The Book The China Study?

The Billionaire’s Sex Diet Obsession “He doesn’t believe in love. He only believes in sex—and now, she’s the one he can’t resist.” Alexander Voss is ruthless, rich, and dangerously irresistible. To the world, he is the untouchable billionaire CEO of Voss Enterprises. Cold. Calculated. Untamed. But behind his sharp suits and piercing eyes lurks a darker hunger. For Alexander, sex isn’t romance—it’s survival. His life is ruled by a strict diet of desire: no strings, no emotions, only raw, addictive pleasure. Then comes Elena Hayes. She’s young, broke, and drowning in desperation. With her mother in the final stages of cancer and hospital bills threatening to destroy her, Elena believes landing an internship at Voss Enterprises will be her salvation. Instead, it throws her into the path of a man whose obsessions are as dangerous as his power. One late-night encounter sparks the unthinkable. One dangerous proposition changes her life. One contract binds her innocence to his darkest cravings. He offers her money. She offers her body. Neither expects obsession to take root. But the more he tastes, the more he craves. Alexander—who once controlled everything—finds his carefully measured “sex diet” spiraling out of control. Because one taste of Elena was never enough. Now, she is more than temptation. She is the addiction he cannot escape. And as desire turns into dangerous obsession, Elena realizes it won’t just be her body at risk… it will be her heart.

A parent in my son's preschool group chat tagged me out of nowhere. "Theo's dad, your son's lunches always look pretty nice. Starting tomorrow, pack one for my daughter too." "I'm not asking for free food. I'll give you ten dollars a day. That adds up. You can make a little extra on the side." I stared at the message, almost laughing from how absurd it was. My son has severe food sensitivities and a fragile stomach. Every ingredient in his meals is specially sourced, and a single lunch costs far more than five hundred dollars to prepare. And this man thought ten dollars could buy it? I replied with two words: "Not happening." The next day, my son came home crying. His lunch had been taken by another child, and the teacher had scolded him for being selfish. Fine. Since they wanted to push this far, I would show them exactly how far I could go.

My older sister Jenny and I both gained weight easily, so our mother made the decision that we could eat nothing but the diet meals she made. I followed her rules as best I could. I did not even dare drink an extra drop of water. But when I stepped on the scale a month later, I weighed three hundred pounds. I rushed into Jenny's room and found her in a tight dress posing in front of the mirror. She smiled at me. "Shannon, does this dress look good on me?" Then, I saw the number on her scale. I could hardly believe it. She was down to ninety pounds. I suspected something was wrong with Mom's diet meals, so I watched everything she did, from buying groceries to cooking. As soon as my meal was ready, I carried it straight to my room so that no one could do anything with it. Another month passed, and my weight climbed to five hundred pounds. Stretch marks covered my body, and my blood pressure reached two hundred. I lost my job because of my weight, my boyfriend dumped me without warning, and my health problems tortured me. I fell into deep despair. I refused to eat Mom's meals anymore and demanded that they take me to the hospital for gastric sleeve surgery. By then, I weighed eight hundred pounds. I had severe hypertension, high blood sugar, high cholesterol, and advanced heart failure. On the second day after the surgery, I died at home from a severe infection. When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to the day Mom first started making our meals…

I had gained thirty pounds after I was pregnant for six months. My husband, Jordan Smith felt disgusted by me. He would rather stay at work than come home, and he fell in love with his girl best friend, Holly Brown. On our wedding anniversary, they were acting intimately in a private room. Meanwhile, Holly was wearing my wedding gown. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes. She had her arms around Jordan’s neck and said to me coyly, “It’s not what you think.” Jordan was agitated after he was caught cheating on me. “I’ve known her since we were kids. We have been best friends for so many years. If something were to happen between us, it would have happened a long time ago.” However, I saw the hickey on Holly’s shoulder. She said to Jordan, “Your wife looks obese. My cousin didn’t gain a single pound after she had given birth. Instead, she looked even slimmer. Jordan, did your wife secretly eat pig feed?” Jordan felt embarrassed. He instructed someone to lock me in a bedroom and starve me for a few days. I suffered from a miscarriage. Indeed, I lost the weight on my abdomen, but Jordan went insane.

Even though I knew cows were sacred to the Indorians, I still supported their biological daughter in her plan to serve beef at the dinner table of Indoria's wealthiest man. In my previous life, the wealthiest man in Indoria had held a nationwide contest to choose a wife. My sister had fought her way to the final round and planned to make a beef and veggie stew for the ultimate cooking challenge. I rushed to stop her, warning that in Indoria's religion, cows were considered holy, and eating beef could have serious legal consequences. However, my sister thought I was deliberately humiliating her for being "uncultured." In a fit of anger, she ran out, only to be struck and killed by a car. My adoptive parents tried to console me, telling me it was not my fault, that it was simply bad luck. Later, thanks to my exceptional cooking skills, I became the wife of Indoria's wealthiest man. Yet on the very day of my wedding, my adoptive parents sold me to the slums. That night, as eight men assaulted me one after another, I cried and demanded to know why. They kicked me viciously and spat: "If you hadn't made things difficult for Janet, she wouldn't have died. You owe her this!" By the end of that night, I had bled to death. Meanwhile, my adoptive parents used the money given by Indoria's wealthiest man to build a lavish tomb for their biological daughter. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my sister was about to serve her beef and veggie stew to Indoria's wealthiest man.

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.