Chapter 3
The smartphone vibrated frantically against the quartz kitchen counter.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Chloe's contact photo flashed repeatedly beside a heavy stainless-steel cleaver.
Brenda wiped her fish-stained hands on her apron and tapped the speaker button with an annoyed sigh.
"What do you want, Chloe? I'm in the middle of cooking dinner."
"Mom!" Chloe's voice came through in a shrill, breathless sob. "Did you take a package from the porch today?! Tell me the truth!"
Brenda's face darkened. Her eyes darted defensively toward the open cooler.
"Watch your mouth! You think your own mother is a thief?"
"Mom, stop lying!" Chloe screamed, hyperventilating.
"Elena Grant just posted the official customs papers in the HOA chat! That fish contains wild tetrodotoxin! It paralyzes your lungs! If someone eats it, he will die! Swear to me you didn't touch it!"
Brenda let out a loud, mocking snort.
"What do you young people know about cooking? I've been gutting fish for thirty years! Before that woman was even born, I was making seafood stews!"
Brenda leaned over the counter, her voice dripping with spite.
"She's just furious because she lost a luxury fish. She forged fake medical records to scare people into believing her story."
"Mom! You have to promise..."
Click.
Brenda slammed her thumb onto the red button, cutting her daughter off mid-sentence.
"Ungrateful brat," Brenda muttered. "Always siding with outsiders."
She picked up the heavy cleaver and sliced straight through the blowfish's belly.
Inside lay a massive, creamy-yellow organ -- the liver.
Brenda poked the soft, rich organ with the tip of her knife.
"Throw this away?" she scoffed, her eyes gleaming with greedy satisfaction. "Look at all that fat! The liver is where all the flavor lives. These wasteful rich brats know nothing."
Without cleaning the entrails, Brenda chopped the entire liver, the spiky skin, and the internal organs into thick chunks.
She dumped everything into a large pot of boiling broth on the stove.
Sizzle!
A thick cloud of aromatic steam billowed upward. Within moments, the broth turned into a rich, velvety, milky-white soup. It smelled intoxicatingly delicious.
Brenda placed the heavy glass lid over the bubbling pot, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.
"Tonight, Harold gets a five-star meal. That little snob next door can cry all night."
Right as the words left her lips, the hallway outside went dead silent.
Then, three heavy, deliberate knocks shattered the quiet.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound vibrated through the steel door with chilling authority.
Brenda froze, the soup ladle trembling in her hand.