Chapter 1

For three years, I lived under my aunt and uncle's roof.

Every single meal, my aunt would serve me shrimp. "Eat up," she'd insist. "It's good for your health."

I've always hated the fishy smell. Every time, I'd wait until she looked away, then slip my entire portion to the stray cat in the yard.

After three years, that cat was huge and healthy.

Then came my company physical. The doctor looked at my chart, shocked.

"You're only 23, but your liver function is incredible, like a professional athlete's. How have you been taking care of yourself?"

I sat there, frozen.

Walking home, I suddenly remembered my aunt's words.

*****

The medical report was crumpled in my fist. A single, flimsy sheet of paper, yet it felt like lead in my hand.

The doctor's incredulous voice still buzzed in my ears.

My liver functions like an athlete's?

How was that even possible?

I was an orphan who had survived on my uncle's family's charity, whose only real exercise was the walk from my bedroom to the dinner table.

"Taking care of myself" was a joke. I couldn't even afford decent skincare.

A hot, late-summer breeze blew past, but a chill ran down my spine.

Pushing the front door open, I was met by the familiar greasy smell of cooking.

My aunt, Delilah Walsh, was coming out of the kitchen with a dish in hand. Her sharp, scrutinizing eyes landed on me instantly.

"Any luck with the job hunt? Wandering around all day. People will think we're rich enough to keep a freeloader," she said.

Her voice was low but carried, each word hitting me.

I looked down, murmuring, "I found one. I start Monday."

"Found one?" Delilah paused, then slammed the dish onto the table with a clatter. "About time you spoke up. All those years eating our food, finally making yourself useful."

My grip tightened on the report, nails digging into my palm.

My uncle, Colton, walked out of his room, trying to smooth things over. "Come on now, Delilah. It's great news that Caroline found a job. Let's eat. Wash up, dear."

Dinner was its usual suffocating affair.

Delilah brought out another dish, the ever-present steamed river shrimp.

She pushed the plate toward me, her tone flat. "Eat up. Good for your health."

There it was again.

That same phrase, almost daily for three years.

I stared at the tiny, curled-up bodies glistening pink on the plate. My stomach turned.

I'd always hated that pungent, fishy smell; it seemed to seep into my bones, making my skin crawl.

My cousin, Aaron, plopped down, immediately spearing the last piece of Fried Wings.

Chewing loudly, he shot me a sideways glance. "Lucky you, getting your special shrimp every night. Some of us have to make do with just wings."

His sneering tone made the knot in my chest tighten.

In this house, I was a stranger. A burden living off their scraps.

Delilah gave him a warning look but didn't scold him. She just nudged me. "Stop staring. Eat. They get fishy when they're cold."

I picked up my fork and slowly took a shrimp.

The pungent, fishy smell seemed to climb into my nose. My throat tightened.

Normally, I'd wait until Delilah wasn't looking and toss the shrimp into the trash. Or I'd sneak them to that stray tabby cat in the corner of the yard.

But today, the doctor's words were stuck on a loop in my head.

Liver function... athlete... upkeep...

The shrimp were good for my health.

Could there be a connection? Something I didn't know?

For the first time, I didn't immediately think about how to get rid of this daily torture.

My eyes were fixed on the plate. The shells had an odd, almost translucent sheen. The flesh looked plumper, different from the ordinary river shrimp I sometimes saw at the market.

Gathering my nerve, I ventured a quiet question. "Delilah... where do you buy these shrimp? They look... different."

She was busy picking bones out of a fish for Aaron and didn't even look up. "Why do you care? Just eat. Can't even do that without talking."

Her sharp reply shut down any further questions.

A hot spike of anger flared in my chest, but I choked it back down.

I couldn't. I didn't have the right.