Chapter 1

In the kitchen behind the Lucky Grill, the boss told me to reheat yesterday's leftover house special sauce and stir it into the fresh braised pork we were cooking today.

I looked at the pan of sauce, already giving off a sour smell, and my stomach turned.

In my last life, I was young and didn't know any better, so I just did it.

That same night, more than fifty customers were rushed to the hospital with acute food poisoning, and three children didn't make it.

The food safety bureau got involved, and the boss shoved me out front to take the fall. He said I was just a part-timer who didn't know the rules, that I'd secretly used expired ingredients to cut corners.

I got a heavy sentence. My whole life was destroyed.

The parents who'd lost their children came to our door and stabbed my mother to death, the only family I had.

In my despair, I chose to end it all with a single jump.

When I opened my eyes again, I was still in that stuffy, greasy kitchen.

The fat-bellied boss shoved the filthy ladle into my hand and snapped at me.

"Rosie, what are you standing there for? Hurry up and stir it in, don't keep the customers waiting!"

I took a deep breath and took the ladle.

Then I turned around, and in front of every busy prep worker and cook in the room, I hurled the whole pan of house special sauce straight at him.

Grease splattered across his face, and the entire kitchen went silent in an instant.

I looked at his shocked, furious face, and I smiled.

"A job that important? I couldn't possibly do it."

"You're the boss. You should do it yourself, of course."

...

"You still want to keep working here or not?"

The boss wiped his face, eyes blazing.

Grease dripped off his thick chin.

The dozen or so workers in the kitchen had all frozen.

The clatter of spatulas, the sound of chopping, all of it stopped, leaving only the exhaust fan whirring away.

"Rosie, are you fucking tired of living?"

The boss lunged forward, his bulk blocking me, one meaty palm already raised to swing at my face.

"Do you have any idea how much spice it takes to mix that pan of sauce, how much money it costs? That's my family's special recipe! You broke it, and even selling yourself wouldn't cover the loss!"

I turned my head aside to dodge, gripping the empty stainless-steel pan in my hands, my fingertips trembling.

In my last life, because I was only a part-timer and desperately needed this job to scrape together tuition and my mother's medicine, I took the ladle like a coward and stirred that pan of sour, rancid sauce into the fresh dishes, spoonful by spoonful.

That night, the Lucky Grill was packed.

By the small hours, the news had spread. More than fifty customers were vomiting and had diarrhea, and three children never woke up.

The parents knelt in the hospital hallway crying until they fainted, while the boss pressed my head down and pushed me in front of the reporters.

Pointing at edited security footage, he made his case without a flicker of shame.

"It was her! The one mainly responsible for all this! We've got the footage to prove it! But she's just a part-timer here, doesn't know the rules, secretly used expired ingredients. We're victims too, and we've already fired her."

"I'll do everything I can to comfort the families, and we'll make sure the compensation is handled properly. Please keep trusting the Lucky Grill."

He wore an honest, simple smile, and in front of the cameras he wiped his hands clean of the whole thing.

The day the verdict came down, my mother came to see me.

She was thin as paper, but she still forced a smile at me through the glass, crying and telling me over and over.

"Sweetheart, don't be afraid. Mommy will always be waiting for you to come home."

But the next word I got of her came from a prison guard.

She'd been stabbed seventeen times by a victim's family who'd lost their heads in rage, and she fell right at the door of the little apartment we rented.

Her blood trickled out and stained the whole stairwell red.

They said... that right up to her last breath, she was calling my name.

And I was locked away, unable even to see her one last time.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that stuffy, greasy kitchen.

My apron wasn't even tied yet, and the boss's dirty ladle was already back in my hand.

"Rosie? Rosemary Lawrence! I'm talking to you! Are you deaf?"