Chapter 1

In my eighteenth year at the orphanage, the director told me my biological parents had come looking for me and wanted to take me home.

Full of anticipation, I rose up on my toes and looked out past the front gate.

It was empty. No one was there.

Director Harmon saw my embarrassment, cleared his throat lightly, and comforted me:

"Don't read too much into it. Your parents are both busy with work, and the orphanage is too far out of the way for them to come pick you up in person, but in their hearts they're surely looking forward to having you home."

"This is the address your parents sent me. I'm covering the travel costs myself, and I've already bought the ticket. Pack your things and set off as soon as you can. Don't keep them waiting."

"Oh, and remember to tell them you haven't been feeling well. Once you're home, there'll be money to treat it."

Tears spilled from my eyes, and I took a step back.

I bowed deeply to him to show my gratitude.

After eighteen hours of travel, I stood downstairs clutching my diagnosis report.

I thought I had finally found a harbor to call home.

But at that moment I still didn't know.

The gifts fate hands out have their price marked in secret all along.

1

I rode the elevator up and found the door by its number.

The door wasn't shut all the way.

The director had probably told them I'd arrive around this time.

I gently pushed the door open. Several pairs of men's sneakers were piled up in the entryway, all of them looking expensive.

The living room air conditioning was cranked up high.

The moment I stepped inside with my cloth bag, I heard the clatter of a keyboard.

My twin brother, Ralph, was curled up on the sofa playing a video game.

His feet were propped up on the coffee table, swinging back and forth, with a plate of sliced fruit and an ice-cold Coke beside him.

Mom was crouched next to him massaging his legs, and Dad was holding up a fan to cool him off.

Both of them had smiles on their faces, and neither looked up when they heard me come in.

"Ralphie, aren't you tired? You've been playing all morning. Why not take a break?"

"I'm not tired. Mom, don't touch me, we're in the middle of a team fight!"

"Okay, okay, Mom won't touch you. Are you hungry? I'll braise some of those pork ribs you love in a little while."

I stood in the entryway for nearly five minutes, my palm sweating against the cloth bag.

Dad finally caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye.

His smile vanished at once, and his brow furrowed.

"What are you standing there for? Come in. Waiting for someone to invite you?"

I hurried inside and had just opened my mouth to call out to my parents.

Mom straightened up and jerked her chin at me:

"The kitchen's piled with dishes that haven't been washed all morning, and the floor's filthy too. Go clean it up."

"Oh, and we're braising Ralphie's favorite pork ribs for lunch, so go trim the vegetables."

"Do you know how to braise ribs? If not, learn. I'll show you the basics in a bit."

I froze for a moment.

I had just arrived today.

They hadn't even asked if I was tired from the trip.

They didn't care how I'd been all these years at the orphanage.

The orphanage had poor conditions, and I'd been malnourished since childhood. Last month I was diagnosed with a heart problem.

The doctor said it had to be treated as soon as possible, or something could go wrong at any time.

Maybe it was just because we'd only just met and I wasn't familiar with them yet.

I clutched the crumpled diagnosis report in my hand and swallowed all that hurt back down.

I tucked the report into my bag, nodded with a small hum, then turned and went into the kitchen.

The kitchen sink was piled full.

Grease had congealed on the rims of the bowls, and there was a sour, rancid smell.

Dirty water pooled on the floor, and vegetable scraps had been tossed everywhere.

I rolled up my sleeves and started washing the dishes.

Because the air conditioning was set so low, the water was bitterly cold.

I'd barely washed two before my chest started to feel tight.

I braced myself against the sink and caught a couple of breaths.

I told myself to hold on a little longer, not to upset them right after coming home.

Mom pushed aside the door curtain and came in. Seeing me standing there holding onto the sink, her face fell instantly:

"What are you dawdling for? How long can it take to wash a few dishes?"

"What? I ask you to do a little work and you already don't want to move? I always said the kids left behind in the orphanage are lazy. If they were more diligent, someone would've adopted them long ago. Guess I was right."

"No, Mom, I'm—"