Burying the Rose Deeply

Three years ago, I was a rising star in the design world.

But during a site inspection for the construction site of my wedding house, I was murdered by my fiancé's childhood friend.

She smashed my face with rebar and sealed my pregnant body inside a concrete pillar. Then, she falsely accused me of embezzling a large sum from the company and fled the country.

Max Read even gave false testimony, turning me into a disgrace in the design community.

Three years later, someone discovered my buried remains. When my skeleton was sent for examination, my spirit followed along.

My face and shin bones were crushed beyond recognition, revealing the immense suffering I endured before my death.

Max Read, now in protective gear, entered the room.

An assistant had already done a preliminary inspection and began reporting.

"Female, skeletal age around 27, identity unknown. The face and legs are smashed, indicating the perpetrator didn't want the victim to escape or have her identity discovered."

The assistant hesitated before adding, "Max, this was dug up from your former wedding house."

Max's hands paused as he examined the remains.

My spirit, desperate, hoped he would realize these bones belonged to his former fiancée.

But sadly, he didn't notice.

Soon, his focus returned to the task at hand, his expression impassive.

The villa was located in the suburbs and had fallen into disrepair over the years.

My bones had been trapped inside, waiting alone for this day of discovery.

And now, unexpectedly, Max was the one examining them.

After closely inspecting the remains, Max stated, "The shin bones suffered five to ten heavy impacts, causing comminuted fractures.

"The skull has a depression—this must have been the fatal blow.

"After death, the face bones were crushed in a vengeful act, and the body was pushed into a concrete pillar, with rebar piercing through the entire abdomen and chest."

Even Max, with ten years of experience in forensic examination, frowned at this.

The assistant, standing nearby, spoke with a grave tone.

"What kind of grudge must someone have to commit such brutal violence against an unarmed woman?

"This is pure cruelty. It's unimaginable how desperate the victim must have felt."

The assistant shook his head, clicking his tongue in disbelief.

Max's phone rang at that moment, and he answered immediately upon seeing the caller ID.

"Rebecca, you're awake?

"There's breakfast on the table for you. Make sure to eat well for the baby's sake."

As Max spoke, his cold demeanor softened, replaced by tenderness.

Even the assistant couldn't resist teasing.

"Wow, Max, you're really devoted to your wife! Preparing breakfast yourself!"

I stood there, stunned.

Just three years had passed, and Max and Rebecca now had a child together.

One was my former fiancé, the other my murderer.

It was all so absurd.

Max ended the call with a smile and turned his attention back to the bones.

He carefully picked up a tiny bone from along my spine with tweezers.

His stern face showed a trace of sadness as he concluded.

"She was pregnant at the time of her death, with the fetus around three months old.

"It looks like the fetus was… surgically removed before being buried in the concrete pillar with her."

Yes, that was our child.