My husband, Joaquin Landon, is a renowned wax sculptor. He hangs up on me when I call him to save my life so he can focus on the wax sculpture his cousin wants.

Amphetamine is injected into my system, so my mind is clear as I watch my nails get removed one by one. Every inch of my skin is covered in burning hot wax.

My hair and lashes are plucked off, and my organs are ground. Steel pipes are inserted into my legs, and I'm turned into a wax sculpture.

Joaquin sees me during an exhibition. His colleague tells him that the wax sculpture he sees looks eerily like me, but he merely looks disgusted. "All she does is cause trouble and act unreasonably. She's better off dead."

What he doesn't know is that I already am. Joaquin doesn't recognize that I'm the wax sculpture before him.

Joaquin Landon was a widely renowned expert in wax sculpting. To prepare for a competition, he visited exhibitions for inspiration.

A female wax figure in a corner caught his attention. It looked so lifelike—almost as if it were truly alive. Under the smooth surface of the wax, faint bluish-purple veins showed through, and subtle fingerprints were even visible on the figure.

This startled Joaquin, who took two steps back immediately.

He noticed an unsettling familiarity in the wax figure's chestnut eyes. He immediately pulled out his phone and dialed the phone number of his cousin, Giselle Landon.

The monotonous dial tone looped for a long time before she finally answered. Joaquin breathed a sigh of relief. Still, the urgency in his voice was evident. "Gigi, where are you?"

"What's wrong, Joaquin? Did something happen?"

"No, it's nothing serious... I just wanted to confirm something."

"Oh, you missed me..." Giselle trailed off the last word playfully, like she was acting cute.

Joaquin quickly said he had something to take care of and hung up. Then, he called the police immediately.

The police sealed off the scene and called in Joaquin's colleague to help with the identification. Upon seeing the wax figure, the colleague asked Joaquin if he had called to check if I was safe right away.

Joaquin replied with a look of disdain. "She's always finding fault with me and Gigi and causing trouble. It's better off if she's gone."

I hovered above, reaching out to touch the place where my heart used to be. Though it had been removed, it still hurt.

"As you wished, I'll never bother you again, Joaquin. I'm already dead," I thought melancholically.

Hot wax was poured over me when I was still alive. The scalding wax fused into my skin, seeping into every pore. When they peeled the wax off, my skin came off with it. Large patches of skin fell away, exposing raw muscle and bone.

The scene was so horrific that even the seasoned forensic pathologist couldn't help but turn away.

Joaquin offered to help. Holding a scalpel in one hand and tweezers in the other, he carefully removed the wax from my skin, inch by inch. He did it meticulously, as if he were performing surgery.

If he knew the body on the autopsy table was mine, would he still be so cautious?

The forensic team tried to collect hair samples for DNA testing, but my hair had been plucked out strand by strand. They then attempted to gather tissue from under my nails, hoping to find the perpetrator's DNA.

However, during my murder, every one of my nails was forcibly pulled out with pliers to remove any trace of evidence. Even my eyelashes were also plucked and reattached one by one. My internal organs were shredded using metal hooks inserted through my mouth.

With no other options, the police brought in a forensic specialist, Carter Dodson, to uncover my identity through iris recognition.

I used to be Carter's assistant.

At the sight of the wax figure, he immediately threw up. Even after steadying himself, he couldn't stop retching—Carter recognized those chestnut eyes.

"These eyes resemble Serena's. I haven't seen her in days. Did you try calling her, Joaquin?" Carter said.

Holding back his disdain, Joaquin shook his head and replied, "She threw a big fit, complaining about how I didn't take her to the beach a while back. She's probably out there enjoying the sea breeze now."

"Really? Why didn't Serena apply for leave if she's traveling? She'd never miss work for no reason," Carter remarked with a frown.

He reminded Joaquin to call me later to confirm my safety once they left the autopsy room. "Serena seemed so uneasy at work lately, but she wouldn't tell me why."

Joaquin cut him off with a derisive sneer. "That's just how she is. She's always paranoid and thinks that something is going on between me and my cousin. But she's the one with issues."

After Carter was done collecting the data, he left with Joaquin. They overheard the forensic pathologist tell a detective that the right foot of the female corpse was missing a small piece of bone.

"It's not a fresh injury. I'm pretty sure it's an old fracture."

Joaquin paused upon hearing that. Years ago, we went skiing together, and I injured my foot. After it healed, we found that a tiny bone the size of a wheat grain was no longer there.

Joaquin hesitated for a while before pulling out his phone. He was just about to call my number when Giselle's call came in.

"Joaquin, I bought tickets! Didn't Serena keep asking you to take her to the beach? Since it's the Independence Day holiday, let's all go together. Oh yeah! We should take Uncle Wayne and Aunt Bethany too. That way, they'll get to relax for a bit," Giselle chirped.

Joaquin's expression soured instantly. "Why take that troublemaker? Hasn't she caused enough problems? Just seeing her annoys me. I wish she was dead."

"But I already bought the tickets… Joaquin, you know how rare it is for us to get a break in this line of work." Giselle's voice took on a tearful tone.

"I'll go with you," Joaquin replied.

Giselle cheered immediately over the phone. She excitedly listed off all the seafood she wanted to try.

Joaquin listened with a smile and said indulgently, "Alright, alright, we'll try everything."

A month ago, I said the same thing to him. My birthday was approaching, so I begged him to take me—someone who grew up inland—to see the ocean and to taste the seafood I only ever saw in documentaries.

Joaquin told me that Giselle's cat was about to give birth, so he couldn't leave.

"Is her cat giving birth more important than my birthday?" I asked incredulously.

Joaquin nodded solemnly and said, "I promised Gigi."

He forgot he also promised me. Every year, he would ask me what I wanted on my birthday, and I would always say I wanted to see the ocean. Each time, he would tell me he would definitely take me there next year.

Yet, even until the day I died, he never once took me to the beach.

I sat in the waiting hall, watching him and Giselle as they waited to board across from me.

Giselle looked at him innocently and asked, "Joaquin, I heard the wax sculpting competition was postponed. Why is that?"

There was a hint of hesitation in Joaquin's eyes. Perhaps he was afraid Giselle would be upset after hearing the gory details about the dead body in the wax figure.

He forgot that Giselle was a surgeon—she saw all kinds of bloody scenes.

She once excitedly described how she accidentally nicked a patient's artery during surgery. She chatted animatedly about how it sent blood spurting over three feet high while squeezing ketchup onto her fries.

"Joaquin, are you hiding something from me?" Giselle leaned in close, her hand resting on his. She looked at him innocently as she said in a low voice, "I never told anyone about 'that,' you know."

A flash of terror crossed Joaquin's face, and he told her about the wax figure.

She patted his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry. Serena is definitely at the beach right now. We'll go surprise her together."

"I'm not worried about Serena," he blurted out. "I'd rather never see her again."

Giselle tried to conceal the glee that threatened to burst forth in her bright eyes. Instead, she put on an expression of guilt and regret. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have insisted on modeling for you…"

Joaquin responded, "What does that have to do with you? She's the one being unreasonable. She's been my wax figure model for so many years. Isn't she sick of it yet?"

If I could, I would have laughed out loud.

Back when he was poor and couldn't afford to hire models, I had to stand in for him. Later, when he became more famous, he made me a wax figure as my birthday gift. After all, that wouldn't cost him anything.

Every year, I received more or less the same birthday gifts. I'd long grown tired of it, but I never said anything for fear that it might affect our relationship.

Giselle took out her phone, saying she wanted to call and apologize to me. She waited for a long time for me to pick up, but no one answered.

Giselle then lowered her gaze, her voice full of remorse. "Serena must still be angry with me."

Joaquin snatched the phone from her and pressed the red button. "What right does she have to be mad at you? She might as well die for all I care."

Too bad he didn't know that I was already dead.

The boarding announcement came over the speakers. Just as Joaquin stood up, his phone rang. It was his mother, Bethany Ziegler, calling.

"Serena hasn't visited me in days. Are you two together? Did something happen?" Bethany asked anxiously over the phone.

Bethany heard Giselle urging Joaquin to board the plane. Her voice shot up an octave as she spoke furiously. "I can't believe you're with Giselle! Didn't I tell you to stop contacting her?

"And where's Serena? It's the Independence Day holiday. Instead of being with your wife, you're going on a trip with Giselle?"

When Giselle heard Bethany over the phone, she stared back at Joaquin with a pitiful expression.

Joaquin lowered his voice hastily. "So, Serena is allowed to go to the beach by herself, yet we can't do the same? Mom, I don't understand why you've disliked Giselle all these years. She's helped you—"

He cut himself off abruptly and added, "They've started boarding for our flight. I'll talk to you when I get back. Let me know if you need money."

Giselle pulled Joaquin along onto the plane. As they boarded, she grumbled about how he shouldn't have spoken to Bethany that way.

"It's normal for Aunt Bethany not to like me, considering how reckless I used to be with my words," Giselle said.

"How is that your fault? You were so young back then. How could you have lied?" Joaquin said irritably, stressing that Bethany only became like this because she listened to what I said.

Annoyed, he said, "It's all because of that troublemaker, Serena. Things would be better if she were dead."

Really? I chuckled softly. I was already dead.

Bethany endured years of domestic violence at the hands of Joaquin's father, Wayne Landon. Not only did Joaquin never criticize Wayne, but he also advised Bethany to bear it for the sake of the family.

After we got married, I witnessed one of those incidents myself, and I was absolutely shocked. I called the police and insisted they file a report. But Joaquin claimed Wayne had his reasons. He said it was a family matter and asked the officers not to interfere.

I was baffled and expressed that, no matter what, nothing justified violence. Yet, Joaquin refused to tell me Wayne's so-called reasons.

I then began working with Bethany in secret, encouraging her to leave Wayne and start a new life. Bethany cried, saying she felt misunderstood her whole life, and I was the first woman to ever suggest she get a divorce.

I brought Bethany to live with us. When Wayne found out, he showed up at our place. In the ensuing scuffle, he pushed Bethany, resulting in her hitting her head on the table.

That time, I refused to listen to Joaquin and helped Bethany file a domestic violence report with the police. Once she recovered, she filed for divorce from Wayne.

We won the case. Bethany received most of the assets and moved into a senior apartment.

Wayne, who suffered humiliation and lost most of his money, started drinking and smoking heavily. He eventually developed liver disease and ended up in the hospital.

From then on, Joaquin resented me. Every holiday, he would berate me whenever he saw other families spending quality time together happily.

He said hatefully, "If you hadn't stirred things up, our family would still be together, happy as ever."

While he and Giselle were sitting on the beach enjoying the sea breeze, an alarm went off on his phone. He glanced at it and saw it was a reminder of my birthday.

Only then did he remember today was my birthday.

"What's on your mind, Joaquin? Come and eat!" Giselle waved at him with a huge lobster in her hands and beckoned him over.

She noticed his phone screen and playfully raised her eyebrows at him. "Do you miss Serena? Should I call her so she can join us?

"I remember Aunt Bethany used to love eating shrimp the most. When the whole family used to get together, she would peel shrimp for us kids."

Joaquin's expression soured immediately. "Why did you bring her up?"

Giselle picked up her phone pretentiously. "I think it's Serena's birthday. Don't stay mad at her. Go make it up to her, Joaquin. After all, Aunt Bethany adores her."

With a harsh snap, Joaquin broke off the lobster claw and took a vicious bite. "I told you—don't mention that woman to me."

Giselle had more to say, but Joaquin's phone rang again. He assumed it was me calling and was about to hang up, but then he saw that it was Wayne's attending physician.

The doctor informed him that Wayne's condition was worsening, and they needed to do a liver transplant test to see if Joaquin's liver was compatible. "You're his son, so the chances of a match are high."

Upon hearing that, Joaquin panicked. His expression was one of horror.

Giselle immediately booked their tickets and assured him that she would help him find a suitable match. Feeling grateful, Joaquin promised to take her on another vacation as thanks.

He then deleted my birthday reminder from his phone. "That woman is nothing but a jinx. So much so that unfortunate events take place even on her birthday."

Once they arrived at the hospital, the doctor quickly pulled Joaquin aside for the liver transplant test.

He glanced nervously at Giselle, and she intervened. She said, "My cousin's health hasn't been great since childhood. Let me take him for a checkup first."

They walked into the stairwell.

"Don't worry, Joaquin. I've never told anyone about this. You don't need to do the liver match test. I'll fake a report saying you have a blood issue," Giselle offered.

Gratitude filled his face, and he seemed on the verge of kneeling before her.

As Giselle exited the stairwell, Joaquin hummed while descending the steps. Just as he stepped out, he was smacked on the head.

"You ungrateful brat! Your mother ran off, and now you want to abandon me too?" Wayne yelled.

He grabbed Joaquin by the collar, complaining loudly as onlookers stared on. Blushing with shame, Joaquin wished he could disappear. He had no choice but to be dragged along by Wayne to take the liver transplant test.

Days later, he was informed that his liver was compatible with Wayne's. When he heard that, he was shocked and filled with disbelief.

"This can't be. I'm not even his…" Joaquin trailed off.

When he noticed Giselle approaching in the distance, he quickly hid the test results in his sleeve.

Upon seeing his uneasy expression, Giselle anxiously asked if something bad happened.

"It's nothing. My dad just scolded me for being an ingrate," Joaquin said.

"Don't worry, Joaquin. I'll go talk to Uncle Wayne. I'll appease him without letting anything slip," Giselle said with assurance.

After she walked away, Joaquin went straight to the doctor and requested that the surgery be scheduled as soon as possible so he could donate his liver to Wayne.

I followed him home, where I watched him kneel on the floor and take out a file from his bag. As he opened it, I saw that it was a paternity test report. The results indicated a 99.9% probability of a father-son relationship with Wayne.

As I hovered in the air, I suddenly understood what Joaquin meant by Wayne having his reasons. I also understood which secret Giselle promised to keep.

Joaquin sat on the balcony all night.

At sunrise, he received a call from the police. "Mr. Landon, we've matched your wife's iris with the female corpse found in the wax museum."

The police confirmed that the body made into a wax figure was me.