Abductors bind me in a basement, subjecting me to the torment of dozens. Meanwhile, my husband, Evan Foster, dines by candlelight with his lover, Carmen Locke.

My abductors grant me one chance to call for help, and I dial Evan's number. I'm certain he will come for me. I believe Evan would give his life for me, as he once vowed that his future held no meaning without me.

Clinging to hope, I call the number etched in my heart. However, Evan scolds me for interrupting their date. "You think I'll come get you? Dream on. Maybe I'll bother to collect your body if you die out there."

His words crush me, and I do die.

Five days later, Evan stands before the autopsy table, grimacing at the mangled remains before him.

Even as the police department's finest forensic expert, having dissected thousands of bodies, he condemns the killer's brutality.

Yet, despite his cold dismissal of my desperate plea over the phone, he now wears a look of pity.

Evan, if you knew these fragments belonged to me, would you still find me worthy of your compassion?

I could still remember that I'd left the house to prepare for my wedding anniversary.

Evan Foster and I had been married for two years. When I was on the brink of death, he had donated a kidney to me. We were more than just an ordinary married couple. We were one in both soul and body.

Thus, even though he had been neglecting me lately, I continued to believe he loved me.

On this day, the day of our wedding anniversary, I had a secret to tell Evan. I was certain that once he found out, he would return to my side.

All of a sudden, a car pulled up beside me. Someone covered my mouth, and I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head before losing consciousness altogether.

When I woke up, I was undressed and tied to a bed. Three men were on top of me, and over a dozen were waiting for their turn around me. There was also a camera in front of me recording everything.

I screamed. I cried. I begged.

But not only did they not stop what they were doing, they even tormented me even more ferociously.

An hour passed, then another. It went on for 12 whole hours.

Eventually, I lay half-dead on the floor that was stained with all sorts of liquids mixed with my blood. Still, I gritted my teeth and held on.

I didn't want to die. I wanted to go back to Evan. Once he realized I was missing, he would surely come looking for me.

One of my abductors ungagged me and handed me a phone, saying, "Call your husband. We'll release you if he's willing to pay a ransom to save you."

Eyes gleaming with hope, I struggled into a sitting position and made the call.

Evan would definitely come and get me! He was at home waiting for me to celebrate our anniversary together!

However, the call was rejected three times. On the fourth time, he answered, "What kind of trick are you trying to pull this time, Lyra? You want me to come and get you? In your dreams! Perhaps if you drop dead somewhere, then I'll consider handling your body for you."

As the call cut off, my eyes dimmed.

I heard the sounds in the background during the call. There was piano music, and a woman speaking coyly to him. I recognized the voice. It belonged to Carmen Locke.

Evan was spending our wedding anniversary with another woman. Even when I was about to die, he was irritated that I'd interrupted their date.

My abductor came at me with a chainsaw. I slumped back onto the dirtied floor and closed my eyes in despair.

…

Evan's brows were deeply furrowed as he opened the suitcase on top of the autopsy table. The suitcase had been stuffed to the brim with dozens of pieces of human body parts. All of the blood had dried up and turned brown.

He took all of the human remains out, only to find that the head was missing.

Shaun Jefferson, Evan's assistant, handed him a scalpel, but he didn't take it. Instead, he kept staring at the body parts that had to be assembled like a puzzle.

At long last, Evan moved. He slammed his fist against the autopsy table, causing a loud bang to sound. That proved just how furious he was right now.

Pointing along the edge of my neck, he growled, "The killer is brutal. Look at these wounds here. These are clearly bite marks left by a canine. The killer not only killed and dismembered the victim but also allowed an animal to bite the victim. We must do a thorough examination and apprehend the killer as soon as possible!"

Watching Evan being so engrossed in his work, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. As expected, he didn't recognize me.

Well, it made sense. In our two years of marriage, we'd been intimate less than five times.

Whenever I tried to initiate something, he would say he was tired before turning his back toward me and falling fast asleep.

How could I possibly be delusional enough to expect him to recognize my body? To him, my body was no different from that of a stranger.

With much concentration, Evan pieced my body parts back together before inspecting all of my injuries. While conducting the autopsy, he listed out his findings to the medical scribe.

"Based on the condition of the body, the victim is a female, approximately 28 years old. All ten of her fingertips have been severed, making it impossible to identify her through her fingerprints. Judging by the wounds, her fingertips had been severed while she was still alive and conscious."

Evan had to pause and take a deep breath. The police officers also sighed, finding it hard to stomach the information.

There was no doubt that Evan was the best medical examiner. He was right. After he ended the call, my abductors started plotting how they were going to kill me. To avoid allowing the authorities to identify me, they stomped on my palms and used an ax to chop off my fingertips, one by one.

I was dead now. I shouldn't be able to feel any pain. Yet when I recalled what it'd been like when they severed my fingertips, the memory of the pain made me tremble anyway.

Evan proceeded down the body, and when he got to my lower half, he was shocked beyond words.

"Based on the tears found on the victim's lower body, she was raped over 30 times, and the abuse lasted over ten hours. Those bastards!"

Once again, Evan lost control over his emotions and roared with anger.

This was probably his first time losing his temper at work. He, an expert medical examiner, was typically known for his gentle and sophisticated demeanor. But now, even he was deeply shaken by the tragic state of the body.

As I watched his reaction, all I could do was let out a bitter laugh.

Would he still be this outraged if he knew the body was mine?

After all, during that final call before my death, he'd casually suggested that I could drop dead somewhere.

Evan composed himself and carried on with the autopsy. All of a sudden, he became startled and reached out to gently caress my calf.

Tensing up, I tightened my fists. Was he finally going to realize it was me?

Five years ago, I joined a wilderness adventure club. It was there that I first met Evan.

On one of the trips, as a result of my lackluster stamina, I ended up trailing behind the group. Evan had been gentlemanly enough to hang back and keep pace behind me. However, we ended up missing the trail marks left by the group leader and getting lost in the forest.

Unused to the terrain, I slipped and fell into a deep pit.

When I regained consciousness, I was lying on the ground with a bag as a pillow. As I tried to move, I felt an excruciating pain coming from my calf.

"Don't move. You broke a bone in your calf. I had to set it temporarily with a splinter," Evan said.

The pit was made up entirely of slippery rocks. Since Evan's arm was injured, he couldn't carry me out either. We had to wait to be rescued.

The weather in the forest was extremely unpredictable. Just moments ago, it was sunny, but it started raining within minutes. Evan made many attempts to start a fire, to no avail.

As night fell, the temperature dipped. I couldn't stop myself from shivering. Right then, Evan huddled closer and took his jacket off before draping it on top of me, saying softly, "Lyra."

Being the gentleman he was, he widened his arms slightly and sought my permission. Cheeks flushing, I leaned against him. We held each other close, relying on each other's body warmth to get through this gruelling night.

The next day, a rescue team saved us. I was left with an eight-inch scar along my calf, but thankfully, Evan had treated my injury in time. I could still walk perfectly fine.

…

Back in the autopsy room, Evan stroked my scar and said, "The victim has an old scar on her right leg. Due to the distinctiveness of the scar, it can be used to identify the victim."

Then, he looked away.

Back then, after Evan held me the entire night, my love for him grew until it could grow no more. We were in love soon after that.

Alas, even though only five years had passed since then, he seemed to have forgotten everything.

After making a full record of the external injuries, Evan picked up the scalpel and made his first incision.

"Hm?"

Staring at where my kidneys were supposed to be, Evan let out a puzzled hum.

Evan and I dated for three years without ever fighting once before we decided to get married. However, just before our wedding, I found out that I was suffering from kidney failure.

Not wanting to burden Evan, I asked for a breakup. Evan begged me to reconsider. It was the first time I'd ever seen him cry, but despite that, I closed the door in his face.

As I waited in despair for my time to die, the doctor told me a suitable donor had been found and that I could get the surgery done immediately.

When I was wheeled into the surgical theater, I found that Evan had been wheeled in as well. He had secretly checked to see if he was a suitable donor, and once he found out he was, he became determined to donate a kidney to me.

Sobbing hard, I tried to refuse to go through with the surgery, but Evan came over and gave me a kiss, saying, "Compared to losing a kidney, I think my future would be even more pitiful if I lost a beautiful wife."

The surgery was a success, and the wedding proceeded as planned. I thought my relationship with Evan was even more intimate than that of normal married couples. My love for him didn't fade with marriage either. It only intensified.

Thus, in spite of the way he had been treating me recently, I would still think fondly of our loving past and fool myself into thinking he would come back to me.

Evan broke me out of my reverie by looking up and saying to the police officers on the side, "The victim is missing both her kidneys."

Eyes widening in disbelief, I dashed over to the autopsy table and checked on my mutilated body. Where my kidneys once were, there were only two bloody holes left.

After the surgery, I was able to stay alive with the kidney Evan gave me. That was evidence of his love for me. Why did those men take my kidney away after killing me?

Following a quick analysis, Evan continued with the autopsy. He still hadn't discovered my identity yet, but it wasn't something I could dwell on right now. He was about to open up my abdomen.

Once he cut open my womb, he would find the other secret I'd been keeping—the one I planned on telling him on our wedding anniversary.