When I was getting insulted and killed by someone, my husband was in the living room next door, giving medicine to his senior schoolmate.

As I was dying, I exerted all my strength to crash into the door, making noise.

That was my final cry for help.

Paul Bradley, with disgust, scolded at me outside the door.

"Ugh, can't I bring my classmate home to give her medicine without you making a fuss? Living with you makes me sick! Why don't you just drop dead, you evil woman?"

The next day, he was called back to the detective team to solve a brutal murder and dismemberment case.

He deduced that the murderer didn't dump the body at the initial crime scene.

But he didn't deduce that the initial murder scene was in our bedroom, nor did he recognize that the scattered body parts belonged to his most detested wife.

*****

The killer packaged me into three large bags, destroyed the surveillance cameras, and casually threw me in front of the police station.

Paul spent the whole day piecing together my shattered bones.

Billy Sharp's eyes turned red with anger.

"Beast! This is a provocation!"

"Her entire body is covered in wounds, not a single part intact! How dare he! And she was pregnant..."

It turned out my body was riddled with countless wounds...

I was in so much pain, I lost count...

My husband, Paul, was the most promising and talented forensic expert in their team.

He had extremely accurate deductions and intuition, assisting Billy in solving several major cases. Everyone who saw him would say he had a bright future ahead.

At this moment, he frowned, his eyes filled with reluctance.

"I won't let this beast get away with it!"

Even Paul, who was accustomed to bloody scenes, couldn't help but turn pale and retch when he saw the fully formed Terry retrieved from the sewer.

I lunged forward, but I lunged into nothingness.

My Terry...

I failed as a mother... I didn't protect my unborn kid...

After Paul regained composure, his brow remained furrowed as he explained my condition.

"Deceased female, 23 years old, died from excessive bleeding. The fetus in her abdomen was less than four months old. She was subjected to inhuman treatment before death, blunt force trauma to the abdomen and head, wounds on the shoulders and waist, multiple fractures throughout the body."

Billy rubbed his temples.

"The initial crime scene should be nearby."

"Since the killer isn't afraid of us at all, and even has a provocative mindset, it's very likely that the crime scene is somewhere familiar to us!"

After hearing this, Paul, with gloved hands, touched Terry's still unformed body and placed Terry's body next to mine.

They say father and son are connected.

"Paul, do you feel it?"

"He is our child!"

But besides regret, Paul showed no other emotions.

Suddenly, his gaze fell on my empty left hand.

That's where... my tattoo is.

His name is tattooed there.

Another officer caught his eye and explained. "There should be a birthmark or scar there. The killer is very cunning; the left hand of the deceased hasn't been found yet."

Paul's eyes flickered, clearly thinking of something.

Hope rose in my eyes.

Could Paul remember?

Then, a strong disgust flashed in his eyes, and he shook his head.

Billy noticed his reaction.

"Paul, what deduction did you come up with?"

A young officer next to Billy took over.

"I remember Ms. Gordon had Mr. Bradley's name tattooed on her left wrist! She also said she was pregnant! Mr. Bradley, don't you want to..."

Paul interrupted the young officer without hesitation.

"Enough! We're here to solve the case, not play games. Just because that woman says she's pregnant, you believe her? She's a con artist!"

The atmosphere froze momentarily.

Paul's colleague's loud voice broke the ice.

"We have a clue! There's a mole here!"

There's a small mole above and slightly to the left of my right earlobe, usually hard to notice.

But Paul knows.

When we were passionately in love, he always loved to kiss my ear from behind.

He's very familiar with this mole.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Would he notice?

He must bring the killer to justice, or else, the killer's next target will be him.

But Paul's eyes were calm, his tone steady.

"It's a clue, but it's still difficult to confirm the identity of the deceased based solely on this."

Billy nodded in agreement. "Check nearby missing persons, but the top priority is still to find the original crime scene."

Did Paul forget?

Or was he unwilling to recall the bits and pieces related to me?

I'm getting anxious.

There was no time.

I was afraid that villain would come after him.

The efficiency of the police station is very high; they checked all nearby missing persons, but none matched my description.

Billy had to expand the scope.

As their investigation veered further off track, Kyra Dixon appeared.

She's Paul's senior schoolmate and dream girl.

She works as a famous sketch artist.

Paul showed a gentle smile and affectionately rubbed Kyra's head.

"Thanks for your hard work."

Kyra tied her hair with a headband and efficiently took paper and pen to start working.

I saw the infatuation in Paul's eyes.

My heart sank gradually.

No matter what Kyra asked, Paul would patiently and gently reply.

In front of Kyra, he shed all his indifference and showed ample patience.

Kyra sketched the criminal's appearance with a pen while chatting with Paul.

"It's my fault for yesterday's incident. If I hadn't accidentally tripped and hurt my foot, she wouldn't have been so angry."

Paul chuckled disdainfully, his voice full of scorn.

"What does that have to do with you? She's petty and malicious. I just took you home to get some medicine, and she threw a fit, breaking things. She's always been like this since childhood, with a bad temper and venomous!"

I felt like I was floating in mid-air, a tearing pain in my soul as if I had gone back to yesterday afternoon.

Paul thought I was throwing a tantrum and breaking things.

He was wrong!

That was my last cry for help!

It was me trying my hardest, making a sound hitting the wall!

Kyra laughed. "Girls will be girls; having a temper is normal."

"The deceased was four months pregnant. I recall her mentioning it earlier. She was with a child."

Mentioning me, Paul unconsciously furrowed his brows, his eyes showing unmistakable weariness and disgust.

"Don't mention her; she's bad luck!"

"She loves to lie so much, you know that, everyone can be deceived by her. Kyra, you shouldn't be; you promised to always stand by my side."

The last sentence was spoken by Paul with a tender and emotional tone, as if they were the most intimate lovers in the world.

A strand of Kyra's hair fell in front of her forehead, and Paul skillfully tucked it behind her ear.

He took out a wet wipe from somewhere and carefully wiped away the sweat on Kyra's temple.

They discussed many things together, from the mundane to the profound.

No matter how boring Kyra's topics were, he could engage.

I never knew my husband was such a talkative person.

Although I was just a soul, the pain in my heart almost made it hard for me to breathe.

Kyra finished her painting.

When my gaze fell upon her painting, it felt as if an invisible hand was choking me.

Paul glanced at the painting and immediately took it away.

"Mr. Sharp, this is the suspect's likeness. We need to hurry and find out this person's identity."

A bitter smile played on my lips.

Did he really believe her?

Her painting was completely off.

Billy furrowed his brow. "Paul, this criminal is different. The methods are brutal, and his psychological resilience is strong. We can't be careless."

"I just heard Drew say that Kyra is pregnant too. We can't determine the motive yet, but what if the criminal enjoys killing pregnant women? Maybe you should call home and ask."

Paul always respected Billy.

So, he restrained himself somewhat, but his words still carried a hint of impatience and irritability.

"Mr. Sharp, her pregnancy is a lie! I'm her husband, how could I not know she's pregnant? Besides, at four months, she should be showing. Does she look pregnant to you?"

"Yesterday, when Kyra twisted her ankle, I was there to help her. She was in the room, throwing things and yelling at me. How can a woman so malicious be pregnant?"

"Enough, stop mentioning her! Just thinking about her makes me sick. Please don't torment me anymore!"

So, he despised me to this extent?