After thinking it over, Caroline actually nodded and agreed to take him.

Of course, she did. I forgot that Ian was always an exception to every rule she had.

Once he had permission, Ian excitedly rushed Caroline to the morgue. He walked straight to where my body was stored, like he knew exactly where to find it.

That was when I realized he had been coming for me all along.

The morgue had various reagents stored for further testing, which worked perfectly in Ian's favor. He casually picked up a bottle of concentrated sulfuric acid. Then, acting as if it were accidental, he poured all of it over my face.

Even through the sheet covering me, I could tell from the hatred in his eyes that he knew exactly whose body it was. The moment the acid hit, the white cloth melted instantly, and thick white smoke rose as the acid ate into my skin.

I was just a wandering soul without nerves or pain, yet I still gasped in shock at the sight.

I was already dead, yet Ian denied me the dignity of keeping my body whole.

Caroline heard the commotion and rushed over. Meanwhile, Ian covered his mouth and immediately put on a panicked, helpless expression.

"Carol, I'm so sorry. I was just looking around. I didn't think this would happen," he mumbled as he reached out to pull the sheet off my body.

"Don't touch it!" Caroline grabbed his hand quickly. "That's concentrated sulfuric acid. It's highly corrosive. Don't use your bare hands."

Ian wisely stepped back.

Then, Caroline put on two layers of rubber gloves and used forceps to lift the sheet from my face.

Since the acid was so corrosive, parts of the sheet had already fused with my face and could not be easily removed. My face was not destroyed, though. At least the upper part of my forehead was still intact.

On my forehead was a very faint but long scar. I got it while protecting Caroline from a violent psychiatric patient at the hospital.

Back when we first got married, Caroline was not yet a full forensic pathologist and had to work various shifts at the hospital for training. Unfortunately, her stubborn personality clashed with a psychiatric patient, and he grabbed a fruit knife and tried to stab her.

Luckily, I left work early that day to pick her up. I managed to shield her just before the knife came down, taking the blow for her. It was one of the rare moments she let her guard down with me, crying in my arms and begging me not to die.

Honestly, she was just panicking. If she had looked closer, she would have noticed that I was bleeding heavily, but the wound was not deep.

Still, I threw myself at the attack fully prepared to risk my life, and the scar always meant something special to me.

As I floated above the scene, I found myself foolishly hoping she would recognize me by it. I was her husband after all. Ian deliberately destroyed my body, and Caroline would not forgive him easily.

Yet, I was wrong.

Caroline only had eyes for Ian right now. Her gaze swept quickly over my body, and her expression grew serious. "Ian, this is going to be tricky. The body is too damaged."

Suddenly, a flashlight beam swept past the window. Caroline quickly covered Ian's mouth and pulled him down into a crouch.

The security guard did not see anyone in the morgue, but the lights were on. He looked confused and scanned the room once more. Then, he turned off the lights and left, scratching his head.

Ian finally sighed in relief. "Caroline, what are we going to do? Will they find out I was here? Am I going to get arrested?"

Caroline stayed silent. Under the cold moonlight, I could clearly see the worry in her eyes.

"Don't be scared. I know you didn't mean to. Besides, this isn't entirely your fault. I should've been more careful, too. Ian, don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you."

As if she had finally made up her mind, she grabbed another bottle of sulfuric acid and poured it over my face in a deliberate circle.

The sheet fragments still stuck to my skin dissolved under the acid.

"No!" I screamed, trying to knock the bottle from her hands, demanding to know if she understood what she was doing.

Yet, no matter how hard I struggled, it was useless. As a wandering soul, I could only watch helplessly as she destroyed my body to protect Ian Lawson.

When Caroline was done, my corpse truly looked like the damage had happened before death, not after. Actually, if she had examined my body carefully, she would have discovered that the torture I endured before dying was just as bad as this.

Being splashed with acid was practically the simplest part.

After handling that, Caroline still did not feel it was enough. She checked the ID tag on my wrist. Then, she told Ian to write down the number and find the file that matched it.

As Caroline placed my hand back under the sheet, she caught a glimpse of it, and her eyes widened in shock. The wrist bone showed a deep rope burn, carved so harshly that bone was visible.

My fingers hung limp, all the nails were ripped out, and the fingertips were chewed short by countless maggots.

The ring finger was different, though. It had a band of paler skin, clearly from wearing a ring for years.

Caroline and I never had a wedding ceremony. After we got our marriage license, her attitude toward me had already turned cold. The only ring I wore all these years was my engagement ring.

Every time Caroline saw it on my finger, she lost her temper and called me pretentious, fake, and shameless. She never knew I only wore it to hold on to the one bond we still had. Sadly, the ring I treasured for a decade did not survive in the end.

The people who beat me unconscious took everything valuable from me—including that ring. Maybe the mark triggered something in Caroline, because she instinctively touched her own finger. But her hand was empty, since the only one who cared about preserving this marriage was me.

Caroline stared blankly as she rubbed her bare ring finger. Then out of nowhere, she lifted her head and asked Ian a question that had nothing to do with the moment.

"That time you said you saw Luther with another woman; When was that exactly?"

The moment she mentioned me, Ian thought she had found something wrong with the body, and sweat instantly beaded on his forehead.

He said, "I think it was two weeks ago. Why, Carol? Why bring him up now?"

Caroline frowned like she was piecing something together. "I just feel like he wouldn't disappear for so long without a word, I-"

Then, she suddenly cut herself off. "Wait. Two weeks ago, my mom was sick, and Luther stayed by her side the entire time. How would he have time to meet anyone else? I need to ask him what really happened."

She pulled out her phone, ready to call me.

Ian nearly burst into tears from panic. "Carol, forget that right now! The important thing is we need to deal with this body first!"

He was still terrified that even melting my face would not be enough. He pushed Caroline, convinced her to help hide my body, and wanted her to make sure the truth stayed buried forever.

The dead could not speak, but in the hands of a forensic pathologist, a body absolutely could. So, he wanted to erase every last trace.

Caroline took Ian to the file room and found my file using the body tag number. If she just opened it, she would have seen the photos taken when my body first arrived. She would have known that the corpse was me.

Yet, to protect Ian, Caroline set fire to my file without even glancing at it. Together, they dumped my body in the river and falsified the inventory. It was as if I was never brought to the morgue at all.

Caroline personally erased every trace of my existence in this world, along with any chance of justice for me.

I felt hollow. As a forensic pathologist, Caroline betrayed her conscience and desecrated the profession she took pride in.

When she looked at Ian, she just gave him a tired smile. It was as if she was relieved she protected the man she loved once again. She thought she covered everything perfectly, not realizing the case involving this body was far from simple.

The next day, Caroline got a call from the detectives. They said a male corpse connected to a major smuggling case disappeared from the morgue, and they asked if she saw anyone suspicious at work. The higher-ups were taking this case very seriously, insisting that they had to find the body.

Caroline gave some vague answers and hung up. However, her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She tried to steady herself and was about to find Ian to discuss their next move, but another call came in.

It was Aaron Reed, my assistant.

Caroline always believed I forced her into marriage with money and resented my company, so she disliked my employees as well.

Aaron would never have contacted her unless he had no other choice.

Caroline’s face darkened, but she still answered. She demanded, "Did Luther ask you to call me? What has he been doing all these days?"

There was a pause on the other end before Aaron stammered, "D-Dr. Bailey, we haven't been able to reach Mr. Powell for an entire week. You haven't heard from him either?"

"What?!" Caroline's voice shot up.

She quickly checked all my social media accounts but found nothing. An entire week passed without a single word from me, as if I vanished into thin air.

Caroline grabbed her coat and rushed out the door, heading straight to the police station to find her detective friend. "Kenneth, I need you to look someone up. His name is Luther Powell."

"Caroline, I was just about to find you. We found the male victim by the river. You're the best forensic pathologist we have, and Captain Jenner wants you to handle the autopsy personally."

Caroline's fingers trembled slightly, and her eyes flickered with uncertainty. She stammered, "T-That was fast."

Before she could figure out her next move, Kenneth West already led her to the autopsy room. My body was lying on the table, swollen and smelling from being in the water for a day.

The moment Caroline stepped into the room, she automatically slipped back into her professional mindset. No matter what happened, she would have to carry out the autopsy properly.

However, when she finally looked closely at the corpse, her knees nearly buckled.

Every detail of the body screamed the same terrible truth: the man who was tortured and burned with acid looked exactly like me.

Caroline touched the acid-scorched skin on the corpse’s cheek, and her lashes trembled uncontrollably. Then, she brushed aside the hair on my forehead and finally saw that faint scar that belonged to me.

The scalpel clattered to the floor as Croline jerked her hand back like she was electrocuted, covering her head and screaming.