Five years ago, Arabella Gilmore—once the brightest rising star in the police force—lost her legs in an explosion.

The golden girl of the department had become nothing more than Anthony Whitehead's wheelchair-bound wife.

She had thought about giving up countless times.

But she held on to the words he whispered to her on their wedding day. "Arabella, you've got to stay strong. I'm waiting for you to come back to work with me together."

That one word "together" was what kept her alive through more than a thousand nights of pain and despair.

Now, her doctor told her the best news she had heard in years—her recovery was going well, and soon she would be able to stand again.

Arabella couldn't wait to tell Anthony that.

But on the way to his unit, she was kidnapped.

When she woke up, a cold blade was pressed against her cheek, cutting through her skin with a searing sting.

Just when she thought she was going to die, the sound of police sirens pierced the air outside, followed by hurried footsteps and shouts.

"It's police! Drop your weapon!"

That familiar voice shattered her fear.

It was Anthony.

The moment she heard him, the tension drained from her body. She fell into his arms, trembling.

"It's okay now, Bella," he said, his voice tight with worry. "I'm sorry I'm late."

She wanted to say it was okay, but the blood loss left her too weak to speak. All she could do was lean feebly against his chest.

His scent still made her feel safe—just like all those nights he would wait up with the living room light on until she came home.

Like the time she burned with fever and he stayed up all night, cooling her forehead with damp towels.

Like every moment, he would whisper firmly in her ear, "Don't be afraid, Bella. I'm always here."

He had always kept his word.

After the medics patched her up, she refused further rest and wheeled herself to the temporary command post.

But before she could reach him, she overheard his colleagues talking excitedly.

"It was risky, but it worked perfectly."

"Yeah, if Captain Whitehead hadn't used Arabella as bait, the suspect might still be free right now!"

Arabella froze. Cold crept through her veins.

Bait? What bait?

"Shut up!" Anthony snapped, his tone sharp and cold. "The mission's over. Enough talk."

"Captain Whitehead, what's there to hide?" another officer said. "Arabella was one of us—sure, she's not in the field anymore, but catching a psycho like that sometimes means making sacrifices."

Someone else chimed in, half-joking, "And the plan worked perfectly. If she hadn't been in a wheelchair, there's no way she could've pulled off that terrified-victim act so convincingly. Anyone else? That lunatic might not have taken the bait."

A chill crept up Arabella's spine, freezing her in place.

It wasn't a coincidence. It wasn't luck that the police had found her in time. Anthony, the captain of the task force, had used her as live bait to lure the killer out.

She shoved open the container door, her voice shaking with fury and betrayal.

"Anthony, you knew he was after me. You used me as bait, didn't you?"

The entire team fell silent.

Anthony quickly stepped forward, reaching for her. "Bella, you shouldn't be here. You need to rest—"

"Answer me!" she shouted, slapping his hand away.

He hesitated for a few seconds before his tone turned coldly professional.

"Yes. We had solid intel that you were his next target. It was the best way to draw him out."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice trembled. "I may be crippled, but I was a cop too! I could've cooperated!"

"Bella, calm down," one of the team members said. "Captain Whitehead only kept it secret to make it more convincing."

The voice made Arabella snap her head around.

She would never forget that voice.

Five years ago, during a hostage rescue mission, she had found out at the last minute that the victim was Anthony's junior, Judith Jensen.

The same woman who had told Anthony her feelings more than once, even knowing he was with Arabella.

Seeing the worry in Anthony's eyes back then, Arabella had promised she would bring Judith back safely.

Just as Arabella and Judith were about to make it out safely that day, Judith suddenly screamed and exposed their position.

To protect her, Arabella was caught in an explosion that shattered her legs, confining her to a wheelchair and forcing her to retire from field duty.

Afterward, Judith cried and apologized endlessly, saying she couldn't forgive herself. To atone, she claimed she would give up her dream of being a cop and leave the country for good.

So why was Judith standing here now?

"Judith?" Arabella said in disbelief.

"It's me, Bella," Judith replied with a faint smile. "Long time no see. I'm now deputy captain of the Criminal Investigation Unit, Captain Whitehead's partner, and one of the main planners of this operation."

Arabella's fingertips turned icy as she gripped her wheelchair.

Before Anthony could speak, his radio crackled. His team was being called to regroup.

In moments, everyone was gone, leaving only Arabella in front of the container.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. If it hadn't been for that explosion, she would still be one of them.

It wasn't until the pain of her wound pulsed again that she realized how long she'd been sitting there.

Slowly, she wheeled herself outside.

A kind medic offered her a place to rest in an empty car.

Before long, she heard voices outside.

"Captain Whitehead and Deputy Jensen are getting more in sync," one of the team members said. "Almost like how Captain Whitehead used to be with Arabella back in the day."

Judith laughed softly.

"I could never compare to Bella."

"Don't be so modest," the officer replied. "Arabella's time is over. These days she's..."

Before he could finish, Judith interrupted.

"Please don't say that. Back then, it was my fault. I couldn't handle Captain Whitehead's marriage, so I acted out and got myself kidnapped. If I hadn't been so reckless, Bella wouldn't have been injured..."

Her voice trembled with guilt and remorse.

Anthony said calmly, "You were young. It's normal to have a bit of a temper."

"Exactly," another officer chimed in. "You spent five whole years overseas to make up for it. That's punishment enough. Besides, you and Captain Whitehead really do make a great team. At least you don't slow him down."

"Enough," Anthony cut in sharply.

Judith spoke gently, "Captain Whitehead, I don't have those feelings anymore. I just couldn't stand watching you struggle—taking care of Arabella while managing investigations. I came back to help ease your burden."

"Let's stay focused. We're on duty," Anthony replied curtly.

Once, he would have defended Arabella without hesitation, insisting she wasn't a burden. But this time, he stayed silent.

That silence cut deeper than any blade.

Because of Judith's so-called "temper," Arabella had lost her legs and her career.

And Anthony, who knew the truth and had seen how much she suffered during rehab, still chose to forgive Judith.

Worse, he allowed the woman who destroyed her life five years ago to take her place, simply because he thought Arabella was a burden.

Their voices faded into the distance.

Arabella lay motionless in the back seat, her body cold—colder than when the killer's knife had been pressed to her skin.

The husband who once said he loved her, and the teammates who once said they couldn't wait for her return, had all chosen Judith.

And she, foolishly, had believed she was still part of their world.

A faint, bitter comfort washed over her—thankfully, none of them knew that her legs had been slowly healing.

She had even prepared her return-to-duty report, ready to rejoin the team once she could stand again.

But now, there was no need.

Someone else had already taken her place.

Arabella pulled out her phone. "Chief Burke, I'd like to apply for the profiler position."

Chandler Burke's voice brightened. "You've finally made up your mind?

"That's wonderful! You were great in the field, but we've always known your real gift lies in profiling."

A faint smile touched Arabella's lips.

"Yes. I've made up my mind."

The old Arabella was gone.

From now on, she was going to live for herself and for the work she truly loved.

When Anthony came home, Arabella was reading a book on criminal profiling.

"Bella, the case is wrapped up. I'm off tomorrow. Remember that little restaurant you wanted to try? How about I take you there?"

Arabella didn't look up. Her voice was calm. "Can't. I have rehab tomorrow."

He sighed softly and crouched down beside her.

"Are you still upset? About that operation—"

"No," she cut him off. "Rehab is important. I can't miss it."

He took her hand. "I'll go with you tomorrow. After that, we'll have dinner."

She could read the unease in his eyes, the way he was trying to please her. Once, she would have melted at his gentleness and promises. Now, she only felt tired.

Not wanting another pointless argument, she withdrew her hand and gave a faint nod.

The next morning, as they opened the door, they found Judith waiting outside, looking anxious.

"Captain Whitehead! There's an emergency at the station. Chief Burke needs you back right away."

Her words came fast, but her eyes flicked briefly toward Arabella. "Sorry to interrupt, Arabella."

Anthony frowned. "What's so urgent? I'm supposed to—"

"Work comes first," Arabella said softly. "You should go."

He looked at her and hesitated.

Judith stepped forward, her tone warm and sincere. "Captain Whitehead, I'll take care of Bella. You can pick us up at the rehab center once you're done."

Anthony nodded. "Alright then. Bella, go ahead with Judith. I'll come get you later."

At the rehab center, Arabella sat quietly in the waiting area. On the big screen ahead, a safety awareness video was playing.

Then her husband appeared on-screen with Judith.

They were playing a couple caught in a crisis. Their teamwork looked flawless, and the gentle, helpless, and indulgent look Anthony gave Judith stabbed Arabella's chest with a dull ache.

She remembered back in the police academy, when their media club needed a pair for a promo video. The club president had suggested another girl.

Anthony refused outright and pulled Arabella close, saying, "If it's not Arabella, I'm not doing it."

Back then, his eyes had burned with devotion. No one else existed for him.

But now, he stood beside Judith as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I can't believe they aired that!" Judith said with a laugh, turning to her. "Bella, you should've seen the shoot. It was so much fun. Captain Whitehead might look cold, but he's really thoughtful.

"I had my period that day and we had to reshoot several times, but he never once lost his patience..."

She kept talking, her tone light, teasing, almost intimate.

To anyone else, it sounded like harmless work chatter. But Arabella knew Anthony. He hated inefficiency. The fact that he'd tolerated it only meant one thing—Judith was showing off his special treatment.

Arabella listened silently, her chest tightening with every word.

Her heart felt gripped by an invisible hand, squeezing until she could barely breathe.

Thankfully, the nurse called her name.

The rehabilitation was still agonizing.

Sweat soaked through her clothes as she gritted her teeth, using the physical pain to drown out the cold emptiness inside.

After the rehab session, Judith pushed her wheelchair toward the exit and said brightly, "Bella, let's grab lunch at the mall. I know a really good restaurant. Captain Whitehead's coming too."

Arabella's instinct was to refuse.

"No. I just want to go home."

Since the accident, she'd rarely gone to crowded places. Noise and chaos made her uneasy.

But Judith didn't take no for an answer, pushing her chair forward with a smile.

"Come on, don't be shy. Captain Whitehead told me to take good care of you. He'd be upset if he found out I didn't even make sure you ate."

The restaurant was quiet and refined. Judith ordered with practiced ease.

"Captain Whitehead's brought me here a few times. The food's amazing," she said brightly.

"Especially this stew. He always orders it for me, says it's good for my health. You have to try it, Bella."

Arabella's hand froze.

This was the same restaurant she had wanted to visit months ago. She had even mentioned it to Anthony, excitedly.

But he had told her he was too busy with work, that they would go another time.

Now she knew—he wasn't too busy. He had just been taking someone else.

Her heart thudded painfully, the air catching in her throat.

The food before her turned tasteless, every bite like ash.

Just then, sharp screams and the sound of frantic footsteps erupted from outside the restaurant.

"Someone's been killed!"

"Help! There's a man with a knife!"

The terrified screams outside pierced through the restaurant's glass doors.

Arabella jolted, instinctively trying to stand and rush toward the chaos—that reflex to protect was ingrained deep in her bones.

But the moment she tried to move, her weakened legs betrayed her, dragging her back to reality.

At the same time, Judith jumped up and shouted, "Everyone, stay calm! I'm a police officer! Protect yourselves!"

Heads turned toward their table, including the bloodshot eyes of the man wielding a knife.

Judith moved to shield a few nearby customers, but in her haste, she accidentally bumped into Arabella's wheelchair, knocking it sideways and exposing Arabella to the attacker's line of sight.

The man charged. Arabella's pupils constricted; she tried to dodge, but there was no time.

The cold blade plunged into her body, ripping through flesh.

Screams emerged all around them. Only then did Judith react.

"Bella!" she cried.

With help from bystanders, the attacker was finally restrained.

Judith knelt in front of her, panicked. "Bella! Stay with me! Call an ambulance now!"

The pain overwhelmed her. Darkness swallowed her whole.

When Arabella woke again, the sharp scent of disinfectant filled her nose.

Anthony was at her bedside, watching her closely.

"Bella, you're awake? How do you feel? Don't worry. The doctor said you're not in any danger."

She tried to speak, but her throat was painfully dry.

The door opened. Judith poked her head in. "Captain Whitehead, the doctor needs a family member's signature."

Anthony patted Arabella's hand. "I'll be right back."

He left quickly, and muffled voices drifted in from the hallway.

She couldn't make out the words.

A few minutes later, he returned. His expression was dark and conflicted.

"Bella, why did you post the details of the operation where you acted as bait online?"

Arabella looked bewildered, struggling to form words. "What?"

"Don't play dumb." His tone hardened. "The whole internet is praising you for your so-called heroism, using yourself as bait. Your photos are everywhere!

"Do you realize how serious this is? That criminal group still has members at large. You just made yourself their target!"

"Today's random attack was their revenge," he said coldly. "Because of you, a girl is dead!"

"I didn't—" Arabella struggled to sit up. "I never posted anything!"

Judith stepped in, her voice soft but firm.

"Bella, calm down. I know you probably just wanted people to see your sacrifice, but posting that kind of information online is against protocol. It's dangerous, and it puts you at risk."

She pulled out her phone and opened a news article.

On the screen was a photo of Arabella being rescued, the comments section filled with praise for the "disabled police heroine who faced death bravely."

Arabella's blood turned cold.

No one knew better than she did—those details were strictly confidential. Revealing them while suspects were still on the run wasn't self-promotion; it was suicide.

"It wasn't me!" she said hoarsely, her eyes pleading with Anthony. "You have to believe me. I would never do something so stupid!"

Anthony drew in a sharp breath, his tone like ice.

"The IP address that posted it was traced back to our home.

"Arabella, I'm deeply disappointed in you."

His disbelief cut deeper than her wounds.

Judith placed a hand on his arm gently. "Captain Whitehead, don't be too hard on her. I'm sure Bella just made a mistake."

He rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. "I'll try to contain the fallout, but the damage is already done."

"Arabella, you'd better think about what you've done."

With that, he walked out with Judith.

Arabella lay in the hospital bed, feeling utterly abandoned. The pain in her wounds was nothing compared to the ache in her heart.

He didn't believe her.

Tears finally spilled down her cheeks, burning as they fell.

The day Arabella was discharged from the hospital, she saw Anthony again, with Judith following right behind him.

"I'll go handle the discharge papers. Judith, stay with her," he said flatly.

Not once did he look at Arabella.

Moments after he left, chaos erupted. A woman burst into the room, shoving past the guards, her face twisted with rage.

"You monster! You killed my daughter!" she screamed.

Before anyone could react, the woman yanked open a glass bottle and hurled its contents toward Arabella.

Arabella recognized the acrid smell instantly. She tried to move her wheelchair, but her body was too slow.

Judith could have easily stopped the old woman, but instead she froze, pretending to be startled. When the woman charged forward, Judith even stepped back half a pace.

Only when the acid was about to hit Arabella's face did Judith suddenly spring forward, shouting "No!" and throwing herself between them.

Most of the acid splashed across Judith's back and arms. The rest landed on Arabella's legs that had only just begun to heal.

The air filled with the sickening hiss of burning flesh.

Seconds later, Anthony stormed into the room with a team of officers, subduing the attacker immediately.

"Judith!" His face was drained of color. When he saw the horrific burns on her body, his eyes filled with panic and pain. "Doctor! Get a doctor in here now!"

Without hesitation, he scooped the screaming Judith into his arms and rushed out, never once glancing at Arabella—ashen, trembling, and injured.

The room fell silent.

Arabella sat motionless in her wheelchair. Her legs were numb from the burns, yet she felt an unbearable chill spread through her body.

Just before losing consciousness, Judith had leaned close and whispered something in her ear.

"Arabella, I know you're innocent because the one who set you up was me."

Arabella couldn't comprehend it. How could a police officer, who had sworn to protect others, destroy lives for her own selfish desires?

But what echoed most in her mind was the image of Anthony's back as he ran out, holding Judith.

He hadn't even looked at her. Not once did he ask if she was okay.

It was then she finally understood—how clear the line between love and indifference, between trust and betrayal, becomes when danger strikes.

The cold weight of despair wrapped around her chest, suffocating her.

This time, she didn't even have the strength to cry.

So this was what it felt like when your heart finally died.

The hospital incident exploded online overnight.

Public outrage came fast and mercilessly. Arabella's name and photos flooded the trending lists.

"ArabellaTheFameSeeker" "JudithTheHeroine"

The comment section was a storm of hatred.

"I heard she used to be a police beauty queen. Guess now that she's crippled, this is how she gets attention. Disgusting!"

"Poor Officer Jensen. She got burned saving someone like Arabella. I hope she recovers soon!"

"How did she get those medals? I bet her husband, Captain Whitehead, pulled strings for them. Someone should investigate!"

People even dug up old news reports of her second-class merit award—the one she had nearly died earning. Under that article, comments like "didn't deserve it" filled the page.

Arabella shut her eyes, letting the phone slip from her hand, trying to block out the poison.

The door opened. Anthony walked in, looking exhausted.

"You've seen the public reaction," he said flatly. "The only way to calm things down is to make a public apology to Judith. Say it was a moment of poor judgment."

He paused, lowering his voice. "The department will also temporarily revoke your award. Once things settle, I'll..."

"Anthony," Arabella interrupted softly. "Do you even remember what I looked like the day I earned that medal?"

Before he could answer, she went on.

"My lungs were punctured. I had three ribs broken and burns all over my body. I could barely breathe. But I still did it. I told you I hadn't brought shame to you or to our mentor.

"You, of all people, know exactly what that medal cost me."

He swallowed hard, his tone defensive. "I know how much you sacrificed. This is just temporary."

Arabella met his gaze, her words cutting clear and slow.

"I don't agree to it because I didn't do what they're accusing me of.

"And I won't apologize to Judith because she planned all of this."

Her last words were drowned out by crying from the room next door.

Anthony stiffened. Hesitation vanished from his face, replaced by worry. He turned and rushed to Judith's ward.

Arabella watched his back disappear through the doorway. The truth trembled on her lips, but she swallowed it.

When he returned, his eyes were complicated, heavy. After a long silence, he finally spoke.

"Bella... Judith's burns are severe. The doctors recommend a skin graft.

A chill spread through Arabella's chest. Dread settled like a stone in her gut.

And then came the words she feared. "Your tissue is the closest match."

"I don't agree." Her refusal was immediate, but her voice trembled.

He wanted her to let them cut her open for Judith?

"Bella!" Anthony snapped. "She got hurt saving you! All they need is a small piece of skin. How can you be so selfish?"

"I said no." She turned her head away, refusing to look at him and to let him see the light in her eyes that had just completely shattered.

"Get out, Anthony."

The surgery went ahead anyway.

It wasn't with her consent—he signed the papers himself, using both his authority as her family and her superior.

When the anesthetic needle pierced her skin, Arabella felt her heart go numb along with it.

After the graft, Judith's body rejected the transplant violently.

Another emergency followed. The doctors issued a critical notice. Anthony forced Arabella into the intensive care unit.

Judith lay covered in tubes, her body mangled. When she saw Anthony, tears welled in her eyes. She still managed a frail smile.

"Captain Whitehead, don't worry about me... I'll be fine..."

Then she turned to Arabella, voice trembling. "I'm sorry for the trouble, Bella. Please don't blame him..."

Each word, weak and pitiful, pushed Anthony further to her side.

The monitor beeped frantically. Judith gripped his hand, sobbing.

"Anton... I've never forgotten you. I've always loved you. If there's a next life, I'll—"

"There's no next life," Anthony cut in, his voice breaking. "Just stay alive. If you survive this, I'll be with you. We'll get married."

He said it right there in front of everyone.

Then he called the precinct, ordering someone to prepare his divorce paperwork.

Arabella listened to every word.

The world went deathly quiet, except for the sound of her heart shattering piece by piece.

"No... I can't come between you and Bella..."

Judith cried weakly.

One of the team members rushed to Arabella's side, voice thick with emotion. "Arabella, she's like this because of you! She's dying! If you have any conscience left, let them be together!"

Arabella looked up at him—the same colleague who had once been her closest partner.

Now his eyes held only pity for Judith and contempt for her.

Her hands were ice cold as she gripped her wheelchair.

After a long silence, she whispered, "Alright. I agree."

At least this way, she wouldn't have to think of another excuse to end a marriage that had already fallen apart.

She wheeled herself out of the ward quietly.

But when she passed a couple holding each other in the hallway, the tears finally came.

The man who once held her hand at their wedding and said, "From now on, through storm and sunshine, life and death, we stand together."

The man who stayed up all night nursing her through fevers.

The man who used to say before every dangerous mission, "Don't be afraid. I'll come back."

That man was gone.

Every cherished memory she had ever held turned into a blade, cutting her heart into pieces.

Judith eventually pulled through. She only needed time and rest to recover.

But Arabella's leg burns, worsened by exhaustion and delayed treatment, became infected. Her fever kept returning, each wave more severe than the last.

The hospital happened to have a renowned dermatology professor visiting, but his schedule was tight. He could treat only one patient.

The doctors prepared to wheel Arabella into the operating room, but Anthony stopped them.

"Have the professor check on Judith first."

His cold, steady voice cut through the air and sank into Arabella's ears.

Flat on the stretcher, fever burning through her, she drifted in and out of consciousness—but even through the haze, she knew exactly what he had chosen this time.

She remembered how, no matter what happened, she was always his first choice.

During a police academy tournament, he had been on track to win first place. But the moment she fell, he abandoned the match and ran to her side without hesitation.

Even during movies, when the hero faced a life-or-death choice, he would wrap an arm around her and whisper, "If it were me, I'd always choose you. No question."

But now, the man who once said "no question" measured everything by cost and consequence.

Maybe that was fine. It made letting go easier. When she left, she wouldn't owe anyone anything.

The recovery process was excruciating, but Arabella endured every moment in silence.

Anthony came by once to talk about the divorce.

She said nothing. After a few tries, he stopped coming altogether.

The only bit of hope in those bleak days came from her rehab doctor.

"There's a new medical device overseas," he said.

"It could help you walk again. But only someone of Captain Whitehead's rank can apply for it."

Arabella hesitated for a long time before finally texting Anthony.

His reply came quickly. "Alright. I'll take you to apply."

Returning to the Criminal Investigation Unit filled her with mixed emotions.

It had once been her second home—every hallway echoing with memories of working side by side with Anthony, chasing her ideals.

Now, she was just an outsider, one who needed her ex-husband to escort her in.

He walked beside her, deliberately slowing his pace to match her wheelchair.

Just as they were about to reach the logistics office, Judith appeared.

"Captain Whitehead, Bella! What brings you two here?" she asked with her usual gentle smile.

"Are you here for a follow-up appointment? Do you need any help?"

"We're here to submit an equipment request," Anthony replied simply.

Judith naturally fell into step beside them. "Rehab equipment, right? The doctor mentioned that if we can get it approved, it'll really help Bella."

She turned to Arabella with an earnest smile. "Don't worry. The department will fully support you."

Arabella gave a small nod but didn't respond.

Her fingers curled slightly against her lap; that kind of well-meaning warmth only made her uncomfortable.

The equipment officer greeted them and reviewed the documents, but his expression soon grew uneasy.

"Captain Whitehead, Bella... I'm afraid this application can't be approved."

Anthony frowned. "Why not? We already confirmed the process was valid."

The colleague lowered his voice. "The paperwork is fine, but headquarters just issued an addendum. For specialized medical equipment brought in through this channel, top priority is reserved for immediate family members of active personnel only."

The air froze.

A chill crept up from the base of Arabella's spine.

She wasn't his family anymore.

He had signed the divorce report without hesitation.

Anthony's expression flickered. "That rule didn't exist before."

"It's new," the colleague murmured, his voice shrinking.

Just then, Judith flipped casually through the folder in her hands, and a marriage registration form with her name and Anthony's slid into view.

A single sheet of paper drove straight into Arabella's chest.

The sharp pain hit her so hard she could barely breathe.

She had lost every right to stand beside him. The person entitled to his privileges now was someone else.

Digging her nails into her palm to keep her composure, she said evenly, "I understand. Thank you."

She turned her wheelchair, ready to leave that suffocating place.

"Bella..."

Anthony instinctively reached out to stop her.

Just then, a few teammates passed by the hallway, smiling as they called out, "Captain Whitehead, Deputy Jensen, congratulations! Don't forget to invite us to your wedding!"

Their smiles froze when they noticed Arabella, the air instantly turning awkward.

The word "congratulations" landed on her like blows—reminding her how out of place she had become, a remnant of the past that no longer belonged. She started to wheel away again.

"Bella!" Judith hurried to stop her.

"We're having a small team gathering tonight. You should come too. It's been so long, and everyone misses you."

Then she turned to Anthony with a playful smile. "Right, Captain Whitehead? Let Bella join us tonight."

Anthony nodded. "Yeah, come along."

Arabella wanted to refuse. But seeing Judith's warm smile and Anthony's indifferent face, a wave of bitter self-torment rose inside her.

She gave a faint, almost detached answer. "Alright."

The dinner that night carried an unspoken tension. Everyone carefully avoided discussing work or Arabella's injured legs.

It wasn't until one of the older officers, drunk and nostalgic, sighed and said, "You know, I still miss the days when Anthony and Arabella worked together. That was the golden age of our unit."

"Yeah," another added. "You two were like a dream team dealing with that serial kidnapping case in South End. Absolute perfection!"

The memories poured out after that, the veterans reminiscing fondly.

Their voices were full of respect for the Arabella of the past.

Her fingers tightened slightly around her glass. A dull ache spread through her chest, and she quickly lowered her gaze to hide it.

Judith's voice chimed in right on cue. "Come on, Armando, that's ancient history. Bella really was amazing back then. She and Captain Whitehead were a legendary duo.

"But times have changed. Criminals today are becoming increasingly sophisticated by the minute. If we still relied on old-school methods, we'd never keep up."

She went on brightly, "Take that cross-border fraud case last month for example. Without the new criminal profiling system, there's no way we would've caught the suspect that fast."

Turning toward Anthony, her eyes glimmered with admiration.

"And it's all thanks to Captain Whitehead's quick thinking and support for new tech."

Anthony looked up, his tone cool and professional. "Technology-driven policing is the future. You've adapted well."

Judith's cheeks flushed bright red at the compliment.

"I've got a long way to go. There's this profiling expert who goes by 'Prophet.' He's a real legend. I heard he might collaborate with our system. If I ever get to learn from him, I could die happy!"

Her voice brimmed with excitement, completely unaware that the "Prophet" she so admired was sitting right across from her—the quiet, forgotten veteran, Arabella herself.

She sat quietly in the corner, listening to the lively discussion about new cases like an outsider among people she once called family.

The terminology, the case types, and even the familiar voices of her old teammates all felt foreign now.

She lowered her head and looked at her hands resting on her lap. Her fingertips were cold.

Judith's confident tone, Anthony's occasional approving responses—their effortless rhythm pierced through her like a thousand tiny needles.

Once, she had been an essential part of that same world. Now, she didn't even have the right to speak.

The veteran's words had stirred too many memories.

The South End kidnapping case had been her and Anthony's defining moment. She and Anthony stood back to back, reading each other with nothing more than a glance, and together they pulled seven hostages out of the hands of the kidnappers.

The way he used to look at her, filled with absolute trust and quiet admiration, was the same way he looked at Judith now.

Arabella lifted her glass, hiding the redness in her eyes behind a sip of water.

She couldn't let herself think about it; every memory felt like being cut open all over again.

She quietly turned her wheelchair and slipped away without a sound.

When she returned to the apartment she and Anthony had shared for five years, her emotions tangled.

The place was filled with traces of their past happiness—his clumsy late-night attempts to cook for her, her habit of curling up on the couch reviewing case files while waiting for him to come home.

Every corner still seemed to hold the warmth of what once was.

Arabella began packing her things in silence, moving slowly, as if saying goodbye to every fragment of their life together.

She hadn't expected Anthony to show up.

He stood in the doorway for a long moment before saying, "You can keep living here. The divorce was just a temporary measure, made under pressure."

Her hands froze mid-motion.

The casual words—"temporary measure"—so easily erased everything they had shared, everything she had suffered.

Without turning around, she answered calmly, "No need. This place doesn't belong to me anymore."

Before he could reply, another voice came from behind him. "Anton, why didn't you tell me you were coming back?"

Judith walked in, her gaze falling on Arabella's luggage.

"Bella, do you need help packing?"

As she spoke, her hand brushed against a photo frame on the table.

The sharp crack of breaking glass cut through the air.

It was the photo taken right after Anthony proposed.

In the photo, he was holding her tightly, both of them laughing, glowing with happiness.

Judith gasped and crouched down quickly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to!"

Flustered, she grabbed at the shards, and a sliver of glass sliced her finger, drawing blood.

"Don't move!"

Anthony's face darkened. He rushed forward, taking her hand with urgent concern.

"How could you be so careless? Does it hurt?"

He practically half-carried her toward the bathroom. "Let's clean this up first."

Not once did he glance at the shattered photo on the floor or at Arabella, frozen in place.

Her hands trembled as she slid from the wheelchair and brushed the glass fragments off the picture.

The smiles in the photo were as bright as ever, but now, they felt like they mocked her.

His tenderness toward Judith, his complete disregard for the memory that once defined their love. It was a cruel contrast.

In that moment, Arabella finally understood that some things, once broken, could never be put back together.

She took a deep breath, placed the photo at the bottom of her suitcase, and wheeled herself out the door without looking back.

Arabella rented a small apartment, enduring the pain in her leg as she underwent rehabilitation, while also communicating with Chandler about rejoining the team.

On this day, just before hanging up the phone, Chandler mentioned a recent case from the Criminal Investigation Unit.

"Anthony and his team have hit a bottleneck..."

It had been a long time since Arabella heard that name, and she felt a bit dazed.

She logged onto the forum and saw many discussions about the case, but a few pinned comments made her hand pause on the mouse.

"The Criminal Investigation Unit has been on this case for almost a month, and there's still no progress."

"Sigh, don't even mention it. Ever since Arabella left the team five years ago and the Investigative Duo fell apart, the Criminal Investigation Unit has been going downhill."

"The new tech guy isn't up to par, it's all just for show."

These comments left her with mixed feelings, but she still clicked on the case details.

Several explosions had occurred in South End in quick succession. The methods were crude, but one photo from the scene made Arabella's pupils contract sharply.

It was identical to the markings at the scene of the case that had left her severely injured five years ago!

And every case had a victim who was sacrificed!

The nightmare from five years ago returned, but as she looked at the ever-increasing numbers on the casualty list.

The sense of duty ingrained in her bones overwhelmed her fear.

She forced herself to calm down and, using the scene photos and other information, worked through the night to create a criminal profile.

Although she couldn't participate in the investigation directly, she still sent the key information anonymously to Anthony's private email.

A few days later, someone on the forum revealed that the case had made a breakthrough and an arrest operation was being deployed.

Arabella looked at the screen, and a smile unconsciously appeared at the corner of her mouth.

Being able to stop evil and protect innocent people made her feel alive.

What made her even happier was that, with the help of newly introduced equipment, her leg would soon be fully recovered.

After her final rehabilitation session, the doctor escorted her to the door.

"Your leg is completely healed. Starting tomorrow, you can try not to use the wheelchair and walk as much as possible."

Arabella smiled in response, but her gaze was drawn to the large screen behind the doctor.

On the screen, Anthony was presenting an honor to Judith.

Their police uniforms made both of them look tall and elegant, a perfect match.

The doctor tilted his head slightly and remarked, "I heard this deputy team leader is quite impressive. He hasn't been on the team long, but he's already earned a personal commendation. Young people are truly remarkable."

On the screen, Anthony's voice came through the microphone: "Thanks to Comrade Judith for sending me the crucial evidence via email, we were able to..."

Hearing this, Arabella was stunned. The information Anthony mentioned was what she had sent him.

How did it become Judith's achievement?

Even if others didn't know, how could he not know that only she had access to that email?

Or had he already shared everything that was uniquely hers with Judith?

Her ears were filled with passersby praising Judith.

An indescribable emotion surged in her heart. She turned her wheelchair and fled in panic.

But just as she was about to reach home, her mouth and nose were covered, and her consciousness quickly faded.

When she woke up, the familiar musty smell made Arabella instantly alert, her pupils contracting sharply.

She could never forget this basement!

Five years ago, it was here that the explosion shattered her life into pieces!

She struggled to sit up, discovering that her hands were tied behind her back.

In the dim light, Arabella saw Judith, also tied up, not far away.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Arabella forced down her emotions, doing her best to stay calm.

Judith shook her head, trembling: "Bella, where are we? How did we end up here?"

"It must be revenge."

Arabella answered while searching for a possible exit, "The case from five years ago might be connected to the recent explosions. We've become targets."

Outside, faint footsteps could be heard, mixed with Anthony's anxious shouts.

"Arabella! Judith! Are you in there?"

"We're here!" Arabella shouted back, moving Judith closer to her. "I'll untie you first, then you help me."

Judith's knots were untied.

But she fumbled, unable to untie Arabella's ropes no matter what.

Until Arabella realized something had been tied to her hands.

"Arabella, why do you always have to stand in my way?" Judith's tone had lost its earlier fear, replaced by hatred. "Five years ago, you survived by sheer luck. I wonder if you'll be so fortunate this time?"

The ticking of the countdown sounded unbearably sharp in the silent basement.

In an instant, Arabella understood everything, and it felt as if the blood in her veins had frozen.

"You're insane! You're actually working with the killer? Those people are innocent!"

"They're innocent, but am I not?" Judith sneered. "I worked so hard, but in their eyes, it's always you! Whether it's Anthony or anyone else! Why?"

Listening to Judith's accusations, Arabella felt a chill seep through her entire body.

Anthony's shouts were close by. Just as she was about to speak, Judith covered her mouth.

"If you make a sound now, I'll detonate the bomb immediately. We'll all die together!"

Arabella's eyes widened, the bomb in her hand burning with a terrifying heat.

"By the way, there are others in the next room—the innocent people you spoke of. The choice is yours, Arabella."

"Will it be just you who dies, or..."

Judith's sinister words sent a chill down Arabella's spine, silencing the truth she was about to reveal.

A wave of helplessness crashed over her. The light so close, Anthony's anxious calls—all of it threatened to crush her.

After a long moment, she slowly closed her eyes.

Satisfied with her reaction, Judith released her hand, then hurriedly ran toward the exit, throwing herself into Anthony's arms.

"Bella is working with the kidnappers! She's involved in all these cases! She even tried to kill me..."

Anthony's body stiffened, instinctively refuting, "Impossible!"

"Tick—tick—"

The countdown of the bomb was especially clear in the silent basement.

Anthony's expression changed. He strode toward her, but was stopped by a teammate.

"Since she's working with the kidnappers, she must know how to defuse the bomb. Captain Whitehead—Captain Whitehead, don't let her fool you!"

The wariness and alienation in their eyes were like daggers, piercing through Arabella's last shred of hope.

Those who once shared life and death with her now treated her as if she were a venomous snake.

Judith sobbed uncontrollably: "Anton, let's go. Bella is no longer the person she used to be..."

A teammate tugged at Anthony's arm, shouting, "Come on, let's go!"

"There are injured civilians outside who need to be evacuated. We have to leave now!"

In the end, Anthony gave her a long, deep look.

Then he turned away, shielding Judith, and quickly led his teammates out.

His resolute figure disappeared from her sight just like that.

In the basement, only Arabella remained, along with the increasingly urgent ticking in her hand.

A faint, bitter smile appeared on her face.

She had been abandoned once again.

Perhaps it was for the best. With feelings and an identity like this... everything should come to an end.

Arabella lowered her head, looking at the familiar bomb in her hand. It was exactly the same as the one from five years ago, with a structure she had come to know by heart.

She worked quickly and precisely on the wiring, and the countdown suddenly sped up.

But there was not a trace of panic on her face.

As the countdown entered its final seconds, Arabella summoned all her strength and climbed into the ventilation duct.

"Goodbye, Anthony."

"Goodbye, past."

"Boom!!!"

Just as Anthony and the others had evacuated all the civilians, a deafening explosion erupted. A massive fireball filled their vision, the entire basement shook violently, and even the nearby sea was stirred into waves.

In an instant, everything was consumed by the raging fire—including Arabella.