I ran into a serial killer on my way to my twin sister's birthday party.

As the police captain's wife, I protected my husband Calvin McMullen's whereabouts until my very last breath.

He ignored my call for help.

Told everyone I was “being dramatic.”

While I was tortured to death, however, Calvin was celebrating my sister's birthday.

That night, the darkness had settled in, and someone mentioned I was afraid of the dark.

Calvin just scoffed, "I'm the police captain, and she's my wife. She should face her fears and get here on her own."

But Calvin, I died. I couldn't make it.

***

At 7 p.m., in the Platinum Hotel, San Francisco.

The banquet hall buzzed with clinking glasses and lively chatter. Calvin checked his watch, his expression hardening.

"Ten more minutes. If Whitney still hasn't shown up, we'll start without her."

A close friend spoke up, "Calvin, I remember Whitney's afraid of the dark, right? Shouldn't you pick her up?"

He frowned. "Why would I? I'm the police captain, and she's my wife. She should face her fears and get here on her own."

The indifference on his face cut through me like a blade.

He had no idea I was already there—standing beside him, my body covered in gashes and blood, exactly as I looked when I died.

I gazed at him and whispered, my voice light as a breeze, "Calvin, I can't make it."

An hour earlier, I had been stabbed dozens of times, my heart carved out.

My last thought before everything went dark was—would Calvin feel relieved when he knew that I was dead?

He married me only because I'd lost hearing in my left ear while saving him. It was never about love.

My twin sister, Georgia Lawrence, was the one he wanted.

And this party was for her.

Soon, the clock struck eight.

Calvin set down his glass and looked at Georgia.

Without hesitation, he said, "Gia, time to cut the cake."

Watching him walk side by side with Georgia toward the cake, I felt a lump in my throat.

But my soul instinctively drifted after him.

Just as they sliced into the cake, Calvin's phone rang.

An urgent voice came through.

"Captain McMullen, we found body parts in a trash can next to Shop No. 96 on Maple Road!"

My heart lurched.

That spot was only a block away.

Calvin's face turned cold and stern. "On my way."

Watching him leave in a hurry, I followed him out.

Minutes later, he ducked under the police tape.

A black garbage bag sat on the ground, still oozing blood.

Calvin put on a mask and gloves, stepped over, and opened it.

After just a glance, he turned his head away.

An intern nearby stumbled back and retched uncontrollably.

Floating above them, I felt ice spread through my veins.

I knew without a doubt—it was me in that bag.

The forensic investigator lowered his eyes, as if pained by what he saw.

"Time of death was within the last two hours, but there are no identifiable features.

"Captain, the M.O. matches the recent serial dismemberment cases. We may need to request a joint investigation."

Calvin put the bag away and walked out.

"Get the remains back to the station. This case is too appalling. We have to solve it before there's another victim."

He got into the car with his team, their faces grim.

Someone broke the silence. "Captain, how was Mrs. McMullen's birthday party today?"

Resting his head on his hand, Calvin replied casually, "She didn't show up. Gia was there."

Another voice chimed in, "Mrs. McMullen is kind of delicate. You might want to smooth things over."

Calvin's expression darkened.

"As the family of a police officer, she doesn't have the luxury of being delicate."

The indifference in his eyes stabbed what was left of my heart.

The car fell quiet.

Someone else changed the subject. "Captain, the killer seems to target women in their twenties. You should warn your family."

The words snapped me back. I watched as Calvin pulled out his phone after a moment's thought.

Then he clicked a contact and dialed without hesitation.

"Gia, don't go anywhere after the party. I'll take you home."

I looked at him, disappointment swelling like a tide.

"So, Calvin," I whispered, "in your heart, only Georgia is your family, right?"

Soon, the car pulled up at the station. Calvin strode into his office, others following.

Within ten minutes, someone hurried in.

"Captain McMullen, we found something belonging to the victim while processing the remains."

When I saw what was in the transparent evidence bag, my heart raced.

It was the starlight bracelet I wore every day!

The silver gleam stung my eyes.

It was a gift from Calvin on our first wedding anniversary.

I hadn't expected him to remember, but he came home that day.

He placed the bag in my hand and said naturally, "Happy anniversary."

The gentleness in his eyes that day stayed with me, clear even now.

I couldn't help but look at him.

Faced with such an obvious clue, how would he react?

He stared at the bracelet intently, frowning.

"The profile says this killer is too careful to leave something this obvious behind.

"Look into the target demographic and customer records for this bracelet. Leave no stone unturned."

The officers moved into action.

I stood there as they passed through my spirit, almost scattering me into nothing.

Calvin didn't recognize the bracelet?

I had never taken it off from the day he gave it to me.

I was even clutching it when the killer cut out my heart.

Now the harsh truth hit me—what I treasured meant nothing to him.

Suddenly, I wanted to cry, but a spirit had no tears.

Calvin stayed in his office, reviewing files from the serial murder case.

Photo after photo, each more brutal than the last. The fury in his eyes grew.

Near midnight, a call from Georgia cut through the haze of smoke in the office.

The ringtone snapped Calvin back. He pinched the bridge of his nose and answered.

I heard Georgia clearly. "Cal, how much longer will you be?"

Calvin's gaze turned cold at once.

Because of his job, it was normal for him to work through the night.

He'd made it clear to me—"When I'm working, don't call or text no matter what."

Just as I thought he'd snap at her or tell her to go home alone, his gentle voice rang out.

"I'm sorry. I lost track of time going over the files. I'll be right there."

Watching him leave without hesitation, I felt an overwhelming heartache—that was, if I still had a heart.

So, it was never about not wanting to be disturbed.

It was because I was Whitney, not Georgia, the woman he loved.

In a daze, I followed him back to the banquet hall.

It was still brightly lit, though the guests had gone. Georgia sat in a corner, looking harmless and pitiful.

"Cal, finally!"

She beamed when she saw him and threw herself into his arms.

He steadied her, then gently pushed her back. "Have you been drinking?"

His caring tone, his gentle words, the way his hand reached out and withdrew—it all made me tremble.

I'd studied behavioral psychology once just to have something to talk about with him.

That was how I knew his behavior meant he was holding back his feelings for her.

Right then, even the air tasted bitter.

Georgia was stunned by his reaction. She looked up, tears in her eyes.

"Cal, don't you want me anymore? Or have you fallen for Whitney?

"If it weren't for her, I would've been your wife long ago! I won't allow you to love her!"

Our parents had always been at odds, and both Georgia and I grew up with our own scars.

I was autistic, and she had bipolar disorder.

And the child who demanded attention usually got it—our parents always focused more on her than me.

Now she tugged at her hair tightly, drawing Calvin's attention.

"Whitney took that note. Otherwise, she never would've been there to shield you from the gas explosion!

"If I had been there that day, I wouldn't have let you get hurt either!"

Calvin pulled her into his arms, his eyes full of distress.

"Calm down, Gia. Stop hurting yourself!"

The sight of them holding each other made my spirit ache.

Calvin had never been that anxious over me.

Georgia slumped against him, crying bitterly, "Cal, you promised you'd divorce her. You can't go back on your word."

I looked straight at Calvin.

A complicated emotion flashed in his eyes.

Then he said, "I won't."

Calvin had told Georgia he would divorce me?

My mind went blank, my spirit feeling ripped apart by the raging wind outside.

His promise seemed to calm Georgia. She finally settled down.

He let her go and said gently, "Let's go. With all the crime lately, I'll drive you and check the security at your place."

He was so attentive. Watching him, I couldn't help but smile bitterly.

"Calvin, do you know the lock at our place has been broken for weeks?"

Since marrying him, I'd hardly ever troubled him with things at home.

Before the wedding, he'd said, "Whitney, being a police officer's wife is tough. Think it through—are you sure you want to marry me?"

Back then, I was just happy to be with him.

I'd answered without hesitation, "Yes, of course. I want to be part of a police family.

"I only ask one thing—that when you're out on a mission, you remember I'm waiting for you at home."

It wasn't far from the hotel to my family's home, but the trip felt endless.

I was exhausted in every way.

After dropping Georgia off, Calvin finally headed to our place.

It took him a long time to manage the broken lock.

Inside, it was pitch dark. He frowned and flipped the switch.

The light was glaring. I turned away, only to see the handwritten wedding vow framed on the wall.

Memories rushed back.

It was a tradition from my hometown, one Calvin had honored by writing those promises himself for our wedding.

The handwriting was a little uneven, clearly out of place in our minimalist home.

But I could never bring myself to take it down.

Calvin noticed the frame, too. He stared at it, his expression filled with displeasure.

Then he lifted it off the wall and dropped it into the trash.

At that moment, the last shred of hope inside me shattered.

Calvin walked to the bedroom. As he entered, his eyes landed on our wedding photo on the wall.

He paused briefly, then pulled out his phone and opened our chat.

"Whitney, are you on a business trip? Why didn't you tell me?"

His emotionless questions stung.

Standing beside him, I said quietly, "Calvin, I told you last month I wasn't traveling for work anymore."

I remembered—he'd nodded at the time. Clearly, nothing I said ever stayed with him.

Calvin washed up and lay down. Just then, his phone chimed again.

The caller's voice was jarring in the quiet night.

"Captain McMullen, the preliminary autopsy report is in.

"The victim was twenty-six years old, with thirty-two knife wounds, six of them fatal.

"Her abdomen was stabbed repeatedly with a sharp object—possible rage or overkill. Also...

"Dr. Trevino found a formed fetus inside the victim's body."

Even as a spirit, I felt a pain so deep it threatened to suffocate me.

I looked at Calvin, whose expression darkened instantly.

I forced sound from my throat. "Calvin... That was ... our baby..."

I was dead, yet somehow my mouth filled with the taste of metal.

A flicker of pity passed through Calvin's eyes, quickly replaced by controlled rage.

He grabbed his coat. "I'll be right there."

I followed him to the station's autopsy room in a trance.

I covered my mouth when I saw the embryo on the table.

It was my baby... He had developed a head and tiny limbs. He should have been safe and grown up happy.

He shouldn't have ended up like this—on a cold table, bruised and lifeless, beside my headless body.

In that moment, I finally felt regret.

Why did I go out when I knew I wasn't the one Calvin wanted to celebrate?

Why did I stubbornly insist on going to a birthday party that was never meant for me, even though I knew I wasn't the one Calvin loved?

I drifted to the table, staring at my baby, my eyes burning.

"I'm sorry, baby... This is all my fault..."

Everyone in the autopsy room stared at the two bodies—one large, one small—in complete silence.

After what felt like forever, Calvin's phone chimed, breaking the stillness. He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked out as he answered.

"Stefanie, I told you—if there's something, call Whitney, not me."

I was stunned.

Stefanie Pruitt was my only close friend since childhood.

Her panicked voice came through. "Calvin, I can't reach Whitty. Something's happened to her."

Calvin's voice turned cold. "What makes you say that?"

She raised her voice. "Because the last text she sent me only had two words.

"'Help me.'"

Stefanie's words instantly dragged me right back to that horrible night.

A tidal wave of fear shot through my spirit.

That night, when I sensed someone following me, I called Calvin right away.

My hands were shaking, my palms sweaty.

But all I got was his cold voicemail. "The person you are trying to reach is not available..."

The moment the killer choked me from behind, I managed to send the text to Stefanie.

But just as I hit send, the cold blade plunged into me.

I lost my grip, my phone clattering away. All I could do was endure stab after stab...

The pain before dying still made my spirit tremble.

Frowning, Calvin said in a low voice, "Take a screenshot of the text and send it to me."

Stefanie hung up and sent it over WhatsApp within a minute.

Calvin stared at the two words—"Help me"—with no punctuation, and then his gaze fell upon the date—July 18th, 2023.

His expression finally turned serious.

He opened his call log and saw a missed call from me. The timestamp showed it was just three minutes before I messaged Stefanie.

His face went still, and then he dialed my number.

Looking at his grim expression, I said, my voice hoarse, "Calvin, no one will answer..."

But before I could finish, the call connected.

I froze, shocked.

Calvin pressed his lips into a thin line. After a moment, he spoke, his voice cold, "Are you enjoying this, Whitney? Playing games with Stefanie?"

His tone was pure accusation. "If you're tired of being a cop's wife, just say so.

"I'm busy. Don't try to get my attention with stunts like this."

Looking at his cold, stern profile, I felt my eyes burn.

"It's not me, Calvin. Someone took my phone. Maybe it's the killer."

But Calvin, of course, couldn't hear me. Whoever picked up stayed silent and hung up.

The anger in Calvin's eyes felt like it could scorch my soul.

As he turned to leave, I drifted after him, desperately trying to explain.

"I'd never hang up on you, Calvin.

"Yes, I have autism, but I respond to you at all times.

"The last thing I want is to upset you. Why would I ever try to annoy you?"

Saying it out loud, I suddenly stopped.

Only then did I realize—from the day I fell for Calvin, I'd always been the one trying to please him, to accommodate him.

But him? After a strange call that was completely out of character for me, he didn't feel a single doubt.

Looking at his retreating back, I shook my head with a bitter smile.

"Even if I were alive, you probably wouldn't have believed me anyway."

A deep sense of powerlessness washed over me, and I gave up trying to explain.

I drifted silently beside him as he walked back to his office.

In front of us stood a large whiteboard covered with photos of the victims from the serial murder case.

As my eyes moved over those horrifying images, I felt a chill.

There were six innocent female victims in total, including me.

But I was the only one whose head had been cut off.

Were they just as desperate and helpless as I was before they died?

I kept looking. Then, at one photo, my breath caught.

It showed a small, blue-and-gold metal badge.

It was from a user meet-up for a specific mobile app.

I recognized it because I'd been to one.

I turned to Calvin, pointing at the photo, and said firmly, "Calvin, this is the link!"

These past few days, I'd watched them go over the case.

The hardest part was that, besides being women, the victims seemed to have nothing in common. It looked like the killer was striking at random.

But this badge—this was the connection.

I drifted frantically in front of the whiteboard, wishing I could stir up a breeze, knock that photo down, make him see it.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get Calvin to notice.

Finally, dejected, I stopped. Just then, someone pushed the office door open.

Robin Trevino, the medical examiner, walked up to Calvin.

Under Calvin's questioning look, he said, "Captain McMullen, I ran the DNA from the fetus through the database.

"Here's the strange part. According to the results, the biological father of the fetus ... is you."

The office fell dead silent.

Calvin frowned deeply, confusion flickering in his eyes.

Then he said firmly, "That's impossible.

"The victim isn't Whitney. I just spoke to her. And..."

His cold gaze swept over Robin's curious face.

"Even though I've never loved her, I wouldn't stoop so low as to cheat on her."

The words "I've never loved her" hit me hard, leaving my ears ringing.

I felt like a broken doll, flooded with endless pain and bewilderment.

I looked deeply at him.

My voice was utterly broken as I said, "If you never loved me, why give me false hope?

"Why tell me 'Sorry I got you worried' every time you came back from a mission?

"Why give me a birthday gift every year and say 'Happy birthday'?

"Before we got married, I asked you if you really wanted to marry me. Why did you say yes?"

It was because of those small signs that, even knowing he loved Georgia, I'd still foolishly hoped he might change his heart one day.

The urge to laugh and cry warred inside me, threatening to tear my spirit apart.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I could only float there.

After a few seconds of silence, Robin said slowly, "Alright.

"If you're sure Mrs. McMullen is fine, I'll run the data again.

"Oh, and before I forget—don't miss next month's family gathering for officers' spouses."

I stared blankly as Robin left.

A family gathering for officers' spouses? Calvin had never mentioned it.

Just as I looked back at Calvin, he pulled out his phone and called Georgia.

"There's a family event for officers' spouses next month. Are you free?"

I understood everything in that instant.

Then his expression changed.

"What? Which hospital? Which room? I'll be right there."

The nervous look on his face sent a chill through me.

Anytime it was about Georgia, he dropped everything without a second thought.

I could only be dragged along with him to the hospital.

He pushed open the room door and saw Georgia with her leg in a cast.

Hearing the sound, she turned, looking surprised. "Cal? I told you not to come. I can manage on my own."

Calvin walked to her bedside. The concern in his eyes burned my soul.

Last winter, during a deep freeze, the roads iced over. On my way home on my scooter, I slipped and fell, breaking my wrist.

As I lay in the snow, in so much pain I couldn't get up, I called Calvin tentatively.

"I fell on the road. Could you come get me?"

And what did he say? "I'm busy with a case. Figure it out yourself." His voice was so cold and detached.

That day, I lay on the icy curb and watched the sky grow dark, struggling to call an ambulance.

Now that I recalled it, my eyes stung, my vision blurring.

"So, Calvin," I whispered, "you do know how to care for someone."

I didn't want to watch anymore. As I started to drift back, his slow, gentle voice reached me.

"You're still afraid of the dark, right? I'll stay here with you. I'll leave after you fall asleep."

I paused.

Both Georgia and I had been neglected as kids, so we shared a lot of fears—the dark was one of them.

But Calvin had never seemed to care if I was scared while being home alone.

Only Georgia's fears seemed to matter to him.

Georgia smiled and shook her head, "Go home, Cal. You won't get any rest here."

But he sat down in the chair by her bed.

"It's fine. When I was badly injured last year, you took care of me in the hospital, remember?"

My eyes widened.

Calvin had been on countless missions, but the only time he'd been seriously hurt was about six months ago.

I still remembered how dangerous it had been.

He'd been stabbed in the abdomen, gone into shock from blood loss. He was unconscious for four whole days...

The soft look in his eyes as he watched Georgia made me speak up, my voice a hollow whisper only I could hear.

"Calvin... I was the one who took care of you back then..."

My voice drifted through the room, but Calvin couldn't hear it.

He looked intently at Georgia, his tone gentle. "No matter what, it's only right that I look after you."

A flicker of panic crossed Georgia's eyes, and she quickly changed the subject.

"Cal, I just remembered... I didn't see Whitney at the party that day. Where was she?"

Calvin's expression turned cold. "She's an adult. I don't have to keep tabs on her every move."

His indifference cut deep.

Keep tabs on me? We'd been married three years. Had he ever once kept tabs on me?

Just then, the door swung open.

I turned instinctively and saw Stefanie's furious face.

"Calvin, Whitty is missing. I can't believe you're sitting here comforting Georgia!

"And that time you were badly injured—it was Whitty who took care of you, day and night, without rest! Georgia's taking credit for everything!"

Stefanie trembled with anger.

"Whitty copied all those study notes Georgia 'gave' you back in high school. She stayed up countless nights doing it.

"And the knee pads and wrist guards you used during training in college? Whitty picked every single one.

"Ask yourself, Calvin. All these years, has Whitty ever let you down?

"How could you do this to her?"

Watching Stefanie defend me so desperately, I felt a rush of warmth.

The day she learned I was autistic, she'd said, "Don't be afraid, Whitty. From now on, I've got you."

All these years, she'd kept that promise—just like now.

Calvin's icy eyes held only doubt. "What are you talking about?

"If any of that were true, why didn't Whitney ever tell me?"

His gaze darkened. "She knew if she'd given me those things herself, I never would've accepted them."

Stefanie choked on his words, her face flushed with anger.

He continued, "And you claim she's missing? Give me a break, Stefanie. Aren't you tired of playing along with her little games?

"If something really happened to her, how could she have answered my call?"

He stood and walked toward her, his voice cold. "Get out. Gia needs to rest."

Stefanie glared at him, spitting out coldly, "Calvin, you're going to regret this sooner or later."

She turned to leave, and I followed.

Once out of the room, she stopped.

All her earlier fierceness was gone. Her shoulders slumped, and she wiped her eyes.

"I'm glad Whitty wasn't there. That jerk would've made her cry again..."

A wave of bitterness washed over me.

I raised my hand to pat her shoulder like I always had, but my fingers passed right through her.

I could only watch her walk away while I stayed trapped in place.

I floated there dejectedly, only turning back toward the room after she disappeared from sight.

As I entered, I heard Georgia's voice.

"Cal, are you sure you aren't going to talk to Whitney about the gathering?"

Calvin's expression was dark. "She has autism. She can't even hold a conversation properly. I doubt she'd handle that occasion well."

I smiled bitterly.

Yes, I was autistic, but not to the extent Calvin made it sound.

After we married, I'd learned from him that children whose parents were killed often ended up in the state foster system.

So, every National Police Week, I signed up to volunteer at a group home.

Georgia came over during our first year of marriage.

She pulled me into the kitchen while Calvin was in the living room.

"Whitney, I know you're going to the group home tomorrow. Why don't you stay there for a couple of days? Otherwise, people might think the captain's wife is just there for the photo op."

Glancing at Calvin's frown over his case files, I agreed without hesitation.

I'd do anything to make things easier for him.

So, when he later asked if I was free during National Police Week, I instinctively said no.

Looking back now, it was just another one of Georgia's tricks.

And from then on, Calvin never mentioned the gathering again.

I looked at him, frustrated.

How many misunderstandings had piled up between us?

In the early morning hours, after Georgia fell asleep, Calvin finally left.

The next day, as he entered the station, he nearly bumped into a girl around eighteen.

"Captain McMullen!"

Seeing her bright, smiling face, I was stunned. "Lottie?"

Calvin studied her for a few seconds and remembered—she'd lost her parents in a homicide case.

His expression softened. "Lottie, what brings you here?"

Charlotte Mitchell handed him an acceptance letter. "Captain McMullen, I got into Stanford University! I came to thank you."

Calvin looked stunned. "Thank me?"

She seemed surprised, too.

"You didn't know? Whitty's been sponsoring the group home in both your names for the past three years.

"And every National Police Week, she joins the volunteer team to spend time with us. She never misses it."

Calvin went completely still at Charlotte's words.

I couldn't help but smile bitterly as I noticed the shift in his eyes.

"Surprise, Calvin. I'm not as bad as you think," I muttered.

Calvin's gaze dropped to the acceptance letter. He said nothing for a moment, then looked back at Charlotte.

"Congratulations. I hope you have a bright, smooth road ahead."

After a hesitation, Charlotte asked, "Captain McMullen, on move-in day... Could you and Whitty see me off to campus?"

He nodded without pause. "Sure."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? You're not joking?"

He offered a smile. "I mean it."

Clutching the acceptance letter, she smiled and waved, "OK then. I'll look forward to it!"

Watching her step into the sunlight, I felt that familiar ache.

"Lottie, I'm sorry... I don't think I can be there," I whispered.

As I followed Calvin to his office, one of his team members leaned in.

"Captain McMullen, so that's why Mrs. McMullen never came to the yearly gathering. She's so kind."

Calvin glanced at the officer's admiring expression, his gaze turning cold.

"Who knows? Maybe it was all just an act."

I stared at him in disbelief, wondering if I'd heard him right.

A heavy darkness swallowed me, making it hard to breathe.

In that moment, my soul felt colder than Antarctic snow.

"Calvin, would you ever believe me, even once?" I muttered, staring at him.

When Calvin pushed open his office door, he was met with thick smoke.

His team members looked up, eyes bloodshot from being up all night. "We found something, Captain McMullen."

He walked over and sat down. In front of him was a photo of the badge.

"It's a prize from an app developer's event. All six victims participated in this offline activity at some point."

The officer's expression was grim. "Chances are, our killer is mentally disturbed. If that's true, the odds of him striking again are high."

Calvin's face darkened, too. "Dumping bodies in crowded areas... He's taunting us.

"For a bigger thrill, he might very well go after our families."

The atmosphere in the office grew heavy.

He stared at the photo, his tone urgent. "Everyone, call your families now. No one goes anywhere alone until we catch this guy."

"Yes, Captain!"

After giving instructions, Calvin pulled out his phone and texted me.

"Whitney, this is a critical time. Wherever you are, come home now."

Then he drove off.

Following him, I recognized the surroundings more and more and began to tremble.

Why was he going back to the crime scene?

Officers were still stationed there. He walked over and asked, "Notice anything missing?"

One officer shook his head. "We found a cabin in the woods nearby. All doors and windows were locked.

"But the owner had a forest ranger's ID."

Calvin pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice low. "I'll take a look."

The moment he stepped into the woods, a chill shot down my spine.

It felt like being watched by a predator.

Calvin seemed to feel it, too. His sharp gaze swept the dense trees.

With his right hand resting near his waist, he strode forward.

I hurried to stand in front of him. "Don't go over there, Calvin!"

But of course, I couldn't stop him.

As he passed through my spirit, he suddenly froze.

"Whitney?"

Stunned, I turned. He was staring at something, his face pale.

Hanging from a branch was an employee ID badge.

My photo was printed on it, slowly spinning in the wind...

Instantly, Calvin's expression changed.

He strode over and yanked the badge down, his eyes grim.

Rage burned in them as he marched back to the crime scene.

"You've been here three days, and no one noticed this?"

The officers looked over, stunned.

Someone said, "Captain McMullen, I swear it wasn't there when we searched."

The air went silent.

A flicker of fear crossed everyone's face.

They all realized the same thing—after the murder, the killer had returned.

Calvin's expression darkened completely. "Check all surrounding surveillance. Take this badge back for prints."

As he strode toward his car, I whispered, "So, Calvin, you do care about me after all?"

But my question would never be answered.

He drove to the company where I worked.

Standing outside the building, he suddenly stopped.

Then he pulled out his phone and called Stefanie.

He sounded almost flustered. "Which floor is Whitney's company on?"

I faintly caught Stefanie's sneer on the other end of the line.

Noticing the embarrassment flash in his eyes, I suddenly wanted to laugh.

We'd been married three years, and I could walk to his office with my eyes closed.

But he didn't even know what floor my company was on.

How absurd.

Calvin entered the building and approached the front desk.

"Hi, I'm Calvin McMullen from the Detective Division. We're looking for Whitney Lawrence. Do you know where she is?"

The receptionist paled instantly. She waved her hands nervously. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea.

"Whitney hasn't shown up for work in three days. We can't reach her by phone. She's going to be let go."

Calvin's face tightened. "Three days?"

The time of the murder was also three days ago.

Watching him press his lips together, I breathed a shaky sigh.

Was he finally about to learn the truth?

Just as he was about to ask more, his phone buzzed.

It was Georgia.

Her voice came through clearly. "Cal, check Whitney's Instagram!"

Calvin frowned, then opened the app.

The latest post was a photo of me standing by the ocean, my back to the camera. The caption read, "Enjoying peace, no matter when."

Next to Calvin, I was frozen in shock and fear.

It wasn't me—but it looked exactly like me.

The most terrifying part was that it had been posted three minutes ago.

The thought that someone had faked the photo and posted it from my phone sent a chill through me.

If I weren't a spirit floating right beside Calvin, even I might have fallen for it.

Calvin put his phone away, his eyes burning with rage.

"Whitney... Why did I even bother worrying?"

His harsh words carved right through me.

Just then, a comment under "my" post appeared on his screen.

Stefanie: "As long as you're safe and sound, Whitty."

In that moment, I couldn't find any words for what I felt.

Calvin stormed out of the building and returned to the station.

The moment he stepped into his office, an officer at the computer looked up.

"Perfect timing, Captain McMullen. I just pulled the participant list from that offline activity."

He paused, his tone serious. "Mrs. McMullen's name is on it. I think you should contact her—"

Before he could finish, Calvin cut him off.

"Whitney's perfectly safe. Keep digging. Focus on the others."

After Calvin finished speaking, he went straight into his own office.

A criminal investigator who was close to him followed him inside.

"Captain McMullen, what's going on? Why are you so angry? Did you have a fight with your wife?"

Calvin pressed his temples, his deep eyes full of dissatisfaction: "Get out. Let me be alone for a while."

I stood at the doorway, watching his cold and displeased expression, not daring to stay by his side.

The words Calvin blurted out in the company made me realize for the first time just how much he was dissatisfied with me.

I couldn't help but turn around and look at the people coming and going around me, feeling a bit lost inside.

This was Calvin's daily life; he rushed back and forth for so many people.

I had always been proud of him, but...

I lowered my eyes and whispered to myself, "But I have never been one of those people."

I didn't know how long I had been standing there. When I finally looked up again, I saw through the second-floor window a man in a black long coat standing across the street.

An endless terror gripped my heart so tightly that I could barely breathe.

That man... was the murderer!

I was frozen in place, as if something was holding my feet, making it impossible for me to move even half a step.

It felt as if my entire soul had been thrown into icy water, cold from the inside out.

"Calvin... Calvin!"

When I called his name, it was as if I had broken free from some restraint. I turned and rushed inside.

"Calvin! The murderer is right outside the police station, he..."

But in the next second, my words were stuck in my throat.

Calvin was sitting in front of the computer, and on the open document before him, four glaring words stood out.

Divorce Agreement!

My soul seemed to sway uncontrollably.

Pain washed over me like a tide, drowning me.

At that moment, the office door was knocked: "Captain McMullen, we've traced the origin of that bracelet."

Calvin's brows furrowed, and he stood up immediately, heading out: "Let's go ask directly."

KR Jewelry.

I followed Calvin inside, where members of the Detective Division were already investigating.

Calvin walked over and asked in a deep voice, "Is there any purchase record that matches the victim's list?"

No one answered.

Calvin frowned and was about to speak when a criminal investigator spoke up hesitantly.

"Captain McMullen, the only purchase record related to the case here—the customer is you."

Calvin's pupils contracted, and he instinctively took the purchase list.

The first name that caught his eye was Calvin.

The date was May 17th, three years ago.

Our wedding anniversary.

The criminal investigator spoke in a heavy tone: "Captain McMullen, did you give this bracelet to your wife?"

As soon as the words fell, I clearly saw Calvin's expression change.

He took out his phone and immediately dialed my number.

But this time, no one answered.

Calvin's face darkened sharply. He was about to leave when a store clerk called out to him.

"Are you Mr. McMullen?"

Calvin turned around, a sharp look in his eyes: "What's the matter? Do you have a clue to offer?"

The clerk quickly shook his head: "No, you ordered a pair of rings from our store five years ago, but you never came to pick them up."

Rings? Five years ago?

When the clerk took out the pair of rings, the initials engraved on them instantly pierced my heart.

M&L.

Five years ago, Calvin and I could barely exchange a few words. That pair of rings was custom-made for Georgia...

My gaze slowly fell on the ring finger of my right hand, but all I saw was emptiness.

When Calvin and I got married, both the wedding and the rings were as ordinary as could be.

He didn't put any effort into it.

Calvin looked at the wedding rings the clerk had taken out, and his expression changed as well.

He then took the rings and put them in his pocket, striding out.

A member of the Detective Division watched his back and subconsciously muttered, "Captain McMullen's mood seems a bit off..."

I followed Calvin to the door, and his phone rang again.

The melodious ringtone, which should have been pleasant, sounded like a death knell in my ears.

Calvin answered the call with a grim face.

A voice full of panic came from the other end.

"Captain McMullen, the fingerprints we found on your wife's work badge match the partial fingerprints of the deceased!"

"We are eighty percent sure that the deceased is Whitney!"