Chapter 1

"Charles, save me..."

I hid in a crumbling alley, trying to endure the pain, and called him.

However, on the other end of the line, I heard Charles' frustrated voice. "Lucinda, are you done causing trouble? I've already married you, as per your grandfather's will. What more do you want?"

"Charles, I... I'm not joking. Please... hurry up and save me..."

Today was supposed to be my wedding day with Charles, but out of nowhere, he received a call from the police station and ditched me at the ceremony.

After taking care of everything, I was walking back to our villa when someone suddenly attacked me with a knife.

"Enough!"

Before I could finish speaking, I heard Charles' angry voice over the phone.

"Lucinda, I'm done with your games," he snapped.

"Charles, I'm not playing games. Someone's really trying to kill me," I pleaded desperately, not knowing when the attacker would catch up.

"Then, just go to hell," he responded coldly.

"I..."

Before I could say a word more, I heard footsteps approaching and quickly covered my mouth.

A shiver ran down my spine as the killer stepped into the room.

"Lucinda, just execute your role as Mrs. Galloway well..."

Just then, I heard Charles' voice on the phone. Panicked, I tried to hang up, but a hand suddenly yanked the cover off my head.

And there it was—a grotesque, bloodstained face.

"Hehe, I found you."

His mad eyes and cruel smile sent chills through me.

That face was a nightmare, seared into my memory. Then, I collapsed, drowning in a pool of blood.

I watched as my wedding dress was stained with blood, my body slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

…

When I regained awareness, I found myself surrounded by people.

The area was blocked off with police tape, and dozens of armed officers encircled the scene.

A young man in a white coat approached, flanked by older officers. As soon as I saw him, I eagerly rushed toward him.

"Charles, you're here!"

However, in the next instant, I froze. I hadn't landed in Charles' arms. Instead, I had passed right through him.

I stared at his retreating figure, my gaze following him until I saw several bloody pieces of flesh scattered on the ground.

A sharp pain pierced my heart, and a wave of overwhelming sadness washed over me.

Then, I looked down at my hands, which were now translucent and ethereal.

I realized I was dead. A ghost. No wonder they couldn't see me. The pieces of flesh scattered on the ground were all that remained of my body.

Even as a spirit, the thought of the person who dismembered me sent a shiver down my spine.

Yet, strangely, I couldn't recall the murderer's face.

Lost in thought, I noticed Charles approaching the pile of human remains, his eyes scanning it carefully.

"What do you think? Any findings?" a middle-aged police officer asked.

Charles frowned, his voice cold. "Judging by the blood, the victim has likely been dead for two days. The tissue appears to be human, but we'll need to bring it back for further analysis."

After a pause, he turned to the officer. "Are there any other clues?"

With a sigh, Gerald Chapman, the captain of the Portsmirth Police Department's criminal investigation unit, shook his head. "An elderly scavenger found this. We got here as soon as the report came in, but aside from this pile of flesh, there are no other clues."

In other words, they couldn't be sure this was the primary crime scene.

Charles paused for a moment, then signaled for his assistant to collect the remains in an evidence bag.

"Wait!"

He suddenly stopped the assistant as his eyes had locked onto something in the pile of flesh.

I saw it too, a jolt of anxiety rushing through me.

It was a ring finger, and there was a ring on it.

Why did my heart race?

It was the wedding ring Charles had personally chosen for me. Surely, he would recognize it!

But to my dismay, he didn't.

Charles stoically and calmly removed the ring from the finger and placed it aside, separating it from the remains.

Gerald sighed sympathetically. "The victim is female. It appears she was recently married."

Charles nodded. "We'll have to wait for the test results to confirm."

His indifferent expression pierced my heart.

What was I expecting? Charles had never truly cared for me. For him, choosing the ring had only been a formality.

He had always only cared about my sister, Liliana.

I was the biological daughter of the Johansens, while Liliana was adopted.

I was abducted as a child and returned to the Johansens when I was 16. My grandfather adored me and always insisted that my parents loved me the most.

Only I alone knew the truth. I was the intruder, the one who had taken Liliana's place. Charles’ fiancée, his childhood sweetheart, was always meant to be Liliana.

I was the outsider.

On his deathbed, my grandfather wrote a will that forced Charles to marry me, hoping someone would protect me.

Yet, he never knew that I would die on my wedding day.

"Young women have been targeted in a recent string of murders in Portsmirth. It's a gruesome crime that's sparking widespread panic. We need to solve this case quickly," Gerald reminded, lighting a cigarette and furrowing his brow.

He paused for a moment, then turned to Charles. "Charles, you should remind your wife to stay indoors as much as possible."

Charles waved him off, his voice flat. "Lucinda is smart. She knows how to take care of herself. She'll be fine."

As he spoke, he slipped off his gloves and rubbed his temples.

The exhaustion from days of overtime was starting to take its toll.

Gerald let out a deep sigh. "I've met her. She doesn't seem like the person they say she is."

Charles gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "She's always been good at putting on an act."

Letting out a breath, Gerald mentioned, "You've been working nonstop for three days. Go home and get some rest. Let the forensic team handle the tests."

Charles nodded, then headed back to Silverpeak Villa.

Driven by obsession, I couldn't bear to be away from him and followed him back to the villa.

As he entered, he scanned the house, clearly surprised not to find me. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

He had saved my contact as Lucinda.

I was already dead, so how could anyone answer the call?

Just then, Mariah, the housekeeper, came in with the groceries. "Where is she, Mariah?" Charles asked.

Mariah hesitated for a moment, then realized he was asking about me.

"Isn't Mrs. Galloway with you, Mr. Galloway?"

Charles frowned, watching as the call went to voicemail. A sneer slowly spread across his face.

"Lucinda, how long are you planning to keep this up?"

Chapter 2

Charles walked back into the room, and I followed.

My thoughts wandered as my gaze swept over the carefully arranged furniture. I put a lot of effort into decorating this room.

But to my surprise, neither my new husband nor I had spent the night here on our wedding night.

He seemed utterly exhausted, falling asleep almost immediately after his shower.

It felt as though I was mirroring his state. Shortly after he drifted off, my head grew heavy, and I, too, seemed to fall asleep.

Hold up a second. Wasn't I supposed to be dead? How could I be sleeping?

I was jolted awake by the sound of a ringing phone. Charles slowly opened his eyes, and his usually stern expression softened as he looked at his phone.

"Lily, what's wrong?" he asked gently.

I had never heard him speak like that before.

"Charlie, I can't reach Lucinda. Is she mad at me?" A woman's trembling voice came through the receiver.

It was my younger sister, Liliana, the adopted daughter of the Johansen family. Despite being adopted, she was cherished far more than I, the family's biological daughter.

In the Johansen family, the only person who truly cared about me was my grandfather—not even my husband.

Charles furrowed his brow. "Isn't Lucinda at the Johansen residence?"

Liliana abruptly stopped crying. "What do you mean, Charlie?" she asked.

He lowered his voice. "She's not at the villa either."

As I had arrived in Portsmirth at sixteen and hadn't made any friends ever since, he had assumed I was at the Johansen residence when he couldn't locate me at the villa.

But now, it seemed the Johansen family was looking for me too.

"Charlie, don't worry. Maybe Lucinda is just out with friends. She'll be back in a few days," Liliana comforted him.

"Friends?" Charles replied impatiently. "Where would she even have friends?"

"Well… Charlie, don't get mad at me. Before you two got married, I saw Lucinda laughing and chatting with a man outside. She even went out with him once and didn't come home that night."

Charles's grip on the phone tightened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes.

I watched him with a mocking expression.

My husband, who was always so cold and calculating with me, was now being manipulated by a pretentious bitch like her.

And this wasn't the first time it had happened.

Yes, it was true that I spoke to a man the day before the wedding. However, he was just the guy who helped me pick out the furniture.

As for why I didn't come home that night, I was simply decorating our new house. I was so tired that I decided to spend the night in the villa instead of leaving.

Wasn't it ironic?

A bride was decorating her own wedding home in her husband's house, right before the wedding.

I'm not sure what Liliana said to Charles, but after he hung up the phone, his expression was frigid.

He quickly got up, washed, and left the villa. However, instead of heading to the police station, he went straight to the Johansen residence.

In the living room, my parents and Liliana were all present.

Noticing Charles' grim expression, Martin slammed the table and shouted, "Lucinda is being outrageous! Just because you had a mission on your wedding day, she decided to leave the house! And now she won't even answer our calls!"

Charles sat on the couch, his face dark with anger.

Patricia, looking equally stern, gritted her teeth and said, "Only those whom you have raised will be grateful. Lucinda has gone too far this time."

Clearly, my parents were furious about my disappearance.

Liliana, however, bit her lip and spoke softly, "Dad, Mom, Charlie, please don't be upset. Lucinda didn't mean to.

"On her wedding day, with Charlie called away on a mission, she was left to entertain the guests alone. It's only natural for her to throw a little tantrum."

Looking at her delicate face, I couldn't help but feel a wave of disgust.

Liliana pretended to be speaking up for me, but in truth, she was only fanning the flames.

As soon as she finished, Martin was even more furious. "Throwing a tantrum? Is that how she's supposed to behave?"

He turned to Charles, his voice low and stern. "Charles, Lucinda grew up in the countryside. She doesn't know the proper rules. You'll need to be patient with her when she comes home."

"Hmph! Disappearing for days right after getting married? She might as well just die out there. You can't expect anything from a child you didn't raise yourself," Patricia added with a sneer.

Though I was never the favored one at home, my parents' sarcastic remarks still pierced my heart like needles.

It wasn't that I didn't want to return, but I simply couldn't.

Charles sat silently on the couch, his expression dark and unreadable.

Suddenly, he pulled out his phone and called me.

This time, the call went through, but it disconnected after just a moment.

"Great! The call went through! Lucinda must be okay!" Liliana exclaimed, her voice brimming with relief before anyone else could react.

His eyes flickered with anger as he watched the call end, but he quickly concealed his emotions.

Rising to his feet, he turned to my parents and said in a low, hoarse voice, "Patricia, Martin, I'm heading home now. Please let me know if Lucinda shows up."

With that, he strode out.

The moment he got into his car, he appeared to receive some news. He immediately changed course and headed straight for the police station.

"Charles, we have some preliminary results," Gerald said, striding over and handing him a file. "We received several calls today, all from sanitation workers."

The two walked to the morgue. Gerald gestured toward a corpse covered by a sheet. "These are the body parts collected from today's crime scenes. DNA tests confirm they all belong to the same person, but..."

He sighed and lifted the sheet. "The victim's head is missing."

Without the head, identifying the victim through facial features was impossible. They would have to rely on matches from the DNA database.

However, not everyone in Portsmirth or even Wyvernia had their DNA recorded in the system.

Identifying the victim would be a daunting task.

Charles looked at the corpse. The stitches on the limbs made it clear they had been severed one by one.

The jagged neck wound was dark, showing signs of decay.

Despite attempts to treat the body, a pungent odor still clung to the air.

Gerald stood silent, his eyes red. He gritted his teeth and continued, "The victim was about 20 years old. She was three months pregnant, and a significant amount of ether was found in her lungs."

Charles' expression darkened as he jerked his head at Gerald.

"Yes." Gerald let out a bitter chuckle. "It's exactly what you're thinking. The victim was alive when her limbs were severed.

"As for her fingers... it seems she regained consciousness during the attack, struggled, and had them cut off."

Chapter 3

The victim was dismembered alive! And what was worse, the victim remained conscious throughout the entire ordeal. The killer's cruelty was beyond comprehension.

However, the most shocking part was that a three-month-old fetus had been found in the corpse.

Three months...

Charles tensed at that thought.

Three months ago, he had been intimate with Lucinda. If she were pregnant, it would be around three months now.

Wait, why was he even thinking about that despicable woman?

"Charles? Charles?"

Gerald called out to him, noticing that Charles seemed lost in thought. He knew how exhausted Charles had been lately, especially after just returning home before being called back to the scene.

On top of that, he had recently married the Johansen family's eldest daughter.

As an older man, Gerald understood the complexities of such a situation.

Charles snapped back to reality, shaking his head at Gerald's concerned gaze, signaling that he was fine.

He then asked, "Are there any other clues?"

I could clearly see the change in Charles' expression. It was almost laughable that the first time he showed any concern for me was because of evidence from a corpse.

I turned to look at my headless body, and an indescribable sadness washed over me.

There was a small, rose-shaped birthmark on my chest. It was clearly visible as the sheet had been pulled down to expose my upper body.

Yet, here I was. My body was lying before my husband, the man with whom I had shared the deepest intimacy, and yet he couldn't even recognize me.

Perhaps he had never truly cared when we were together.

Charles' words lingered in the air. Gerald sighed. "As you know, the online DNA database isn't fully comprehensive yet. Since the victim is headless, identifying her will depend on posting notices and conducting investigations.

"But..."

Gerald's expression grew troubled.

Portsmirth was a large coastal province, known for its steady influx of migrant workers yearly.

With their current investigative methods, identifying the victim felt like searching for a needle in a haystack.

"Something's off," Charles said, his brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Gerald asked, startled.

"We're looking in the wrong direction," Charles replied, narrowing his eyes. "Didn't we find a wedding ring on the victim's finger?"

At the mention of the ring, a surge of hope surged through me. If they could trace where the ring was purchased, Charles would find out he was the one who bought it.

And with that, my identity would be exposed.

Gerald's next words froze me in place, though.

He chuckled bitterly. "We've already checked with all the jewelry stores, and they say they haven't sold a ring like that."

"Impossible! Charles picked that ring out for me himself. How could they not have a record of it?" was what I thought.

"We'll keep looking; we'll find it."

Before Charles could respond, I began screaming at the top of my lungs.

For some reason, I was consumed by an overwhelming need to find my killer, but they couldn't hear me. I couldn't even reach them.

Charles frowned and continued, "Let's look into recent disappearances and weddings in Beaconfield."

Since the body was found there, even though it wasn't the primary crime scene, the killer wouldn't have transported the body all the way here. The victim was likely someone from the neighborhood.

Gerald sighed. "That's all we can do for now."

A few moments later, the two of them slowly walked out of the morgue, and I trailed behind Charles like a lost puppy.

Oddly enough, despite the bright sunlight, I felt no discomfort at all.

Weren't ghosts supposed to be afraid of the sun?

Standing there, I looked up at the sky with confusion. Could it be that I wasn't actually a ghost?

Charles returned to Silverpeak Villa, taking a photo of the ring from the evidence. It seemed he planned to investigate on his own.

That was really typical of him. He was always dedicated to his work, yet so indifferent toward me.

I don't know how I fell in love with him. All I remembered was that after our first meeting, it felt as though I had been spellbound. I couldn't stop thinking about him, day and night.

Perhaps my feelings were too obvious, which irritated him.

But when he proposed, I saw a flicker of nervousness and anticipation in his eyes.

It was the kind of nervousness someone felt when they loved another. So, why did he become so indifferent after our wedding?

Could love really be faked?

As we drove, I found myself drifting off to sleep.

When I woke up, I realized I wasn't at Silverpeak Villa. Instead, I was at the Johansen residence!

The Johansens?

I blinked in surprise and scanned my surroundings. There was no sign of Charles, which meant I must have come here on my own.

I had tried several times in the past few days, but I could never get far from Charles.

How could I possibly be at the Johansen residence?

"Mom, Dad, I brought you a gift." I heard a familiar voice calling from downstairs. It was my sister, Liliana.

I finally came to my senses and realized I was in my own room.

As I floated out of the room, I saw Liliana sitting on the living room sofa, placing a gift box on the table that she had taken from the maid’s hands.

The moment I saw the box, a wave of dread and heartache washed over me.

Patricia gently patted Liliana's head and said, "You silly girl, why would you buy us a gift for no reason?"

Liliana smiled sweetly. "You've been having trouble sleeping because of Lucinda, so I had someone bring you some calming diffuser from a renowned healer."

As she spoke, she carefully took a beautiful diffuser burner from the box, along with a small glass jar containing a green powder.

When she opened the lid, a delicate fragrance filled the air.

At that moment, a sharp pain shot through my head, and everything around me began to warp and distort. A strange force seemed to pull at my body.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a dim, enclosed room filled with an unfamiliar scent.

"Did you bring the stuff?"

"Yes, I did."

"In all my years of doing this, I've never seen anyone ask for this kind of diffuser."

"Hey, why worry? It's just what the boss provided."

I heard footsteps approaching from the doorway. Then, two figures pushed open the door and stepped inside.

I couldn't make out their faces clearly, but from their clothes, it was obvious they weren't from Portsmirth, and they weren't speaking the local language.

Just as I wondered how I'd ended up here, one of them pulled something out of a box behind them.

The moment I saw it, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

Chapter 4

It was a skull.

A bare, bloodless skull.

But I'd been dead for less than three days. How could I already be just a skeleton?

Who had beheaded me and brought my head to these people? Could one of them be my killer?

I tried to move closer to get a better look at their faces, but my body felt trapped, and I was frozen in place.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. This skull belonged to a beautiful woman," said a shorter man, smacking his lips.

The taller man beside him snorted. "Who cares if she was pretty? We're just paid to do the job."

With that, he raised the hammer and brought it down with a resounding bang, shattering the skull into fragments.

My head throbbed, and when my vision finally cleared, I found myself back in the Johansen residence.

Staring at the powder in the glass bottle, the image of what I had just witnessed flashed through my mind, leaving me frozen in shock.

"No! Don't!"

As Martin struck a match and prepared to light it, I lunged forward desperately, but I passed right through him.

Who?

Who could have done this?

A wave of anger surged through me.

Since returning from the countryside, I hadn't made many friends, nor had I wronged anyone.

The only person I could think of who might hold a grudge against me was Liliana.

Liliana?

A sudden thought crossed my mind, and I turned to look at her. For an instant, I caught a flicker of mockery in her eyes.

The fleeting expression sent a chill down my spine.

Did she know something?

But Liliana and I were only rivals because of our family's favoritism. She had always been the more pampered one.

If anything, shouldn't I be the one harboring resentment toward her?

"Charlie, you're here!" Liliana exclaimed in surprise.

I followed her gaze and saw Charles enter, looking tired.

"Charlie, you're here," Patricia said as she stood up.

"Has that rebellious daughter of ours contacted you?" Martin asked.

Charles rubbed his temples and shook his head. After a brief pause, he glanced at Liliana and said, "You can just call me Charles from now on."

After all, he was married to Lucinda, and although he had grown up with Liliana, it was important to maintain appropriate boundaries.

Martin, taken aback, shot a glare at Liliana. "That's right. You should call him Charles. Your sister is married to Charlie now, so it's not appropriate to call him Charlie anymore."

"No, I want to call him Charlie," Liliana huffed.

"You!" Martin's eyes widened, but before he could say anything further, Patricia quickly interjected, "Alright, Lily and Charlie grew up together, so it's understandable if she can't break the habit right away."

At this, Martin's expression softened. Then, as if recalling something, he muttered, "If only Lucinda were as considerate as Lily."

Liliana's face stiffened, and as she lowered her head, I caught a brief flash of intense resentment in her eyes. It was quick, but it unsettled me.

I was taken aback. What could Lucinda possibly be so resentful about?

Memories flooded back as I recalled my first days with the Johansen family. My parents were overjoyed to welcome me.

I wanted nothing more than to make them happy, but everything I did seemed to backfire. It was all because of Liliana, that manipulative little bitch, who was secretly sabotaging me.

By the time I realized it, it was too late.

To them, only the sweet and obedient Liliana mattered.

As for me, I was nothing but a spoiled, dramatic troublemaker.

Liliana had everything, so why was she still so resentful?

At that moment, a strong sense of unease washed over me. I couldn't shake the feeling that Liliana was somehow connected to my death.

"Martin, there's something else I need to ask you," Charles mentioned suddenly.

"Hmm?" Martin straightened up, his curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

It was rare for Charles to ask for his help.

Charles pulled a photo of a ring from his pocket and placed it on the coffee table. "Can you tell me where this ring was made?"

The Johansen family was in the jewelry business, and Martin was an expert in the field. Charles had come to the right person.

It was absurd. The ring was clearly something Charles had bought himself, yet he was asking someone else about it.

Now it made sense. This ring was probably just something he'd picked up randomly to appease me, and he'd forgotten all about it.

Martin took the photo, studied it intently, and frowned.

After a long pause, he said, "This ring is exquisitely crafted, but the intricate patterns are clearly not machine-made."

He shook his head. "Small shops wouldn't be able to produce something like this. It must have come from a private workshop, and..."

He hesitated, then sighed. "Only a few master craftsmen could have done this."

Having gotten the answer he sought, Charles didn't linger at the Johansen residence and soon left.

I followed him back to Silverpeak Villa.

He collapsed onto the couch and dialed my number again, but it went unanswered.

I could clearly see the gloom and impatience settling deeper in his eyes.

After resting in the villa for a while, Charles headed out again.

I followed him like a kite on a string.

Oddly, instead of going to the criminal investigation department, Charles wandered into some old alleys and started asking around.

He eventually stopped in front of Havenwood Gates and knocked on the door.

Moments later, a white-haired man appeared, clearly surprised to see Charles. "Mr. Galloway, what a rare visit. Please, come in."

They entered the gates, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, Charles placed a photo on the table and spoke. "Mr. Woldrich, I would be grateful if you could take a look at this ring and tell me which master crafted it."

The old man, Luther Woldrich, put on his reading glasses and examined the photo closely. He let out a surprise, then looked up at Charles in astonishment.

"Don't you recognize this ring, Mr. Galloway?" he asked.

Charles blinked in confusion, his brow furrowing as he responded, "Mr. Woldrich, please, just tell me."

Luther stroked his beard and smiled knowingly. "Isn't this the ring you asked me to make a few days ago? You mentioned it was for Lucinda."

"What?"

The usually composed Charles suddenly stood up, his face transforming in an instant.

His pupils shook with disbelief as he stared at Luther, his voice quivering slightly. "You're saying I was the one who bought this ring?"

Chapter 5

At the sight of Charles' changed expression, Luther's smile faded. Confused, he tilted his head and asked, "What's wrong?"

Charles didn't respond. His gaze was fixed intently on the ring in the photo, and he stayed silent for a long moment.

Just as Luther was about to ask again, Charles shook his head, his voice raspy. "It's nothing. I've troubled you, Mr. Woldrich."

With that, he turned and walked out of the Havenwood Gates.

He drove straight to the criminal investigation unit and found Gerald there.

Seeing Charles in such an urgent and flustered state, Gerald was taken aback. Before he could say anything, Charles demanded urgently, "Where's the ring? Where's the ring?!"

"Charles, what's going on with you? Why are you so anxious? I know the higher-ups are pressuring us, but this isn't like you."

"The ring!" Charles' eyes were red with desperation as he grabbed Gerald by the collar, practically shouting, "Give me the ring!"

A crowd of curious onlookers began to gather.

Gerald's face turned pale. He quickly turned to a young man standing nearby and ordered, "Go to the evidence room and bring the ring."

Moments later, the man returned holding a transparent bag.

Without a second thought, Charles snatched it from him and violently tore open the evidence bag. Gerald's face shifted with concern. "Charles, what are you doing?!"

Ignoring Gerald, Charles picked up the ring. When he saw the letters 'CL' engraved on the inside, his face went ashen.

It was the first time I noticed the engraving.

"This... This is the wedding ring I bought for Lucinda..." Charles seemed lost in thought, mumbling to himself.

Gerald's pupils constricted, but he quickly furrowed his brow and said in a deep voice, "Charles, calm down. Are you sure you're not mistaken?"

Charles didn't respond. When he picked up the ring, he hadn't looked at it closely but had specifically asked Luther to engrave those two letters.

No matter how willful Lucinda was, she was still his wife.

Mistaken? Impossible.

But if this were true...

"No! No! Lucinda is too smart to have died!" He shook his head violently, muttering to himself.

"Charlie."

At that moment, a voice called from the door.

I turned to see Liliana walking in, accompanied by my parents.

"Charlie, are you feeling unwell? You look so pale," Liliana said, walking over to Charles with concern.

"I'm fine," he replied, shaking his head. He glanced at my parents and added, "Patricia, Martin, what brings you here?"

"What else? Lucinda hasn't been home for a few days, and Portsmith hasn't been safe lately. My dad got worried and decided to report it to the police."

Martin's voice was filled with frustration. "That ungrateful daughter. If she won't come back, then we have no choice but to report her to the police."

My heart ached at that.

In a typical family, if a daughter went missing for even a day, they would be deeply worried. Yet, I was missing for three days, and they still thought I was just sulking.

But the truth was, my body had been in the morgue for several days now.

Only Charles seemed to realize that I was already dead.

As expected, a moment later, he glanced at my parents and, after a long pause, he said, "Martin, you should go back first. Lucinda will come home when she's calmed down."

"What?!" I was left confused.

Was this man's emotions so easily swayed?

But then, I realized why he said that. As he escorted the three of them out, he took a strand of Patricia's hair from her shoulder.

He handed the item to Gerald, his voice hoarse. "Mr. Chapman, please conduct a paternity test. Between that headless corpse and my mother-in-law..."

"Charles, are you serious?" Gerald's eyes widened in disbelief.

Charles said nothing. Without another word, he turned and left the criminal investigation team.

After getting into his car, I saw him light a cigarette—something he rarely did. His deep eyes were unreadable, but the hand holding the cigarette trembled slightly.

When he returned home, the housekeeper was gone. The villa stood silent and empty, with only Charles and me, a lingering ghost.

The villa was plunged into darkness, and he sat on the sofa, chain-smoking.

I hated the smell of cigarettes, and he knew it. He almost never smoked in the villa. But now, he didn't even seem to notice the ash scattering onto the floor.

Beep, beep, beep.

He was making a call.

Over and over, he dialed my number.

But there was no answer. He kept trying until the line eventually went dead, signaling that the phone had been turned off.

The faint glow of the screen lit up his face, and I froze in shock.

Charles looked ghostly pale, his red-rimmed eyes burning with fury.

Suddenly, the villa door opened from the outside.

I was caught off guard and confused. After all, the housekeeper had already gone home.

"Lucinda!" Charles leaped to his feet, his eyes widening in surprise.

For a moment, I thought he could see me, but then he strode toward the door.

Standing there in a dress was my sister, Liliana.

"Charlie," Liliana said, startled, as he neared her.

Charles frowned. "What are you doing here? How did you get a key to this place?"

Liliana paled, collapsing into Charles' arms and sobbing uncontrollably. "Charlie, I'm sorry. I really like you, even after you married my sister. I just can't help it. I like you so much. That's why I copied the key. I only wanted to see you."

Before he could react, she kissed him passionately on the lips.

Charles stiffened, his expression darkening. He instinctively tried to push her away but stopped when she cried out in pain.

"Liliana!"

After a brief pause, Charles seemed to regain his composure. He forcefully pushed her away and shouted, anger rising in his voice. "What are you doing?!"

"Charlie." Liliana looked up at him, her eyes red and filled with anguish.

"I liked you first! Why did you marry my sister?"

His face darkened. He pointed at the door, shouting, "Get out!"

"Charlie..."

"I said, get out!" Charles roared, his face frozen in fury.

She turned even paler as she sneered. "You like Lucinda, don't you? But she's never coming back."

Charles' expression hardened as he fixed his gaze on her with his teeth clenched. "What did you just say?"