Chapter 4

When Isabelle developed appendicitis, Sebastian left me waiting alone at the movie theater and never came back for our date. I had no choice but to walk home in the pouring rain.

On our anniversary, all she had to do was tell him she was feeling down, and he'd abandon our carefully planned evening to take her to the beach instead.

Each time, I tried to convince myself he was simply looking out for an old friend, but the excuses grew harder to swallow with every passing day.

We fought about it countless times, but no matter how much I begged him to consider my feelings or how deeply his actions hurt me, nothing ever changed. Whenever I brought it up, he shot me down with the same impatient excuses.

"Chloe, can you grow up already? She has no family here and no one to rely on. What's so wrong with me looking out for her?"

"I've spent the entire day working on cases. I'm exhausted. The last thing I need is to come home and argue with you about this."

"I don't have feelings for her. If I did, we'd have gotten together a long time ago! If you're determined to twist everything into something it's not, then I have nothing more to say!"

His words cut deeper with every argument, each one like a needle piercing my heart until I could barely stand the pain. I was exhausted, both emotionally and mentally, and I couldn't keep living like this.

In the end, I was the one who asked for a breakup, hoping that walking away would finally put an end to my suffering.

Instead, it felt as though the entire world had turned against me. My friends accused me of making a big deal out of nothing, and my mentor urged me not to make such a rash decision.

My own parents scolded me too, insisting, "You'll never find a man better than Sebastian in your entire life!"

Even Sebastian, his eyes bloodshot, demanded to know what he had to do to make me stop talking about breaking up.

With everyone dismissing my pain and refusing to understand why I'd reached my breaking point, I felt more alone than ever.

That was when Isabelle approached me on her own, asking to join the Scarlet Murders investigation as a consultant.

"I promise that once this collaboration is over, I'll request a transfer and disappear from your lives for good."

I refused at first, unwilling to let her insert herself into my investigation. But somehow, she always seemed to know where our team would be.

No matter which crime scene we visited, she'd turn up nearby as if by coincidence, then come up with one excuse after another to delay our progress. Her constant interference pushed me to the brink, and with the investigation at a standstill, I eventually had no choice but to give in.

I agreed to let her join the team, believing it was the only way to keep the case moving forward.

It was a compromise I would pay for with my life.

In the end, I was brutally tortured and murdered.

…

Back in the autopsy room, Robert leaned over my skeletal remains, examining every inch of my bones with a furrowed brow. Suddenly, something caught his eye.

He slipped on a pair of gloves and carefully ran his fingers along the jagged edge of one of my fractured ribs. Hidden among the damage was a tiny, deliberate mark, so subtle that it could easily have been mistaken for ordinary wear.

Before he could examine it further, a young officer burst into the room without knocking, barely able to contain his excitement.

"Dr. Mitchell! We've made a major discovery at the burial site!"

Robert immediately gathered a team and rushed to the scene.

At the bottom of the pit, forensic technicians had cleared away a section of soil, revealing a small black object sealed inside a vacuum-packed, waterproof bag.

One of the technicians carefully lifted it from the dirt and turned to Robert, looking stunned.

"Dr. Mitchell, is this… one of those miniature voice recorders from seven years ago?"

Robert froze. The moment he recognized the device, his eyes turned bloodshot, and his entire body began to tremble. It was the exact model he'd personally given me seven years earlier, telling me it was discreet and perfect for collecting evidence during sensitive investigations.

If the recorder had been buried here with my remains, then one thing became painfully clear—I had never betrayed them or fled to escape prosecution.

Yet for seven years, they'd convinced themselves I'd run away to avoid facing the consequences, never once considering that something far more sinister might have happened to me.

Robert's mind flashed back to the skeleton on the autopsy table and the deep cut marks covering my bones. A sickening realization washed over him as the pieces began to fall into place. The world seemed to spin around him, and he struggled to stay on his feet.

With trembling hands, he pulled out his phone and called the Homicide Division. His voice was hoarse as he barked out an order.

"Get Sebastian and William to headquarters immediately! Right now! Tell them we've uncovered new physical evidence in the case from seven years ago!"

He had barely ended the call when an excited shout rang out behind him. "Dr. Mitchell! The recorder still works!"