Nouvelles Police Regret & Romans

On the day of my wedding, my senior military officer fiance took off the wedding dress I had designed myself. “You know that Crystal got hurt and can’t have children. She won’t be able to get married. Lend her your wedding dress so she can experience what it’s like to get married.” I was stunned in place, but Jordan Langford was already slipping off my dress. “We’re just going to do a wedding rehearsal so she can have the experience. Then, I’ll come home and get you, and we can have our wedding.” I looked at him, flabbergasted. I could not believe that he could say such a thing on such an important day. Jordan helped Crystal into the dress before patting me on the head and saying comfortingly, “It’s just a ceremony. You’re the woman I want for my wife. Don’t think too hard about it.” After that, he left with Crystal in the dozen-car-strong motorcade while I waited at home. Jordan was a senior military officer, while Crystal had been an army medic. Because of an injury that made her lose the ability to have children, Jordan was giving her my wedding. Tears poured down my face, and I felt my heart go cold. I bought a plane ticket back home and left without telling anyone. If that was Jordan’s choice, then I would not marry him.

At sixteen, I found Owen Hughes in the slums. He was covered in blood—but he stepped in front of me anyway. I thought he was a gift from fate. So I begged my father to keep him close. He became my bodyguard. My classmate. My husband. Ten years later, I learned the truth: it was all a trap. He was undercover. His mission—to take down my father, the mafia don. I walked away. Swore I'd never see him again. Six years passed. Then we met again. His eyes were wet. "Aubrey... is there still a chance for us?"

My boyfriend is a forensic artist. He was forced to make a harrowing decision to save his first love. At the killer's demand, he created a portrait from a photo—he never realized that the young girl in the photo was me in my childhood. Two weeks later, the police investigate a grisly bomb explosion and dismemberment case. The victim's identity was unrecognizable, and the investigation dragged on for days as the authorities desperately searched the blast site, looking for my remains. After three days and nights, they finally recovered enough of my remains to reconstruct my face. When my boyfriend unknowingly brought the shattered fragments back to life with his art, he was confronted with a horrifying truth—one that drove him to the edge of madness.

The night I was kidnapped, I made one last phone call to my dad, police captain Marcus Harper. "Dad, save me!" "Grace, even your jealous tantrums should have better timing." On the other end of the line, he was celebrating his adopted daughter's birthday. His voice dripped with impatience. "Today is Annie's eighteenth birthday. Pushing her down the stairs wasn't enough for you? Now you have to lie and make a scene too?" I cried and told him I hadn't done it. All I got in return was a dismissive chuckle. "Grace, either come home right now and apologize to Annie, or don't ever come back." I never made it back. Three months later, a girl's body was unearthed at an abandoned slaughterhouse on the edge of the city. Dad led the team to the scene. He pulled back the blue tarp covering the body and saw the red cord around my wristbone, the one with "Stay Safe" engraved on its silver tag. The man who had saved countless missing children finally lost his mind.

My husband, who was a drug enforcement police officer, personally got me into rehab. My son was cheering on the side, saying that he no longer had to see me under the influence for a long time. After I was discharged, I discovered my husband moved in with his lover and our son. I begged him to come back and told him that someone would kill me. He did not believe me. Instead, he said coldly, “If you die, you better end up in a trash can. Otherwise, I’d have to deal with your body.” My son cheered at the side. “Mommy is finally gone!” After a week, I was dismembered. My body parts were found in multiple trash cans. He was the police in charge of the case.

I was the prime suspect in the notorious murder of my parents-in-law in Cardinal City. The one who arrested me was my wife—Linda Reese, the police chief. While the verdict was still pending, the killer struck again. The new victim was murdered with the same savage cruelty. Linda knelt before me, begging me to tell her the truth. I told her I didn’t know. The victims’ families screamed, demanding that I be carved into pieces. Three months later, Linda found me beside a garbage bin, bringing with her a memory-decoding device. Her hands trembled as she pressed two thin needles into my temples. “I’m sorry, Finn. I know you’re not the killer. I just want this slaughter to end. I don’t want anyone else to die. Let everyone see your memories—let them see what really happened back then.” But when she finished watching my memories, she collapsed to the ground, utterly broken, and fell to her knees.

A rival pack invaded, plunging our pack into the worst crisis we had ever faced. The witch, Morgana Vale, said that only a blood sacrifice could save the entire pack. So despite my anemia, I was dragged onto the altar. Morgana slit my wrist, and the moment my blood dripped onto the totem, the ritual began. When the bleeding got to be more than I could take, I tried to call it off, but my mother stopped me cold. "Sweetheart, hold on a little longer. You're the Alpha's daughter. Making a small sacrifice for the pack is only right. It's just a little blood. It won't kill you." I gritted my teeth and held on, my heart pounding like it would burst. The ritual lasted from morning until dusk, and my blood never stopped flowing. "Mom, I really can't take it anymore." My face was ghost-white, and my vision was starting to blur. But she just gave my bloodless face a cold glance. "Sacrificing for the pack is an honor. Being the Alpha's daughter doesn't mean you get to shirk your duty. I did not raise you to be selfish." By midnight, everything went black, and I collapsed on the altar. I'm sorry. I failed to do my duty. I'm sorry, Mother. I let you down.

After I'm abducted, I call my mother, a policewoman, for help. However, she hangs up on me and stays by my adoptive sister's side. "Go to hell if you're so keen on it!" she snaps. I calmly watch as the abductors pluck my nails and torment me until none of my skin is left unharmed. In my past life, my mother actually came to my rescue. She left my adoptive sister by the roadside, and the latter ended up being violated and murdered. From then on, I became a criminal in my mother's eyes. She received an anonymous text on my adoptive sister's death anniversary. "I bet a good girl like you wouldn't want your mother to know you hired us to abduct you, right?" She thought I orchestrated the abduction because I wanted to vie for her attention. She thought that was the cause of my adoptive sister's death. "I've saved people all my life. I never would've expected my flesh and blood to be such a shameless monster! You should go to hell as atonement for killing Charlene!" She sewed my mouth shut, shattered every bone in my body, and threw my ashes into a junkyard. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back to the day my mother makes her choice.

My parents' enemy kidnapped me and live-streamed cutting off my fingers, just to force them to show up. For a time, the entire internet was searching for my parents. But what no one knew was that the police chief on the live connection was my real father. At that very moment, he was on a beach in Havai, lighting fireworks for his adopted son. And on their barbecue table, the live stream of my fingers being cut off was playing. Later, I survived long enough to be rescued, and I reached out with my severed fingers, wanting to touch my parents. But they recoiled in disgust and, without so much as a backward glance, took their adopted son out for steak. What they never realized was that hidden inside my severed fingers was something that would make them regret everything.

Three years after my death, Matt Lewinsky meets another professional gold digger just like me. He's not easy to fool anymore. He plays along and catches our ringleader, Simon Hale. "Where's Natalia? She scammed me out of so much money. Who knows where she's enjoying herself now?" Simon blows out a puff of smoke, as if he has heard the funniest joke in the world. "Mr. Lewinsky, do you really have no idea? Natalia died a long time ago. Her whole face was slashed to pieces, and even after three of her fingers were chopped off, she still refused to hand over the Lewinsky family's secret key. "Our leader threw her into the snowy mountains to feed the leopards." Matt stands up abruptly and punches Simon in the face. "Stop covering for her! She didn't hesitate when she scammed me back then. Tell me! Where did you hide the key? Where is Natalia now?" Simon spits out some blood and laughs. "You're so damn stupid. You still think Natalia betrayed you? Then, that poor woman died for nothing. Yes, she was one of us, but she never did anything to betray you. If revenge is what you want, you should go after your fiancée." Matt's pupils constrict sharply. "What do you mean…" Before he can finish speaking, his bodyguard pushes open the door. "Mr. Lewinsky, the police found a female corpse in the snowy mountains."

The border crackdown finally comes to an end. The police finally capture the notorious Roxanne Thorne, who has made headlines across the country. In the interrogation room, Jordyn Croft sits across from her in a police uniform, repeatedly asking the same question. "Where is that traitor, Christopher Savile, hiding now?" Roxanne slowly raises her eyes, her slender fingertips gently rubbing the edge of her handcuffs. "That young cop? We tied him to a metal frame and took turns beating him. Then we injected him with highly concentrated drugs before using blunt weapons to smash his knees and ankles piece by piece. Finally, we chained him to the barbed-wire fence at the border." She licks her lips, as if savoring the memory. "By dawn, his body was already stiff." Jordyn stands up and slams the files onto the table. "You're lying! He was the one who leaked the information back then and got more than a dozen of our officers killed. He even covered your retreat through the back mountain. The surveillance footage captured everything clearly!" Roxanne suddenly bursts into laughter. Her handcuffs clang loudly against the table. She says, "Christopher never gave us a single useful piece of information until the end. Instead, it was a hostage he'd previously rescued from us who kept feeding us information. His only condition was that we take Christopher away and make everyone believe he was a traitor. "That way, he could conveniently take Christopher's wife for himself." The entire room falls silent. Just then, the interrogation room door flies open. Jordyn's newlywed husband, Milo Lumley, rushes in, his voice urgent. "Jordyn, did you catch the suspect? Did they tell you where Chris is?"

My mother kept calling me while I was on a stakeout. I had been hiding inside a van, watching the suspects for six hours. Then my phone screen suddenly lit up. The ringtone shattered the silence. I panicked and tried to put it on silent, but I accidentally hit the speaker button. A faint sound came from the phone. I felt terribly guilty and embarrassed. If we alerted the suspect, our entire operation tonight would be ruined. Captain Derek glanced over and saw that it was my mother calling. He lowered his voice and said, "Don't panic. Go take the call. Ethan and I will keep watch." Ethan frowned and quietly warned me, "Be careful. Don't give away our position." I gave them a grateful look before quietly getting out of the van and hiding in a nearby corner. I lowered my voice and asked with a hint of irritation, "Mom, I already told you I had an important operation today. Why are you calling me?"

While a killer was dismembering me, my father was busy throwing a coming-of-age party for my adopted younger sister. When I called him for help, all I heard on the other end of the line was his venomous voice. "What kind of act are you putting on this time? If you want to die, hurry up and do it! Just stay out of my sight!" The next day, Dad went back to the police station to investigate a dismemberment case that had shocked the entire city. He gathered every clue the killer had left behind. What he never once suspected was that the body being pieced back together belonged to the biological daughter he hated so much.

Jocelyn Nicols was celebrated as the police department's genius detective. I'd spent ten quiet years at her side as her assistant, unnoticed by anyone. By her eighth year on the force, she still hadn't cracked the decade-old cold case that had haunted her career. "You know the rule," she told me. "I won't marry until this case is solved." I didn't say anything back. I just packed her bags for another out-of-town assignment and wished her a safe trip. What she didn't know was that the moment she finally cracked the case and became a household name across the country, I'd just received a notice from the hospital. It told me I was going to die.

When I'm on the verge of dying, the kidnapper who has kidnapped me calls my fiance, Connor Weston, who's also the youngest patrol officer in the pack. The call goes through, only for us to hear Connor's voice, which is filled with suppressed rage. "Sylvia Kline, I'll give you three seconds to stop bothering me. Vivian's initiation ceremony will take place at night three days later. If you dare pull off another one of your tricks again—" "Connor…" Blood gushes out of my mouth as soon as I open it. My voice is so hoarse that I don't sound like myself at all. "Save… me…" "Your acting's pretty good," Connor cuts me off, his tone filled with disdain. "Listen, if you dare skip out on the ceremony and embarrass me in front of the entire pack, you can forget about going home." After that, the line goes dead. In the end, I die from mutilation. It's fine, Connor. I can't go home for real this time.