Part 3

My husband joined the detectives from the criminal investigation team in a huddle. The whiteboard displayed pictures of my body, along with notes about what they found. Important details were circled.

"The DNA test results are in," one officer announced. "It doesn’t match any criminal’s identity. This woman clearly doesn't have a criminal record."

"We also checked missing persons reports, but no pregnant women are matching her age and description."

An officer furrowed his brow, finding it odd. "The victim has been missing for a couple of days. Why wouldn't anyone report a pregnant woman missing?”

"Didn't she have any family?"

My husband clicked his pen, circling the word ‘child’ on the whiteboard.

"We can't identify her yet," he said. "But if we can find the baby the murderer cut open and run a DNA test, the results might lead us to the father and then to her identity."

Tears welled up, blurring my vision as I crouched by the trash can. My invisible hand, desperate and trembling, reached for the fake fetus, but it passed right through.

I could never touch it.

Our child was exactly right there….

The child you once desired the most….

This doll, this cruel prank you believed it to be, held the very clue you sought, but you tossed it aside like garbage….

Next, my husband wrote down the words ‘dismemberment scene’ and circled them. There was not much blood in the sewer, indicating the murderer just left the body there as a dumping site.

Most murderers took their victims apart in a place they knew well, somewhere they felt safe. They might even go back there later. Finding where the body was cut up would be a huge break in the case.

He then circled the words ‘left ear’ and added a question mark.

"We checked the sewer high and low," an officer said, "but no sign of the victim’s left ear or the other pieces. Looks like the murderer didn't dump everything here."

"Why get rid of them separately? Maybe there's something on that ear, a mark that could tell us the victim’s identity."

Upon hearing this, my husband stopped short and frowned in confusion. He stared intently at the words ‘left ear’ written on the board.

I subconsciously reached up and touched my left earlobe. There, a small red mole. Jayden used to love pinching them, so he'd definitely recognize this mark.

"The murderer performed a brutal, forced surgery, removing the fetus," someone said, “but didn't kill the victim right away. Instead, they inserted some kind of powder and tortured her for days before mercilessly ending her life. This points towards a deep-seated hatred for the victim or her family."

"Drug powder... revenge..."

One officer's eyes shifted toward my husband. "Captain Williams, could this be revenge? Maybe a drug dealer we arrested is holding a grudge and getting back at us? That’s why they tortured the victim and dumped the body in our sewer system to taunt us...."

"That doesn't make sense," another officer interrupted. "No one in the station has a pregnant wife who's missing. Plus, wouldn't a family member report her missing?"

A flicker of realization crossed my husband’s widened eyes but then vanished just as quickly as brushed it off with a shake of his head.

Jayden, did something just click for you? Remember when I told you I was pregnant? Back then, you dismissed it as a ploy to win you back. You thought it was just a lie fueled by my jealousy of your past love.

Too bad, you missed another crucial clue. Who in the entire police station would drug dealers hate the most? Jayden, my husband, it was you.

Had your heart not been made of ice, the clues that scattered like breadcrumbs might have led you home. A simple visit home, that was all it took.

He was stunned for a moment before returning to focus on his work. He split the officers into teams, each with a specific job. One team rushed to check on missing pregnant women, another team searched for the first crime scene and the missing body parts and the last team went to hospitals to look for records of pregnant women matching the description.

In addition, they even called in experts to put my head back together. It was crushed so badly that it did not even look human anymore. These experts could use things like soft plastic and details from my bones, age, and leftover tissue to reconstruct my face, kind of like a mold based on science. Once they fixed my skull, they could use it to figure out my identity by matching it with ID records in the police computer system. However, it would take some time to put the pieces back together.

My husband rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. At that moment, his phone buzzed and a soft smile played on his lips as he saw the caller ID.

"Jay, I'm so scared…."

"Where are you? Alright. Stay put and lock the windows. If you're scared, turn on all the lights and wait for me. I'm on my way back," Jayden gently reassured.

He hung up and glanced at the clock. It was almost 10 p.m.

"Alright everyone, head home and get some rest. We can pick things up tomorrow."

A wave of despair crashed over me. My husband, a notorious workaholic, would often disappear for days on end during investigations. I never dared to interrupt him. Yet, a single call from her, and he would drop everything to be by her side.

It was painfully clear that… in his heart, I would never measure up.

Part 4

I drifted along, following my husband until we reached a house. It was the place he lived in before we were married. The funny thing was, I never knew until now, until I died, that a woman lived in the house he claimed to have rented out.

A woman named Yve Sinclair, my husband's ex-girlfriend, the one he called his lost, everlasting love.

She was the woman he rescued from drug dealers three months before. And apparently, that was where he spent all those nights he was not at home... with her.

The thought of it all made a fresh wave of pain crash over me. Yve, his ex, was suffering from some trauma after being held hostage in a case. He was worried sick about her safety, fearing both drug dealer revenge and something happening to her in general, so Jayden took it upon himself to look after his ex.

No wonder he drove like a maniac, shaving half an hour off a twenty-minute trip.

He burst through the door, his voice shaky as he called, "Yve?"

The only other time I had seen him this scared was when his father died.

Yve was huddled in the corner of the couch, trembling. When she heard my husband's voice, she scrambled up and threw herself into his arms like a scared bunny. My husband's body tensed for a moment before reaching out and embracing her in her arms.

He stroked her hair with one hand, murmuring comfort in a low voice, "It's okay. Don't be afraid. I'm here...."

Yve clung to him, tears streaming down her face. "Where have you been? I was so scared without you here!"

Jayden offered a warm explanation. "Sorry, I got caught up with the autopsy results for that dismemberment case."

Yve's eyes flickered as she pulled back slightly. "Oh? Did you find anything?" she asked.

"We found out the victim was pregnant. It looks like a revenge killing, but we haven't identified her yet. No leads so far."

"A pregnant woman… That's awful..."

She said it, but her eyes sparkled with something that felt fake, almost smug. The hypocrisy was disgusting.

She pretended to show sympathy while clearly fishing for information about the case!

Facing Yve, my husband spilled everything about the case even though he would usually keep things quiet. It was so unfair.

Was this the difference between someone he loved and... not?

Just because he loved her, his usual strictness vanished. Just because the one asking was Yve Sinclair, he seemed to be very eager to share everything like a dam breaking. “The murderer cut the victim’s belly open, took out the baby and replaced it with drugs inside her uterus. So, we think it might be someone we missed catching three months ago, deliberately taunting the police.”

Yve gasped, her voice trembling in fear. "No way! That’s… way too terrifying! Did you find the culprit?"

"Not yet," my husband said with a frown, looking worried. "We think it might be someone from that group we busted a while back. I'm worried the murderer might target you if they know you're alive."

"Stay inside for a while," he instructed gently. "If anything strange happens, call me right away."

Yve nodded obediently.

Trying to change the subject, she asked. "Jay, you come here every day to keep me company. Doesn't your wife mind? She is your wife, after all. Didn't she mention being pregnant before?"

The mere mention of me made my husband's expression turned cold. However, when he looked back at Yve, his expression softened again as if he did not want to scare her.

"Why bring her up? If it weren’t for her, my father wouldn't...." He stopped with a frown. "You should get some rest, it's late already."

"But I'm scared…." Yve whined.

"Don't be," he soothed. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep before leaving."

I was floating in the air, watching my husband whisper by Yve's bed, his voice gentle and soothing. His eyes held a tenderness I had never known before.

A picture of porcelain perfection, they seemed sculpted for each other.

A knife twisted in my gut, a hurtful realization shattering my world. I had always been the outsider.

But Jayden, my dear husband… the woman you were so worried about... was not the angel you think she was.

Part 5

The next day, Jayden and an officer visited obstetrics and gynecology departments at large hospitals in the city. They searched for pregnant women matching the age of the victim and the fetus, hoping to find anything unusual.

By the time they reached the second-largest hospital in the city, it was almost evening. My husband flipped through the maternity records, comparing information to see if anything matched, searching for clues.

A nearby nurse mumbled, "This Samara Anderson... why can't I reach her by phone? It's way past her appointment time."

My husband paused for a moment but didn't pay much attention, perhaps thinking it was a common name. The truth was, it was my name, Samara Anderson. I, the one he thought a liar about being pregnant to escape from all the burden of blame, was here for a real checkup that day. I was not a criminal. I desperately wanted his child, but it was not meant to be.

Suddenly, the nurse spoke again, "Oh, that chaotic incident from three months ago... I think she might be the one at that time...."

Just then, Jayden's phone rang. "Captain Williams, we have a lead!"

He hung up the phone and rushed out the door. The very next page on the desk was my own hospital registration form.

My dear husband, just a little further, just a peek, and you would see the truth that screamed my innocence. You would know I was not lying.... and that your father's death was not my fault.

However, with renewed urgency, he raced back to the police station.

A bloody letter showed up at the police station, out of nowhere. It said, [Guess who I am? Hint: Baby doll.]

The letter seemed to appear by magic, in a spot the security cameras could not see. No clue who sent it. Everyone crowded around, looking pale. Could it be connected to... the fake fetus delivered the day before?

Jayden frowned in annoyance before taking out his phone. He pulled my number out of his blacklist once again and called me a bunch of times, but it went straight to voicemail. Frustrated, he sent another angry voice message on WhatsApp. "Samara, are you done with these tricks? Do you think I'll ever forgive you for this? Not in a million years! Never! You only make me hate you more!"

However, Zac looked serious at the moment. "Just to be safe, maybe we should check it out," he suggested.

Still, my husband was not having it. "Don't waste your time on that woman's prank."

Luckily, Zac was not convinced and insisted on investigating.

"I'm going to check the drug cartel’s files." My husband did not want to get involved in anything related to me, so he turned around and walked toward the archives room.

Meanwhile, Zac took a team to a nearby dump. They spent hours sifting through trash until they found the fake fetus my husband had thrown away.

Zac examined the fake doll carefully, turning it over and over in his hands. After a while, he accidentally pressed a hidden button.

"Ugh!"

A horrible fishy smell filled the air. Then, to his horror, a human-shaped object covered in dark red blood came out of the doll.

Blergh!

It was… a perfectly formed fetus!

"Hey, Jayden! Something terrible happened to Samara!" Zac burst into the archive room, looking extremely pale.

My husband's temper flared when he heard my name. "Whatever happened to her is none of my business! Don't even think about bothering me even if she's dead!"

"The fake fetus!" Zac blurted anxiously. "The doll from yesterday! It had a real, newly formed fetus inside!"

"Are you sure the fake fetus yesterday was really sent by Samara?"

My husband froze. "A... real, newly formed fetus inside?"

The day before, he assumed I was playing a prank and blamed me without even checking if I really sent the box. Now, there was no way to trace where it came from.

Zac's face turned grim. "Jayden, I have a worrying, scary suspicion. When was the last time you spoke to Samara?"

My husband stared back, his expression showed a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"That can't be right! Samara, she..."

Just then, another officer rushed in, panting. "Captain Miller, Captain Williams, we have a visitor for Captain Williams. She reported that..." He glanced at my husband and continued, "There's a missing pregnant woman named Samara Anderson! She's been gone for a week!"