But my soul did not follow her, but drifted back to Stephen's home.

A little girl curled up on the sofa, too tired to open her eyes.

Seeing her, Stephen slightly relaxed. He kissed her on the face and then carried her to the children's room.

I burst into tears and felt a sharp pain in my heart.

Nana...

After three years of separation, she was no longer the same as when she was just a month old, but we were connected by heart. I recognized her at a glance. She is my Nana...

My transparent hand gently touched the chubby little face of Nana.

Her eyebrows and eyes resemble me and Stephen.

This was my Nana, my baby...

Nana opened his eyes in a daze and whispered, "Daddy..."

"Have you found Mommy?"

Stephen froze, his eyes filled with complexity. "We will find her."

I broke down and cried.

My Nana... Mommy is so sorry for you... I thought.

I floated onto the small bed and lay beside Nana. As if sensing it, she turned over and nestled into my arms.

Even though I knew I couldn't touch her, I was afraid of waking her up.

My transparent hand gently patted her back. I hummed an off-key tune, just like all mothers soothing their children to sleep, gently coaxing her.

"Mommy..."

She nestled in my transparent embrace, murmuring softly in her dreams, her furrowed brow slowly relaxing as she entered dreamland.

After Nana fell asleep, Stephen gently rubbed her head. When he pulled his hand back, he found a strand of Nana's hair stuck to it.

He hesitated for a moment, inexplicably, took an evidence bag, and carefully put the hair into it.

He gently closed the door of Nana's room, sat on the sofa, and stared at the almost invisible hair in the evidence bag.

In the darkness, his figure was surrounded by an indescribable loneliness and solitude.

I don't know how long it took, I saw him reach into his shirt collar and take out a necklace from inside.

His fingertips gently touched the pendant of the necklace, with a gentle and trance-like expression, completely different from his coldness in front of my grandma during the day.

Seeing that necklace, I was a little stunned.

It was the first salary he earned from his part-time job when we just got together, a plain silver necklace.

Three years ago, when I forced him to divorce, I said that this necklace was cheap and had already been thrown away.

He hated me to the core, why did he find the necklace back, and still...

The feeling of cherishing?

After a long time, he took out his phone and flipped through the album to find a photo of me from three years ago.

I hadn't been disfigured yet, and there was a happy smile on my face.

He operated the phone and kept zooming in on the area around my collarbone in the photo.

Right there was a small mole.

He seemed to think of something, took the car keys, and rushed to the dissecting room.

On the cold dissecting table, the white cloth imprinted my mutilated figure.

He stood in front of the dissecting table, stunned for a while, and finally reached out his trembling hand to lift the white cloth.

Holding the phone, he eagerly searched for that small mole on the corpse, comparing it with the photo.

As if he wanted to prove something.

Unfortunately, a hideous scar extended from my neck to my collarbone, with flesh and blood flying, revealing the bone.

But the trace of the red mole had long disappeared.

He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I knew it, how could that woman possibly die!"

After a pause, he took out his phone, opened WhatsApp, and sent a message to the WhatsApp account I used three years ago.

[Betty Gordon, are you disgusted by this pretending-to-be-dead trick!]

[Even if you were dead, I would never forgive you!]

My heart couldn't stop aching, but this path was chosen by myself.

If hating me could make him feel a little better, I would rather have him hate me for the rest of his life.

The police were busy going crazy trying to find the source of the corpse.

Stephen was focused on the autopsy room and painstakingly stitched my mutilated body parts together.

But my head was so badly damaged that it was completely unrecognizable as a human form.

He worked tirelessly for two whole days and nights to repair my head.

Although my face has long been destroyed, my shadow can still be faintly seen from the repaired skull.

Stephen was a little stunned, muttering to himself, "How is that possible..."

"That woman has always been wicked and has caused trouble for so much. How could she die so easily..."

The assistant looked puzzled and asked, "Mr. Green, do you know the deceased?"

Stephen shook his head in despair, took out his phone, and quickly typed a message, [Betty Gordon, stop pretending to be mysterious! The way you are doing it makes me feel even more disgusted with you!]

I was very nervous as I looked at the carefully stitched body on the dissecting table.

Did he recognize me?

It seemed like he was in a hurry to prove something. He quickly found Dylan, who was in charge of my case, and retrieved my grandmother's information. He found her phone number and took out his phone, preparing to make a call.

Suddenly, his gaze fell on a line of words.

[The granddaughter, Betty Gordon, died unexpectedly three years ago.]

His pupils contracted, and his blood froze instantly.

"How is this possible?"

His face turned pale, "Betty Gordon, died three years ago?"

"The investigation results confirm it, and the system also shows that Betty Gordon's household registration was cancelled three years ago."

Dylan was puzzled, wondering why the forensic doctor was so shocked.

"Mr. Green, do you... know her?"

Stephen lost control, "How is this possible!"

"She must be deceiving me! She is cunning and must have faked her death to avoid my revenge!"

"I've seen through her tricks!"

Dylan, combining with Stephen's previous interview, instantly understood that this "Betty Gordon" who had died three years ago was the malicious ex-wife he had to find no matter what.

He supported the stumbling Stephen.

"Mr. Green... Restrain your grief..."

Dylan's words, like a heavy hammer, ruthlessly struck Stephen's heart.

He suddenly sat down on the chair, his eyes filled with disbelief.

At this moment, a police officer rushed over.

"We found it! We found the identity of the deceased!"

"Mr. Green, the hair sample you sent, when compared with the deceased's DNA, has a similarity rate of 99.99%!"

The police officer gasped for breath, "Mr. Green, the sample was sent by you, and there is a parent-child relationship with the deceased. Can you contact the owner of the sample?"

Stephen was stunned for a long time, and suddenly his pupils shrank, "This is impossible!"

"Betty Gordon died three years ago, didn't she?"

"How can a person die twice?"