I was once the best undercover agent in the police force. But during the final raid of my career, I was betrayed and killed by my husband's first crush. From that moment on, the world believed I was a traitor. My name, my honor, everything I had fought for, was erased.

Now, even in death, I watched as they lived the life they stole from me. And I was left with one burning question: how had I ever fallen so far?

The dismembered body parts on the autopsy table were swollen like giant jellyfish, with pale yellow mucus oozing steadily out of them. It must've smelled awful. Not that I could tell. I was dead.

"The chief's here," said Dylan Hale, the forensic pathologist, glancing up as the door creaked open.

Police Chief Samuel Wharton then entered, pinching his nose, his expression tight. "What’s the situation?"

"The body parts are bloated beyond recognition. No visible tattoos or identifying marks, but we can barely confirm the victim is female. It's pretty brutal. A lot of bones were smashed before dismemberment." Dylan sighed. "But there’s something interesting. The moss found on the safe suggests the body’s been underwater for about five years."

Samuel paused, his hand frozen mid-air as he adjusted his face mask. His surprise flickered briefly before he joined Dylan, leaning in to examine the remains.

Five years? I had been dead for five years?

Hovering above them, I smirked bitterly. After my body was dumped, my soul drifted through the depths of the ocean, lost in that silent abyss where even the fiercest storms could not reach me. It was only a few days ago that a fishing boat, illegally straying into restricted waters, stumbled upon me.

But, I never expected Samuel the chief of police to oversee my autopsy himself. If I remember correctly, he was a neat freak.

"Ugh!" Dylan groaned. The stench of a bloated corpse was far worse than a regular body. Even he, seasoned as he was, grabbed a trash bin and vomited after making the first cut.

Samuel stepped back, his face scrunched in disgust. After a moment, he asked, "Jasmine isn’t here today, is she?"

"No. She’s off trying on wedding dresses," Dylan replied, wiping his mouth. "Don’t worry, Chief. I won’t say a word to her about this. You’re trying for a baby, right? This smell wouldn't be good for her."

"Mm." Samuel nodded, his cold eyes softening, a tenderness in them I had not seen in years.

This display hit me like a lightning bolt. The man I had loved, the man I thought would always be mine, was marrying Jasmine Bardot? The very woman who killed me? And they were trying for a baby?

"Samuel Wharton! How could you!" I screamed, my voice shaking with rage. "It was Jasmine who murdered me!"

But no one could hear me.

The autopsy went on.

"The organs and skin are too swollen to retrieve any usable DNA," Dylan muttered. "We could try the bones or teeth, but the skeletal remains are completely shattered. And worst of all, there’s no skull in this pile of body parts. The killer wanted her erased from existence." He slammed his fist on the autopsy table. "And to make things worse, we found the remains of a developing fetus in the victim’s uterus. It's not even three months along."

I froze, staring blankly at the table below. My grotesque, swollen uterus lay open on the table, revealing a tiny fetus still connected to me by a fragile umbilical cord.

I had been pregnant?

A sharp, needle-like pain surged through my heart, threatening to tear me apart. I wanted to cry and scream. Even when Jasmine tortured me day and night, the agony had not crushed me like this.

My child… They should have been born healthy, growing up happy and full of life, calling me "Mom" in a sweet, innocent voice. I would have loved them with everything I had. But Jasmine murdered me, and everything ended five years ago in that abandoned factory.

Even Samuel, hardened as he was, stayed silent for a long time before finally speaking. "We’re looking at either a crime of passion or revenge."

Dylan’s anger flared. "This is definitely a crime of passion! The cuts on the body are uneven, meaning the victim was still conscious when they were decapitated. And the killer knows their way around a body. The perpetrator was probably a woman. Otherwise, why go to such lengths to torture the victim?"

I let out a bitter laugh. Dylan, who used to tremble at the sight of a corpse, had grown sharp over the years. He was right on the money.

Samuel frowned though. "Police work requires evidence. Probably? Is that how a forensic pathologist should speak? Is that what they taught you back in school?"

Samuel had always been meticulous, never jumping to conclusions. It was how he overturned wrongful convictions early in his career and rose quickly through the ranks. But when it came to my case, he was quick to judge. He always trusted Jasmine—the woman who, even after abandoning him for money, remained his perfect, innocent crush.

How pathetic.

Dylan pouted. "I am speculating, but corpses never lie. Look here, Samuel. The skin is waterlogged, but there’s an unusual dark greenish-blue tint to it. That suggests severe decay before death. On top of that, the lungs show signs of extensive infection, and both kidneys are swollen and hardened. These are classic signs of high-dose drug injections."

Samuel’s eyes locked on him. "Did you say drugs?"

Dylan blinked, startled. "Y-Yeah, why?"

"Nothing." Samuel turned away, his voice cold as he removed his mask and headed for the door. "By the way, has your team found any DNA matches to Emilia Crux recently?"

"You mean the traitor?" Dylan frowned, caught off guard by the shift in conversation. After a moment, he shook his head. "No. It’s strange, really though. There was so much blood at the scene. She must’ve been severely injured. But after years of searching, we haven’t found a single trace of her getting medical treatment. Could she be dead?"

Samuel paused in the doorway, and the air suddenly became thick with tension. After a sharp, bitter laugh, he muttered, "Hmph. Death would’ve been too kind for that traitor. Everyone, including Jasmine, trusted her. But she got greedy, sold us out, and defected to the drug lord. She sabotaged the mission, got our colleagues killed, and nearly got Jasmine killed too."

He then growled, "If it weren’t for this damn badge, I’d hunt her down to the ends of the earth and tear her apart myself."

I could not believe what I was hearing. I wanted the universe to tear me apart right then and there. Hearing those words from the man I had loved most was sickeningly ironic.

"Exactly! She didn’t deserve to be a cop!" Dylan chimed in with a nod of disdain. "A wolf in sheep’s clothing like her deserved far worse. They should strip her of her title and erase her from the records!"

"That’ll happen soon," Samuel muttered, his fingers hovering over the door handle before he pulled it and stepped out.

My mind went blank. Those records… Every mission I survived, every bullet I dodged, all the bleeding and bruises, all in the name of honor. That was my legacy. It was more precious than my life itself. And because of Jasmine, Samuel was willing to erase it all?

I wanted to grab him by the collar and scream at him. Had he ever truly loved me?

Halfway down the hall, Samuel’s phone rang, and I was forced to follow as he answered. His voice softened. "Wassup, Jas?" A smile tugged at his lips.

From the other end, I heard that woman's playful voice. "Are you done yet, Sam? All these dresses are so beautiful. I don't know which one to pick. Come help me!"

"Alright, I’ll be there soon," he replied, affection spilling into his voice as he quickened his pace.

Somehow, as if drawn by some unseen force, I was pulled along with him, all the way to the bridal shop.

"Sam!" Jasmine, radiant in a form-fitting white mermaid gown, flung herself into Samuel's arms.

He smiled as he gently adjusted the glittering tiara on her head and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "You look stunning."

"Oh, this is stunning?" she teased, tilting her head with a playful pout. "What if the next one is even better?"

"Babe, let’s get one thing straight." Samuel wrapped his arm around her waist. "These dresses only look good because you make them look good."

Jasmine blushed, playfully hitting him. "You’re so annoying!"

The scene was unbearably romantic. The staff giggled and whispered, calling them a perfect match.

But Samuel had not been like this when I was trying on wedding dresses. He was always too busy. He would say that as long as I liked it, he had no opinion.

What was he busy with exactly? Helping Jasmine rewrite her job application.

"Ah…" Jasmine suddenly winced as she trembled.

Samuel quickly loosened his grip, guiding her to a chair. "Your leg acting up again?"

She smiled weakly. "Just a little."

"I swear I’ll catch Emilia one day," Samuel growled, teeth clenched. "You risked your life to go undercover as a hostage, trusting her with the plan, and she turned on you. She injured your legs, and you nearly ended up disabled."

No! That was not what happened! Jasmine was the traitor! Why was I being condemned based on her story alone? Samuel, where was your sense of justice, your thoroughness?

Rage twisted inside me, but it did not matter. Their love, their happiness—none of it could be touched.

"I was recommended a top orthopedic surgeon," Samuel said, his voice gentle again. "After the wedding, we’ll pay him a visit. I know how much you love wearing high heels."

"It’s fine." Jasmine smiled softly. "I’ll be in flats again when I’m pregnant, anyway."

"That’s not the same," Samuel insisted, taking her hand and placing a tender kiss on her fingers. His gaze was filled with sincerity. "Jas, I want you to live exactly how you want, every day, without having to compromise."

Her eyes misted over. "Oh, Sam…"

They kissed deeply, passionately.

I stood there, helpless, as my heart shattered into pieces. Echoing in my mind was the memory of Jasmine’s mocking voice on the night I died.

"So what if you and Sam are married? You’ll never compare to me, his one true love."

She was right. In Samuel’s heart, I had never been the one. He had never fully trusted me. The one for him was always Jasmine.

After groveling before rich scions—desperate to marry into wealth—and being cast aside because of her lowly background, Jasmine returned to Samuel’s side as his flawless, perfect crush. Everything about her was a noble sacrifice, a tragic circumstance.