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.

All those years ago, Samuel and I had grown close while working together. Eventually, we got married. It was not a grand affair, since my undercover status made that impossible. Still, everyone at the station celebrated with us, and we handed out sweet wedding gifts.

That should have been the start of my happiness. But Samuel started becoming increasingly argumentative.

"What’s the big deal about giving her a ride home after a late shift? We’re just colleagues."

"Can you stop being so unreasonable?"

"I’m begging you, Emilia. Quit being so paranoid. I told you, Jas and I are just friends!"

Had any of that been true?

What kind of "friend" chatted casually about lacey underwear every other day? What kind of "friend" accidentally sent bathrobe-selfies to someone else’s husband? And what kind of "friend" took time off work to go hiking with said man while his wife was home recovering from a miscarriage?

And the worst of it all, I still remembered the call Jasmine made while drunk.

"Sam, why didn't you wait for me? I know you still love me!" she cried.

Samuel did not answer right away. He had to get away from me first.

He went to the bathroom and turned the faucet on full blast to mask his voice. "Yes, Jas. I still love you," he said solemnly. "But it’s too late. I’m already married to Emilia. If there’s a next life, I won’t let you slip away again."

But Samuel had forgotten who I was. I was not just any cop. I was the best undercover agent, trained to endure the harshest of conditions. He really thought the sound of running water would have kept me from hearing his every word?

That was the first time I confronted him, but instead of empathy, he met my pain with frustration. "What do you want from me, Emilia? Will this never end?

"Are you going to treat me like a criminal too? I married you, didn’t I? What more do you want?"

Each word stabbed at my heart. Through sobs, I choked out, "You're the one who proposed to me, Samuel."

He responded by storming out and slamming the door behind him. I spent that night curled up in bed, sobbing hot tears.

The next day, I submitted my application to return to undercover work. I figured we needed time apart to clear our heads. And that decision had cost me everything.

The mission given to me involved staging a raid, and we planned to use a third-year police academy student as the hostage. We were going to use someone trained, with some combat skills, and a fresh face. It was the perfect setup for the operation. But somehow, the drug lord took Jasmine hostage instead.

Her presence threw me off. I hated her. She had become a constant shadow, always trailing after Samuel. She tagged along to crime scenes, clinging to her position as the team's forensic intern. That was a job Samuel had pulled strings to get her.

Meanwhile, I, his wife, felt like an afterthought.

But I was a police officer, and my duty came first. No matter how much I despised Jasmine, I would not let her die. Even if it meant sacrificing myself. That was why I secretly slipped her a knife to defend herself.

But instead, she used it to stab me in the back. And just before plunging that blade into me, she screamed for all to hear, "This woman is Emilia Crux! She’s an undercover cop!"

The whole scene was a nightmare. Even the drug lord could not have dreamed of such a gift landing in his lap. I felt like I had been plunged into a sea of ice water.

"Why?" I gasped, my voice weak.

"Because you disgust me." Jasmine sneered. "While Sam and I were on a break, you seduced him and tricked him into marrying you. You’re the most shameless person in the world, Emilia."

"Do you even realize what you’re saying?" I asked in disbelief. We were surrounded by dangerous criminals, drug dealers ready to kill. Yet here she was, betraying me over a man.

Jasmine said nothing more. She turned to the drug lord, her expression twisted with malice. "I’ll buy you time to escape. Just make sure Emilia doesn’t make it out alive."