While I was being tortured on a spinning wheel, my husband, Don Percival Tremaine, was introducing his new fiancée to the family.

His arm was wrapped around that nurse. “If I were to abandon a woman this good, I wouldn’t be fit to be the Don!”

"Liliana? She might as well be dead!"

My torturer plunged the knife into me. "One last chance. Are you going to call him or not?"

I gritted my teeth. "He doesn't want me anymore. What's the point?"

Ten days later, the FBI discovered a woman's badly decomposed body by the lake.

And the man who had wished me dead... lost his mind.

————————

1

When Percival Tremaine arrived at the scene, FBI agents were struggling to lift a corpse—crawling with maggots and gnawed by scavengers—onto the examination table.

After ten days under the scorching sun, it was little more than a putrid, stinking mess. Even the medical examiner stood to the side, shaking his head.

An agent, his face grimacing against the stench, handed Percival a sealed bag containing a tarnished cross necklace.

Percival glanced at it once and scoffed.

"This is definitely not hers. Don't waste my time."

With that, he turned to leave.

The agent, infuriated by his callousness, couldn't help but question him.

"And you consider identifying your wife's belongings a waste of time?"

"Are you even a man?"

Percival's steps halted abruptly, his fists clenched tightly.

"She is not my wife! She's a traitor who sold out the family for money! What right do you have to lay a guilt trip on me?"

"When I was diagnosed with cancer, when they told me I didn't have long to live, how did she treat me?"

"When I was going through chemo day and night, wasting away, my hair falling out in clumps, where was she?"

"When I was sobbing in agony every night, wondering why she abandoned me, did she feel even a shred of guilt?"

The agent stared, stunned, at the man unraveling before him.

Percival's nostrils flared, as if trying to wrestle down some raw, ugly part of himself.

"Sorry… I didn't know…"

The agent patted his shoulder in a silent, apologetic gesture.

What neither of them knew was that I was right there beside them, as light as air.

I waved my hands frantically, trying to make them see me.

"That's not what happened! It wasn't like that at all!"

I screamed until my throat was raw, desperate for them to hear.

"Percival, when you were getting cancer treatment, I was locked in an abandoned factory, being tortured."

"When you lost all your hair, mine was brutally shaved off too, a humiliation that cut deeper than any blade."

"When you couldn't understand why I had disappeared, I was in agony, praying with every fiber of my being that you would come and save me."

But.

He would never hear any of it.

Because I was now a soul with only a week of existence left, and I had used all my strength just to fly to his side.

Still, I couldn't tell him the truth.

I collapsed to the ground, helpless, as ethereal tears streamed down my face.

Almost in sync, the man's eyes reddened with unshed tears.

His broad shoulders slumped as he muttered to himself.

"When she left, she didn't take any of her jewelry."

"As if she'd already decided she was never coming back."

"So, Agent, don't call me again. There's no way she's dead, and there's absolutely no way this corpse is her."

With that, he turned and strode out of the medical examiner's office without a second glance.

Just as he walked out the door, the expression on a nearby forensic examiner’s face changed.

"Mr. Tremaine, wait a moment!"

At almost the same instant, Percival's phone rang. The hardness in his eyes melted, his voice turning gentle as he answered.

He didn't hear the examiner's call at all.

"Calista, did you have another nightmare? Don't be scared, I'm coming home right now."

"Do you still want that tiramisu from the Italian restaurant? I'll pick it up on the way."

He drove away with a smile on his lips, leaving the puzzled examiner to look at the agent.

"The test results just came in. The decedent's blood type is Rh-negative O."

"If I remember correctly, when his wife was injured and brought to the hospital, her records showed her blood type was also Rh-negative O, right?"

"She's the only person with that blood type in our Chicago database. Maybe you should try contacting him again."

Percival sped away, and I had to use all my spectral strength just to keep up.

I watched him carefully retrieve the tiramisu, placing it securely under the car's air conditioning vent so it wouldn't melt.

I remembered how I used to pester him for dessert, and he would always be so clumsy, jostling the box and ruining the cake.

It was only after my painstaking, word-for-word instructions that he finally learned how to keep a dessert perfectly intact.

He didn't even pause, rushing from the garage straight into the house.

Back to the villa that had been ours.

The moment he opened the door, a wave of disorientation washed over me.

It was the villa I had personally overseen the decoration of, yet in just six months, it had become completely unrecognizable.

The warm, comfortable Italian style was gone, replaced by a cold, harsh, modern minimalist design.

The classic velvet sofa was now a metal monstrosity with rigid lines.

Even our marital bed, where Percival and I had spent our most intimate moments, was gone.

It had been replaced by a lifeless, black king-sized bed.

Bitterness rose in my throat like bile. I remembered how I had once wanted to buy a classical mural to lift my spirits.

He had been engrossed in family business and had vetoed the idea without a second thought.

"What are you, an old woman? People will laugh at us for having that junk on the walls."

I had no choice but to concede, and in the end, I never bought it.

But now, six months later, the house was filled with the cold elements he had once claimed to admire.

He really had changed.

My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.

Seeing him return, Calista jumped into his arms barefoot, and they tumbled onto the sofa, laughing.

"You're finally back. What did the FBI want?"

Calista blinked her dark eyes, but the smile dancing in them was bottomless.

"Nothing much. They were just asking about things from before."

"Was it about Liliana?"

The moment Calista spoke, Percival's smile vanished.

"Let's not talk about unpleasant things. The dessert is going to melt. You should eat it."

Percival swept her up in his arms and carried her to the dining table.

Calista picked at the tiramisu, her face a mask of fragile innocence.

"Percy, I know that even though I'm here with you, your heart isn't."

The man froze, as if she had struck a nerve.

"That's not true…"

But in my heart, a flicker of hope ignited in the desolate silence.

She said his heart was still with me?

Did Percival still care about me?

The next second, Calista looked as if she was about to burst into tears.

"But there's something I have to tell you."

"Back when you first got your diagnosis, I overheard Liliana on the phone. She was complaining that you were wasting her time... and that it would be better if you just died so she could inherit the family fortune…"

"I felt so awful for you then, which is why I insisted on staying by your side after she abandoned you…"

She cried pitifully.

"I know I can't measure up to her, but please, promise you won't push me away, okay?"

I lunged forward, shouting.

"That's not what happened! It wasn't like that at all!"

That day, I was so nervous about you I ran to the restroom to dry heave.

When I overheard the doctors discussing your condition, I fainted.

When I woke up, I was in the middle of nowhere, with only that monster to torment me day and night.

The memory of those unbearable days made the world spin before my eyes.

Percival's eyes widened, and then he let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"So that's how it was. Calista, you're too kind. How could I ever betray your love?"

Rage flooded Percival's eyes as he cursed, the words torn from the depths of his soul.

"It's a shame I didn't die like she wished. Now I'm the one who wishes she were dead!"

"Even if I have to search to the ends of the earth, I'll find her and throw her into Lake Michigan to feed the fish!"

I laughed, and then I cried.

At that moment, how I wished I could take human form and tell him.

If I could see you again, I would be willing to die one more time.

But I would never have the chance.

Percival, you've already seen my corpse.

The atmosphere between them crackled, passion twisting into something raw and punishing. He shoved her onto the cold dining table, his hands tearing at her nurse's uniform. There was no tenderness, no kisses—only a brutal, animalistic possession. He gripped her hair, forcing her to take his furious thrusts, each one a punishing blow. Yet, through the violence, Calista moaned in perverse satisfaction, her nails digging into his back, drawing blood.

I kept a long, lonely vigil, my soul fraying at the edges, feeling as if it might dissipate into nothing.

The next morning, the agent called Percival again.

This time, Percival answered quickly.

"Mr. Tremaine, based on our further investigation, the body's characteristics and your wife's…"

"Are a very high match, is that what you're going to say? Well then, I have to see this for myself!"

This time, Percival didn't resist. His voice was filled with unconcealed excitement.

He hated me so much. He needed me to have died a horrible death.

Only then could the pain of the last six months be soothed.

I followed Percival as he sped to the medical examiner's office, where he eagerly confronted the agent:

"Did you find something?"

The agent, his expression grave, nodded solemnly and led him to the examination table.

"How tall was your wife?"

"Five-foot-six."

"How much did she weigh, approximately?"

"Around a hundred pounds."

"What's her blood type?"

"Rh-negative O."

"Did she have an eagle crest tattoo covering a scar on her right shoulder blade?"

Percival, who had been so nonchalant, froze. His pupils constricted sharply.

The medical examiner carefully lifted a flap of my rotted right shoulder to reveal the tattoo to Percival.

The Tremaine family crest.

Percival knew it better than anyone.

That scar was from when I took a bullet for him, one fired by a rival family.

And that tattoo was a family sigil he had tearfully sat with me to get, needle by agonizing needle.

Back then, he had just become Don and faced constant provocations from his rivals.

Some had even put a high price on his head.

So when I saw the gunman rush him, I didn't hesitate to shield him with my body.

I could be hurt, but the family he was so proud of could not be allowed to collapse.

Percival sniffled, his hands trembling as he took the report and read the physical data over and over again.

"We also discovered the deceased suffered nearly six months of inhumane abuse before her death."

"Her wrists are covered in ligature marks, as if she were bound to something for a long time."

"Her torso is covered in whip marks, the wounds having healed and reopened repeatedly. Her chest… is a festering mass of rotten flesh…"

"Her hair was violently shaved off, and her scalp shows signs of being burned, which is why we couldn't extract any usable DNA."

"And her lower body… it's even more horrific. Severe burns and ulcerations… This is the work of a monster…"

"But the deceased had a powerful will to live. It’s the only way she could have survived for six months."

The medical examiner spoke in a low voice, finally pulling the white sheet over my face, unable to bear looking any longer.

The report in Percival's hand fluttered to the ground. He tried to brainwash himself.

"It can't be her. How could it be that heartless woman? She'd throw anyone under the bus to save herself. She would never die…"

He shook his head, his hands instinctively trembling as he pulled out a cigar and lit it.

The examiner sighed.

"But in the last six months, among all the missing persons reports filed in Chicago, the only one who matches every single one of these characteristics is Mrs. Tremaine."

"You can't let your hatred blind you to the truth of who this is!"

"Shut up! Stop spouting nonsense! How could she be dead? She would never die!"

Percival's eyes were bloodshot as he frantically tore the report to shreds.

"I get it now. Did Liliana bribe you FBI agents to stage this whole thing?"

He laughed menacingly, pointing at everyone in the office.

"She must have put you up to this! How could it be such a coincidence? You're all so certain it's her!"

An agent stepped forward to restrain him.

"Mr. Tremaine, we understand this is difficult, but the test results don't lie. We are federal agents. We would never collude with anyone!"

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!"

Percival roared again and again, as if shouting could change the reality before him.

I stood to the side, my nose tingling, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Percival, I am dead, just as you wished.

Isn't this for the best?

Eventually, the staff at the examiner's office kicked the unruly man out.

He huddled under the eaves of a building on the street, looking like a dejected old man.

A sudden downpour extinguished his cigar.

But he continued to puff on it, oblivious.

His phone vibrated. He answered it, his voice lifeless.

"Who is it?"

"Hello, this is Giannini's Ristorante. Am I speaking with Mr. Tremaine? Your wife previously ordered a six-month course of a special medicinal diet for you. We were wondering if you'd like to renew it?"

Percival's eyes flew open.

"What?"

"Yes, sir. A Mrs. Liliana Tremaine ordered a medicinal diet for you six months ago. We haven't been able to reach her, so we had to call the emergency contact. Would you like to renew?"

Percival said nothing and hung up.

Then, like a dying fish, he gasped for air.

"How is that possible? How could she have ordered it?"

I sighed. Six months ago, I had sensed something was wrong with his health, so I pre-ordered the six-month diet.

It seemed someone else had taken the credit.

Percival's face darkened as he dialed Calista's number.

"Percy, when are you coming back? The engagement dress has arrived. I want to try it on with you."

Percival had no patience for pleasantries. He asked bluntly:

"That medicinal diet. You didn't order it, did you?"

Calista, on the other end, was clearly stunned.

"Percy, you found out?"

"Yes. I know now."

Calista immediately burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Percy, I didn't mean to lie to you! It's just that your condition was so bad, I had to pretend it was me who ordered it so you would eat!"

"I couldn't stand seeing you waste away day by day. I just wanted you to get better… sob…"

Hearing the girl's sincere confession, Percival's tightly furrowed brow instantly relaxed.

"I see. It was my mistake for blaming you."

Percival then asked:

"But you were the last person to see Liliana before she left. Did she say where she was going?"

Calista hesitated for a long time, as if making a difficult decision.

"Percy, I was going to take this secret to my grave, but since you're asking, I'll tell you…"

"When your initial diagnosis came back, Liliana was busy making overseas calls. I overheard something about going to Europe to meet someone, that she had to get there…"

"And she left in such a hurry, as if she was finally shaking off the burden that was you."

"Also, do you remember your first misdiagnosis? I looked into it. It was made by a doctor Liliana knew."

"It seems… she had been planning to leave you and claim your assets in Italy all along…"

After speaking, Calista sent Percival a recording from six months ago, along with "proof" of my relationship with that doctor.

"The only reason I didn't tell you was because I was afraid of destroying the last shred of fantasy you had about her…"

Percival hung up. The recording had been spliced together to make it sound like I was eager to dump him, this dead weight, and rush towards a new life.

But the truth was, I had immediately used my connections to contact a top oncology specialist in Italy, determined to take Percival there for treatment as soon as possible.

As for the doctor I was supposedly "close with," we had only met once at a dinner party.

And Calista had gone to such great lengths to gather all this "evidence."

She had been planning to frame me, to send me to my death, from the very beginning.

My heart sank.

I thought painfully of the torturer who had tormented me for six months.

He always blindfolded me, his abuse methodical, as if following instructions.

No matter how I begged him, even kneeling and kowtowing, pleading for him to let me go.

He was unmoved, sneering that what he stood to gain was far more than anything I could offer.

But he never revealed what the reward was.

Later, when he grew tired of me, he tied me to a spinning wheel and used me as a target for throwing knives.

His mood worsened, he drank more heavily, and he beat me more violently.

He would always snarl and call me a waste of money, trying to force me to call Percival for ransom.

But Percival's phone was always unreachable. Every time I failed to get through, he would torture me viciously.

But I still held onto a sliver of hope. I believed Percival would come for me.

I believed he must be trying every possible way to find me.

Until the day I died, when I saw the Percival I hadn't seen in six months say…

He didn't love me anymore.

All my strength left me, and I died in agony.

And now, a thought flashed through my mind.

That torturer, he might be connected to Calista!

Calista hired him to torture me but then refused to pay.

That's why he tried to force me to get money from Percival, and then, in a fit of rage, killed me.

Finally, tears streamed down my face as I shook Percival's shoulders frantically.

Trying to make him hear my accusation:

"It was Calista who hurt me! It was she who had me killed!"

"She's lying to you! I didn't abandon you, I didn't!"

But my fingertips passed uselessly through his shoulders. I could only watch helplessly as he nodded.

"I knew it. How could someone who wishes death on others possibly die herself?"

"She's probably in Europe somewhere, waiting for me to die."

"I understand. Our engagement party is in three days. I'll get ready."

The man hung up the phone in silence and viciously crushed the cigar.

Then he sped off in his car, driving like a madman.

I followed him desperately from behind, feeling my soul weaken bit by bit.

Once again, he had abandoned the truth.

He turned and chose someone else.

I cried out in anguish, watching powerlessly as he rushed towards his new life.

Percival, I won't be here to see the day you discover the truth.

And for the rest of your life, I will no longer be a part of it.

Percival went home and, as if out of guilt, made love to Calista again and again.

He turned off all his phones, seemingly determined to die in Calista's arms.

And I could only watch in agony and despair as they tumbled together, professing their love.

Three days later, at a top hotel in Chicago.

Calista, dressed in her engagement gown, waited shyly for the ceremony to begin.

She looked so beautiful. More beautiful than I did on my wedding day.

I blinked, trying to keep the tears from falling.

At noon, Percival, his face full of affection, walked towards her with a bouquet of flowers.

Calista eagerly threw herself into his arms, like a victorious princess.

She linked her arm with his and walked down the aisle.

By the time I arrived at the venue, breathless, their engagement party had already begun.

Percival only had eyes for her, as if from that moment on, she would be his only star.

There would be no trace of me left.

As the couple exchanged rings and the crowd was about to cheer for the ceremony's completion.

The doors burst open and FBI agents swarmed in, guns raised, shouting:

"FBI! Hands where I can see them! You are both suspects in the murder of Liliana Tremaine. We have sufficient evidence to bring you in!"