When Arthur mentioned me, the anger and disgust in his eyes were unmistakable.

Before Caleb could say anything else, Arthur had already turned and entered the forensic lab.

While seventy-two hours might not be considered a challenge for Arthur, as he pieced together the clues, his frown deepened.

Both ring fingers were missing, and the remaining fingers had no usable fingerprints. Arthur sighed deeply at the corpse.

"The victim was approximately twenty-three to twenty-eight years old, female. There are multiple sharp force injuries throughout the body, about one hundred and eight minor wounds. The fatal wounds were two severe blows to the heart.

"Of all the body parts collected, two ring fingers are missing. The remaining fingers have residual highly corrosive liquid, making fingerprint identification difficult."

Caleb's brows furrowed. "This is absolutely inhumane! Such brutality! I swear I'll bring them to justice myself."

Arthur's face was filled with exhaustion as he added, "The method of killing is similar to ancient torture. Based on the condition of the wounds, it can be inferred that the perpetrator acted while the victim was conscious. It's equivalent to being flayed alive."

Upon hearing this, Caleb immediately rushed out of the forensic lab, ordering the officers to intensify the search and not let any suspect go quickly.

Such a dehumanizing method, coupled with the knowledge of how to delay police investigation, suggests the perpetrator likely has a criminal record.

The method even bears a striking resemblance to a case in Butterworth twenty years ago.

Arthur was indeed a professional in this regard.

From day to night, I went from struggling to despair. A rag was stuffed in my mouth, and wounds were continuously carved into my body. The pain washed over me as she wielded a craft knife, moving across my body like she was sculpting a piece of material.

With each cut, she would spray chili water on it, making me writhe in agony.

To delay the police, she put my hands into a smoking liquid. The intense burning sensation caused me to faint.

But she wasn't satisfied. She had someone splash me with cold water to wake me up and continue to torture me in different ways, but I still stared at her intently.

She ordered someone to strike my heart with a stone hammer, laughing eerily.

Only when she found that I was motionless and no longer breathing did she stop.

She then placed me on a rolling operating table.

I was in so much pain, so much pain...

Arthur frowned and picked up my hand to examine it closely.

My heart skipped a beat.

Did he recognize it?

On my eighteenth birthday, he gave me a bracelet.

It had both of our initials engraved on it.

He put it on my wrist.

My heart sank again.

How could he possibly recognize it?

That bracelet had been ripped off long ago. She said I didn't deserve it.

Now, aside from the prominent cuts on the wrists, there was nothing else to be seen.

This horrific method of operation led Arthur to the archives.

He skillfully found the file from twenty years ago among the shelves of case files.

[The Butterworth 8.16 Case.]

The previous group of perpetrators had been caught red-handed a month after the incident.

And my parents had sacrificed their lives in that arrest operation.

By the time their teammates arrived at the scene, my parents were already lying in a pool of blood, their bodies covered in countless minor cuts, fatal wounds, and blunt force trauma.

After that, I was taken to Arthur's house.

Back then, Arthur was like a big brother to me, comforting and caring for me, even giving me his most beloved toy.

Later, Arthur's father, Oscar Hastings, passed away, and the two of us were left to rely on each other.

When I fell ill with a high fever and talked nonsense in my dreams, calling for my parents, he stayed by my bedside day and night, taking care of me.

Later on, his first love, Mia, appeared, and he started to distance himself from me.

Then, when Mia moved in, she had an asthma attack as soon as she entered the house.

Arthur immediately blamed me and my cat.

I couldn't understand how twenty years of affection and trust could shatter instantly because of someone he had just met.

He questioned me, asking why I had treated Mia that way.

No matter how many times I explained, he wouldn't listen.

He was convinced that I was the cause of Mia's relapse.

We had initially planned to get married at the end of this year, but after that incident, he never mentioned it again.

The last time we spoke was when I was trying on wedding dresses. He said he was too busy to come.

"Check under her fingernails for DNA," Arthur said, placing my fingers in a bag and sending them to the lab.

I wanted to tell him.

"There is! There is! I left some behind!"

But no matter how many times I appeared in front of him, he passed right through me.

I drifted helplessly, tears soaking my cheeks once again. It turned out that even after death, people could still feel sadness and cry.

"Keep an eye on recent missing persons reports, especially those involving young women.

"Also, the blood samples have been sent to the city. Our equipment here is slower, but the results should be back in two days. Let Caleb know when he gets back. I have other matters to attend to, gotta go."

With that, Arthur took off his uniform and rushed into the pouring rain, heading towards the hospital.

"Arthur, has Claire been by to see you? Cookie's running out of cat food, and she usually brings some over," Amanda Morris called out.

Ever since Arthur wouldn't let me keep a cat at home, I've been keeping Cookie at Amanda's place.

Every week, I make sure to deliver cat food to Amanda's house on time.

Arthur's face darkened at Amanda's words. "I don't know, she hasn't come to find me!"

"Arthur, are you two having a fight? Claire usually answers her phone, and Cookie is her baby. Maybe you should give her a call and ask," Amanda suggested.

Amanda also lived in the police station dormitory.

She was a retired police officer and had watched Arthur and me grow up in this neighborhood.

She was like family to us.

I had actually bought a lot of cat food, but I couldn't deliver it anymore.

Cookie seemed to sense something was wrong and meowed at Arthur on the other end of the phone.

Arthur's expression grew more displeased, but he restrained himself because it was Amanda calling. "Claire and I have broken up," he said patiently. "I don't want to hear anything about her anymore."

"Was it because of Mia?"

Amanda had heard me mention her once before.

"What did Claire tell you?" Arthur's face darkened, his expression growing even uglier.

"Forget it, it doesn't matter what she said anymore, Amanda. I have something to do, goodbye."

With that, he hung up the phone and ran to a nearby flower shop.

He had carefully chosen a bouquet of exceptionally bright and beautiful flowers, instructing the clerk to wrap it like a piece of art.

I floated beside him, watching as a rare smile spread across his face, brimming with happiness.

It was the same smile he had on the night he proposed to me.

Entering the hospital room filled with the smell of disinfectant, he placed the bouquet beside the bed. Mia, seeing him arrive, coughed twice, her complexion growing even paler.

"I can take care of myself. Have you finished all your work?" she asked.

As she spoke, she covered her face and coughed violently again.

Arthur gently brushed away the stray hairs from Mia's forehead and said softly, "How could I leave you like this? As soon as I finished, I rushed here."

"Have they caught the serial killer?" Mia asked.

Arthur frowned. "How did you know?"

A flash of panic crossed Mia's eyes, then she composed herself and said, "It's all around. The cleaning lady mentioned it to me today."

Indeed, the news had already spread throughout the city; it was hardly a secret.

"Did they catch the killer?" Mia pressed on.

"Are you that curious?"

"After all, it's such a big case. I'm a bit scared, too, just hoping the police will catch the killer soon."

Arthur chuckled and affectionately ruffled Mia's hair. "Your main task is to focus on getting better."

Whenever I felt unwell in the past, he would comfort me with the same tenderness.

I stared intently at Mia.

Arthur had no idea who he was really dealing with!

Mia obediently closed her eyes and lay down.

Arthur's phone began to ring; it was a call from the station.

He stepped outside the hospital room to answer it.

"Arthur, your cake has been delivered. Is it your birthday today?"

"It was addressed to dear Mr. Hastings." The officers at the station teased him. "Could it be from Claire?"

At this, Arthur's face turned ashen. "Today isn't my birthday. You guys go ahead and eat it!"

As soon as the call ended, he muttered to himself, "I hate cream, and she knows it!"

Immediately, he dialed my number but only got a busy signal, with no response.

Frustrated, he called three more times, still unable to get through.

They took my phone away.

Initially, they planned to use me to extort some money. After the last call, they saw how few contacts I had and abandoned the idea.

They turned on my phone's camera and recorded everything.

Arthur was running out of patience.

Even if we argued, I would never ignore his calls, let alone not respond after several attempts.

He sent me several voice messages on WhatsApp. "Claire, stop bugging me! Can't we just let each other go?

"Also, your cat is nearly starving. If you can really be so heartless, then even if it dies, I won't help you deal with it.

"Don't think that hiding will make me soften and forgive you. As long as Mia isn't well, I won't forgive you!"

My heart felt like needles were piercing it, the pain making my whole body tremble.

Focused on venting his dissatisfaction on WhatsApp, Arthur didn't notice that Mia, as if nothing was wrong, was climbing off the bed with a fierce and sinister look in her eyes.

"Arthur, where are you?" Caleb's call came through. "There's a major discovery. Hurry back!"