My Wife Forged My Autopsy for Her Lover

My wife's prized student tortured me to death. My wife—a forensic examiner—falsified the autopsy report the moment she had the chance.

Then the killer, Sebastian Barnes, married her. My soul has never known rest.

Not until a serial killer on the run across the country kidnapped Sebastian.

The video spread across the internet like wildfire.

On camera, Sebastian was drenched in blood, fingers missing.

A mechanical voice droned in the background：

“The March 18 Dismemberment Case. The killer, Sebastian Barnes. Refuses to confess. Sentence: death by a thousand cuts.”

“Next, the accomplice, Julia Baxter. You have three hours to turn yourself in. Otherwise……you can come piece your dear husband back together yourself.”

The internet exploded.

But Julia Baxter—my wife, distinguished anatomy professor at Harbor City University, Harbor City's chief medical examiner—was still in her kitchen, oblivious, busy at the stove.

Making dinner for Sebastian, who was running late.

……

The table was already covered with dishes.

Professor Baxter, who once guarded her hands more carefully than her own life, was holding a knife, carving chrysanthemum tofu.

“Honey, are you happy with this now?”

The voice message she sent Sebastian sounded helpless and indulgent.

“I skipped your conference, I know. I'm the worst. Punish me however you want, okay?”

“Come on, answer me. Don't sulk.”

Nine p.m. She was reheating the dishes for the third time.

I drifted behind her, calmly counting the minutes.

This was the tenth year since my death.

In three more hours, Julia Baxter would die the same way I did.

Today. My death anniversary. Also her wedding anniversary with Sebastian Barnes.

A phone rang, shrill and urgent.

“Julia, something's happened! Something's happened to Sebastian!”

The color drained from Julia's face. She ran for the study.

The computer sat on the desk, as if someone had taken control of it, looping a mechanical voice：

“Turn yourself in, or your husband dies.”

She spun around instantly, stumbling as she reached the front door.

She ran every red light on the way.

Nine thirty. Julia sat in the iron chair of the interrogation room.

In the dim room, the camera hijacked by the killer blinked with a red light.

“Professor Baxter. You're late.”

Hearing the familiar mechanical voice, Julia clenched her fists and drew a long breath.

At Captain Bennett's nod, she spoke.

“I'm Julia Baxter. Whatever your conditions are, name them.”

“Yes, I ran that autopsy on the March 18 case. And I will swear on everything I am—there was no falsification. None.”

The captor wasn't satisfied. Sebastian's scream cut through, then was muffled.

Julia shot to her feet, and the iron chair yanked her back down.

The kidnapper sat in front of the camera, his pixelated face shifting in grotesque twitches.

“Professor Baxter, Joel Sullivan was your husband. He was tortured and dismembered, and you went out of your way to cover for his killer.”

“These past ten years, have you been sleeping well at night?”

“Ex-husband.”

Julia pushed her glasses up, her gaze cool with contempt.

“Joel Sullivan was suspicious, oversensitive, and twisted in his own head. That marriage was over long before anything happened.”

“Before the March 18 case, we were already in divorce proceedings.”

“Sure, we had some unpleasantness over Sebastian before that, but that's ancient history.”

She folded her hands and sat up straight.

“I'm a forensic examiner. Fairness and impartiality are what I do. Every single time.”

“Tampering with an autopsy over personal feelings? I wouldn't do it. I couldn't do it.”

Her patience ran out. She lowered her voice to a warning：

“What, you want to avenge him? Then go find the real killer.”

“Release Sebastian. Now. Because if you don't, I will not let this go.”

The kidnapper laughed.

“Is that so?”

“Professor Baxter really thinks I have no proof?”

“Proof doesn't scare me.”