A Wife's Tragic End, His Awakening

nize me. My husband, Carter, was just the lawyer handling the "Jane Doe" fou

ss every part of me. The silver

ece of evidence,

severe heart condition kept me from donating bone marrow to his manipulative fiancée, Ce

stranger, blind to the fact that he was the

from a community center. He saw my face, alive and smiling. And in that in

pte

Bell

nsive suit pristine, his eyes scanning the scene not for me, but

n the unfinished luxury condo. The morning light, filtered through a grimy window, cast long, distorted s

feet away, vomiting onto a pile of sawdust. He was the one who found me. His tremb

uder, closer. They were coming for me. Th

aces were grim, their movements precise, trained. One of them, a stout woman with kind eyes

o one touches anything u

rode in. His presence commanded attention, ev

ing. He was here to manage the fallout, protect his client's interes

over the construction site, analyzing the structural integrity, the

omises of the unfinished luxury. My body was a canvas of brutality, painted wit

eath. My limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, a macabre sculpt

fear and decaying matter, was overwhelming. It was a smell I wo

brief, unsettling calculation. He took a shallow breath, then exhaled slowly, rega

ved hands, usually so precise with legal documents, moved with a strange, hesitant gra

e was so close. Close enough to see the small, silver locke

d in an old art studio. Inside, I' d etched a tiny, almost invisible, h

his lip curling just slightly. "A locket, Ava? From a craft store? Really?" He tossed

of desperate clinging. I knew he would

ned closer. "Mr. Rios, do you recognize this?" she asked, pointing to t

straightened up, his movements stiff. "No," he said

d for collection, just another objec