Chapter 1
Seven years ago, I was the youngest chief forensic examiner in the city, about to uncover the truth behind the Red Dress killings.
On the night I was about to c***k the case, my fiancé Sean Shaw's first love conspired with the real killer to have me killed.
She used my own scalpel to stage it as a guilt-driven suicide.
By the time Sean stormed in with the police, she was drenched in blood, weeping as she claimed I killed myself to cover my tracks and tried to take her with me.
All that remained was a perfectly staged body and an airtight alibi.
Everyone believed her.
Sean despised me. He publicly branded me a disgrace to the forensic field, the greatest shame of his life.
The forensic center wiped my name from their records. My parents publicly disowned me.
My college revoked my honors, and the mentor I once respected denied ever teaching me.
My case became a cautionary tale, with colleagues condemning me for betraying the truth.
Once a forensic prodigy, I became the police force's greatest disgrace.
Seven years later, a nameless skeleton lay on the autopsy table.
And from my own bones, they forced the truth buried for seven years back into the light.
"Dr. Shaw, get over here! The bone age doesn't match the weathering." Fragments of conversation echoed around me. My soul hung in the cold air like a thin wisp of mist. A few young technicians in white coats worked carefully with their tools, gently cleaning my bones.
Standing behind them was Dr. Grant, the mentor I had once admired most.
"Notify Homicide. Time of death, within seven years. Start bone marrow DNA analysis and run it through missing persons." His voice was devoid of emotion, controlled as always.
He didn't realize these bones belonged to the student he once cherished most.
Then again, seven years was enough for flesh to rot away, leaving nothing but bones.
"That's brutal," a young forensic assistant murmured.
"Look at the rib cage and the skull. Those cuts are dense. It's like she was tortured alive. People who die like this usually crossed the wrong person. Probably a double cross…"
He seemed to remember something and added casually, "This MO's just like the Red Dress killings seven years ago. Didn't Lila end up the same way? She was a disgrace to the whole department."
Lila was the police force's disgrace.
"Enough!" The hand holding Dr. Shaw's clipboard gave a barely noticeable tremor.
Another assistant nudged him and chuckled under his breath. "Dr. Shaw, don't mind him. Leo's new. Still figuring things out."
"He's not wrong." With a cold snort, Dr. Shaw slammed the clipboard down and strode out, his back straight and unyielding.
"Those who betray their beliefs deserve to die," he said coldly.
The autopsy room fell into a silence so thick you could cut it.
"Are you crazy?" the sharper assistant whispered to Leo.
"Didn't you see Dr. Shaw's face just now?"
After he left, the autopsy room fell into dead silence.
"I... what did I say wrong?" Leo asked, sounding aggrieved.
"Did you forget about Lila from seven years ago? She was Dr. Shaw's favorite. She turned on him at the most critical moment, became an accomplice to the serial killer, and destroyed all the key evidence. She's a disgrace to the entire forensic field. Dr. Shaw hasn't smiled once in the past seven years because of it."
