Abyndale, 9 a.m. The air was already stuffy with heat.
A colleague at the funeral home pushed in a young girl's body. She was badly damaged, multiple parts torn up, with gaping holes revealing raw flesh. It was gruesome enough—until everyone realized something worse.
The corpse was mutilated beyond recognition.
"Victim: female, aged 23. Manner of death classified as homicide. Autopsy findings indicate perimortem torture. Estimated post-mortem interval exceeded 72 hours at scene discovery. Next of kin requested craniofacial and soft-tissue reconstruction."
"Victoria, as our lead reconstruction specialist, you're assigned to this case. PD demands craniofacial restoration within 48 hours—they specifically requested your expertise. Handle with extreme caution: high-profile victim, compromised remains.."
Hearing this, a woman in the corner stood up.
Her soft waves of dark hair brushed her shoulders. She wore a crisp white shirt and jeans—slim frame, maybe too slim, though it couldn't hide her sharp, elegant features.
A few senior staff nearby exchanged troubled looks. "That's impossible. Minimum three days to fix something like this."
Victoria Ellis looked at the disfigured corpse for a beat. "Give me a day."
Everyone turned to her, stunned. This girl thinks she can finish that mess in a day?
The supervisor seemed pleased, handing her a new assistant.
"This is Chloe, just joined. Help her out, okay? The reference photo will be sent over shortly."
Victoria gave a quick nod and said nothing else.
People here were used to her silence by now. She'd been with them nearly six months—amazing skills, but distant. Always kept to herself.
Chloe followed her, helping push the body into a small clean room lined with equipment.
Victoria changed into a lab coat, tied her hair into a low ponytail, and rolled up her sleeves, pale wrists and slender fingers showing. She slipped on white gloves and pressed her hand onto the corpse.
It was cold—frozen solid kind of cold. Made your skin crawl.
She stared at the body, lashes lowered, side profile calm but distant.
"First, clean out the body fluids and dirt."
She glanced at Chloe, who looked like she might puke. Pale, trembling.
"Use forceps. Stuff cotton into the nose to stop leakage."
Even though she was new, Victoria didn't coddle her. Straight instructions, no sugarcoating.
Chloe hesitated, surprised by the directness, but obeyed. Her hands shook a little, but she managed.
Despite being scared, she worked carefully. It went okay.
Victoria, being the best in the field, could recreate an entire face from just a single photo—even with parts missing.
But the moment that photo arrived, something cracked in her expressionless face.
It was a picture of a smiling girl.
That smile... those eyes... stabbed straight into her heart. Her hands trembled uncontrollably.
That was her sister. Gina Ellis—the richest man's long-lost heiress in Abyndale, reunited with her birth family only two years ago.
Now she was gone.
"Victoria, are you okay?" Chloe noticed her strange look and stepped closer.
Snapping out of it, Victoria's face turned cold again. "Focus on your task."
She shut down the emotion and buried herself in work.
A day later, Gina's body had been fully restored.
In the break room, the TV was playing local news. The latest update on Gina's murder case. Then a middle-aged man showed up on screen—his face full of grief. He offered a reward of ten million for the capture of the suspect.The silver strands at his temples pricked at Victoria's heart a little—just a few years had passed, and he already looked worn out.
The supervisor walked in, praising her a bit before saying, "The family wants to meet you."
She paused, something unreadable flashing in her eyes.
"I'll pass. Just wanna go home and rest."
She declined plainly, not bothering to read his changing expression. Pulling off the white lab coat, her demeanor stayed as detached as ever.
She showered and headed home.
The moment she left, whispers started buzzing around the office.
"What's she got to be so high and mighty about? What's her background anyway? She's been here a year and the bosses treat her like royalty!"
"She's pretty though—maybe she's someone's kept woman?"
They all chuckled with a knowing look, already convinced Victoria had taken some shady path to get her position.
—
Drained to the bone, Victoria stepped through the door and had just changed out of her shoes when she heard movement.
Turning around, she saw Theodore Chambers walk in.
Clad in a sleek black suit with canary diamond cufflinks, the light carved sharp edges on his handsome face.
He caught sight of her, his gaze cool and distant as he loosened his tie.
Even with some space between them, she could smell the faint cologne on him—and the heavy scent of alcohol.
She frowned slightly and walked toward him. "You've been drinking?"
Theodore's eyes softened for a moment before he pulled her into his arms, his grip tightening around her waist.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but tonight, he felt a bit different.
She looked up, caught his dark eyes, and before she could say a word, his lips were on hers.
Still overwhelmed from dealing with Gina's body reconstruction, she clung to that sudden warmth—responding with a rare intensity.
His jacket and her white shirt hit the ground. The air between them grew thick with desire. They didn't even make it to the bedroom, tangled up right there on the living room couch.
Things spun out fast.
"Your safe days?"
Victoria nodded, already ignited by desire.
Her hair tumbled like silk over her shoulders, catching the faint light with every movement. Her skin, luminous and delicate, seemed to glow in the shadows. Theodore's hands found her waist with quiet authority, steady and assured—just like every part of him. In his touch, there was no hesitation, only the unwavering control he carried like a second skin.
But then, something hit her nose—another scent. Light but sharp, it shot straight through to her core.
Another woman's perfume.
She'd had her eyes closed, but now they opened—slowly.
Her fingers trembled slightly against his shoulder. Biting her lip, she forced herself to ask with red-rimmed eyes, "Theo, do you know who I am? Look clearly... I'm not her."
In everyone else's eyes, she was always composed. But only with him did she come undone—lost in emotion, overwhelmed by longing, stripped bare by everything she tried to hide.
And that name—she never even dared to say near him.
Whatever heat they had instantly shattered.
He stopped. Just stared at her, before his lips curled into something cruel.
Then Theo asked, "And you? Are you sure you weren't picturing Elijah Brooks too? That's why you were so into it, right?"
Every word stabbed like a knife straight through her chest.
Especially now—with them still caught in such an intimate position.
She didn't respond. Just gathered the broken pieces inside her, pushed herself off him, and with shaky hands, grabbed the white shirt from the floor.
As she stepped upstairs, his cold voice chased after her.
"Isabella is back. Let's get a divorce."
