My Wife Forged My Autopsy for Her Lover

Julia was certain she'd covered every trace. “I don't care if you're doing this for Joel Sullivan or anyone else. No one's going to believe a murderer.” “Smear us all you want. Sebastian and I are clean—completely innocent!” “And Joel? He can't even stay quiet in the grave. Should've been dust and ashes a long time ago.” I stood behind her, a twisting ache deep in my chest. I'd been dead a long time, but the love and the hatred hadn't faded. Day after day, night after night, I watched them live their happiness while the memory of being torn apart ground through me without end. “He must've been quite the charmer. Dead and gone, and people are still crying injustice on his behalf.” Julia let out a cold laugh, glancing around the room. “Joel Sullivan, if your ghost is here, listen carefully.” “You threw acid on Sebastian and scarred him for life. I never even settled that score with you.” “I'm carrying Sebastian's child now. If you keep stirring up trouble from the other side, don't blame me for digging up your grave and whipping what's left of your corpse.” I drifted in front of her. Those eyes that once brimmed with love held nothing now but a resentment so sharp it burned. Julia, do you really think I'd haunt you even in death? Ten o'clock. Another scream. Blood spattered the camera lens, and Julia jerked backward. The kidnapper wiped the lens with a blood-soaked glove, leaned in close, and let out a low, amused laugh. “I'm not here to watch you perform.” “Professor Baxter, if you won't talk about yourself, then let's talk about Sebastian Barnes.” “How'd he get you to fake the autopsy—sleep with you?” The words hit and Julia's breathing broke hard. Behind the gold-rimmed glasses, her eyes went lethal. “How do you know that?!” A single instant of exposure. She caught herself almost immediately, smoothed her expression, and signaled Captain Bennett to pause. She walked straight out of the interrogation room and knocked on the tech division's door. “I can stall for another hour at most. The kidnapper's patience is running out.” “Sebastian is still in their hands. You need to trace that IP address as fast as possible.” She paused, hiding the tremor that had crept into her hands without her realizing. “One more thing. The kidnapper is wearing a designer gown. Track it down. Only a handful were sold in the entire city.” I drifted behind her, watching her leave the tech room and step into the corridor. She stood alone and dug her nails hard into her palms. She opened the phone's photo album, scrolled deep, and found my picture. She stared at it for a long time. “Joel Sullivan, why won't you leave me alone?” “It was just an accident. You're already dead—why can't you forgive him?” “You always were petty……” She tilted her head back. Her body slid down the wall, all the strength gone from her legs, until she crumpled to the floor. Inside the album was a folder named after him. Tens of thousands of photos, every one taken by her own hand. The one glowing on the screen showed me holding up a wedding ring, laughing. In ten years, she had looked at it more times than she could count. But she could never bring herself to look at the ring itself—the one they'd pried from my shredded flesh. Julia couldn't let herself remember the moment she'd written those words: “No notable forensic leads found on the remains.” She closed her eyes and walked back into the interrogation room. On the other side of the wall, the tech team was rapidly narrowing the search, closing in on the kidnapper's location. I followed close behind Julia, watching her feign grief, her jaw clenched so tight the muscles stood out. I wanted to reach out and slap her across the face, again and again. But my hand passed through nothing. The clock read ten thirty. After several rounds of back and forth, Julia's composure was fraying. She paced the room. “What do you want me to say?!” “If it'll bring Sebastian back alive, I'll die in his place!” The kidnapper stared at her. Then the laugh came—loud, unrestrained. “Professor Baxter, you know exactly what to say.” He raised one hand and mimed shaking a reagent bottle.

Julia's body went rigid. Of course she knew. The reagent bottle—that was where every last sin began. On the other side of the soundproof glass, someone who'd worked an acid case before couldn't hold back： “Both sides share some blame here. Is it really necessary to keep hammering at Julia's role?” “Seriously. She's probably just stalling. An hour and a half until the deadline and he kills the hostage!” Inside the room, Julia's face had gone so pale it was almost translucent. Captain Bennett frowned slightly and pressed her earpiece, relaying through the wire. “Tech just traced the kidnapper's signal to……Professor Baxter's residence.” “I've already sent a team to rescue Mr. Barnes. All you need to do is keep the kidnapper talking.” Julia let out a hard, shaking breath of relief. But the next instant her pupils shrank to pinpoints—because the kidnapper had just produced the real evidence, the kind that ends everything. On camera, a bloodstained piece of shirt fabric appeared. Striped. The stitching was clearly amateur, but neat. “This belonged to Joel Sullivan. It was on him the night he died.” “I've examined it. The killer's fingerprints and blood are still on it.” The kidnapper coughed, a dry, exhausted sound, and took a sip of water before continuing. “Professor Baxter. You hid this in your home. Did you really think I wouldn't find it?” That was the first shirt Julia ever made for me by hand. An anniversary gift. Ten years ago, I wore it to dinner and was murdered. Julia said nothing. Slowly, she turned her face away. The panic in her eyes was impossible to hide. Her hands lay on the table, every finger trembling. “Impossible.” She murmured it, so faintly that only I, pressed against her back, could hear. In the silence of the interrogation room her heartbeat hit like something detonating—beat after beat after beat, fast and savage, a sledgehammer cracking against her ribs. A night from ten years ago flashed through Julia's mind. A rainstorm. Sebastian, drenched in blood, coming to find her. Lightning illuminating his features, half-dissolved by acid, like a helpless ghost. “Professor Baxter, I killed someone……” “Don't wait for him. Joel's not coming back……I didn't mean to, Professor……the pain in my face, it was too much.” “Professor, I don't want to go to prison……please.” Back then, she'd given in. For the next half hour, Julia didn't move. No matter how Captain Bennett urged her, she sat as though turned to stone, not saying a word. I drifted overhead, watching her, my thoughts impossible to still. The first time we met, I was wearing a striped shirt. She was carrying a heavy anatomy textbook when she crashed into me. Before I could even speak, Julia had already launched into a perfectly straight-faced explanation：“Blunt-force impact can cause contusions and subcutaneous bleeding. You should let me walk you to the infirmary.” I only found out later that she'd engineered the whole thing—camped out in the library for a full week waiting for me, then tipped off a friend in the medical school. Make sure the injury sounds serious. Insist he needs someone with him for the follow-up. Julia was never a romantic person. Spending every day with the dead had made her quiet, hard to get close to. People called her the dissection fanatic. But only I knew that after anatomy lab we'd sneak off to the alley behind campus for offal hotpot. She couldn't handle spice, but she'd order the hellfire broth without flinching. “When you love someone, you want to do the same things they do.” She could replicate my walk perfectly, every small habit. She knew the length and width of every bone in my body—had even commissioned a little plastic skeleton figure built to my exact proportions and clipped it to her backpack, fiddling with it every day. The day I proposed, I was out in Westmere State for an academic conference. And somewhere in that same region, a killer who only targeted young men was still on the loose.

The third murder happened right after the symposium ended. The victim was found in the alley behind the venue. Julia thought it was me. She rushed there like she'd lost her mind. We locked eyes across the police tape, and hers went red in an instant. “Joel……if you die, I won't go on living.” “Let's get married.” I nodded, tears still falling. So young then. So stupid. I really believed love could last. I stared at the wedding band on Julia's finger, turning it over and over in my mind, and none of it made sense. The moon hung high and full that night—but its light was never meant for me alone. After the wedding, Julia was appointed as a special-hire professor at Harbor City University. Among the first cohort of students she mentored, Sebastian Barnes was the most unusual. His parents were divorced and his family had nothing. He had nowhere to go during breaks, and I felt sorry enough to let him stay with us. As the days stretched on, I started to realize something was wrong with him. Expensive cufflinks and watches kept disappearing from the closet. We had a housekeeper, but he acted as if she didn't exist. He took pleasure in ordering me around instead. If I refused, Sebastian would erupt into hysterics： “Joel, I'm depressed, okay? If someone pushes me too far, I'll kill myself!” “And then Professor Baxter and you—you'll both have blood on your hands! What kind of teachers do that to someone?” His gaze slid past me and landed on Julia's face. Not pleading. Triumphant. He was an intruder who had seized my home and was already scheming to claim my wife's attention. From that day on, the accidents started. He swapped the potted plants in the guest room for flower arrangements on purpose. The allergic reaction put him in the hospital. He missed his thesis defense, then told everyone I had deliberately sabotaged his graduation. On the stairs, he would suddenly collapse. He'd let everyone blame me for pushing him, for being cruel. To help him finish his degree, I invited him into my lab to earn extra credits. He turned around and upended a full bottle of sulfuric acid over me. I hit the floor screaming, rolling, clawing at myself—and my little finger was already gone. The sirens were still wailing in the distance when Sebastian tipped what was left of the bottle onto his own face. Blood ran down his cheeks as the acid hissed and bubbled, and he was still smiling： “Joel, you lost a finger. I lost my whole face.” “So tell me—who do you think she'll feel sorry for?” When I woke again, the hospital room was empty. I lay there a long time before I could bring myself to sign the forgiveness letter. He was young. He was sick. I didn't want justice—I just wanted him gone from my life. But when I found Sebastian's room, I heard him cooing at her through the door. “Professor, I only got hurt because of Joel. You have to take care of me for the rest of my life!” And my wife agreed without a second thought. “If you still trust me, then of course I will.” Sebastian trusted her, of course. But I didn't. Not anymore. Just then, Captain Bennett pushed open the door. “Professor Baxter, no one else has been in or out of your home.” “But the kidnapper's signal traces back to the Baxter residence. Have you considered the possibility that Sebastian Barnes staged the whole thing himself?” At the mention of Sebastian, even the most even-tempered senior officer at the station darkened. “Suicide threats at the drop of a hat. Nobody can talk him down except Professor Baxter.” After Sebastian moved into our home, it only got worse. Sometimes in the middle of the night he'd come clutching his blanket, knocking on the master bedroom door, begging Julia to soothe him to sleep. I told Julia he needed a doctor. She cut me off, irritated. “Sebastian is terrified of doctors. Are you trying to push him over the edge?” “When did you become so heartless?” Julia was five months pregnant when a prenatal scan flagged a possible abnormality. I arranged to take her for a follow-up that weekend. But outside the obstetrics ward, I walked straight into Julia—the one who'd told me she couldn't come because of a work trip.

She bit her lip and shrank back two steps, playing fragile. When Sebastian came out, she asked right in front of me how the baby was doing. My vision blurred red on the spot. Before I could say a word, Sebastian dropped to his knees： “Joel, I had no idea you were here too……” “I was only worried about Professor Baxter going through the abortion alone, so I came with her.” “I'm sorry, but there really is nothing between us! Please, I'm begging you, just let me be……” As he spoke, he turned to Julia and broke into sobs. Julia's brow creased. The look she gave me was terrifyingly cold. “Joel, instead of wasting time looking for trouble, why don't you go deal with that garbage you bought.” “If Sebastian hadn't pointed out that a baby soaked in formaldehyde was never going to be viable, we wouldn't even be here.” The garbage she meant was the stroller I'd bought for the baby. The little toys. I stood there for a long time, frozen, until the doctor called my number. I walked in and set down the prenatal report confirming the malformation. “She's not coming.” The baby was gone. Everything I'd prepared could be thrown away. I dragged myself home. Julia was standing at the door. She paused, then said： “You rushed out this morning and left all those jujube slices from your tea sitting in the sink. Clean it up.” “And there's hair on the floor. Sweep it.” “Tessa's coming by later to revise her paper. She can't stand mess.” I braced myself against the sink and wept. After that, I never went home again. I threw out every pair of shorts, every short-sleeved shirt—anything that bared skin—and buried myself in long sleeves, long pants, drifting through the days and nights like something hollowed out. I was probably sick too. Julia's apology didn't come until half a month later. I put on a pinstriped shirt, took the divorce papers, and went to meet her. I wanted to give this marriage a decent ending. What I got instead was the end of my life. I came back to the present and heard Julia's answer, sharp as a blade. “Impossible! Sebastian isn't Joel. He wouldn't gamble with his own life!” “Besides, I'm his wife. I can tell he's terrified.” Her voice cracked as she went on. “Sebastian has low sperm motility. It took us so long to conceive. If anything happens to him, I won't survive it either.” “Captain Bennett, please. Help me find him.” “We've already got people running down the gown buyer. Tech is working on reconstructing the kidnapper's face right now.” “Before midnight. We'll have him.” Right then, a cheer erupted from the tech unit. “Got it!” Julia's head snapped up, her eyes full of hope. “We've cracked the mosaic data. Our specialists are reconstructing the facial composite now.” Claire stood and handed Julia a cup of water. “Relax.” Her tone was easy. Her gaze was not. Julia murmured her thanks and took the cup without really seeing it. Claire's eyes flickered：“Professor Baxter, do you know the kidnapper? You're both left-handed.” The water in the cup lurched. “No.” Julia lowered her head. The next second, the expert's video call connected on the main screen. “The facial reconstruction is done! She's……” Julia Baxter's face filled the screen.