Chapter 1

My boyfriend vanished without a trace three years ago. I searched every corner of the city, posted flyers, and exhausted every lead, but found nothing.

Until last week.

He suddenly appeared at my doorstep, covered in horrific wounds.

He told me he had been kidnapped and trafficked to an illegal brick kiln in the middle of nowhere, and it took him three agonizing years to finally escape.

My heart broke into a million pieces. Trembling with pity, I brewed him healing tea, dressed his wounds, and took care of him twenty-four hours a day for seven whole days.

But this morning, the police knocked on my door.

"We found a body at an abandoned brick kiln last night. The medical examiner estimates the time of death was about a week ago."

"The deceased is your boyfriend, Julian."

I froze. "That's impossible. He’s been staying with me all week."

***

"That’s impossible," I repeated, my voice shaking.

The detective opposite me frowned, pushing the case file across the metal table.

"Ms. Harper Vance, we’ve already run the checks. The victim had Julian’s driver's license in his wallet. The facial recognition database matches the missing person report you filed three years ago perfectly."

I could hear the tremor in my own breath. "But he’s been with me this entire week. In my apartment. He hasn't left the room."

The two detectives exchanged a heavy look.

The older one was Detective Carter. I had seen him dozens of times. Three years ago, I practically lived at the police station, pleading for updates every week. Then it became once a month. Eventually, I thought I’d never have to go back.

Detective Carter pulled a glossy photo from the manila folder and laid it in front of me.

I looked down, and my stomach instantly violently churned. A wave of cold nausea hit me.

It was a body, lying on a metal slab, eyes closed, skin a sickly ash-gray.

The background was dark, likely taken at the crime scene under harsh camera flashes. Every grim detail was painfully sharp.

It was Julian.

No, wait. It was his face. It was definitely Julian’s face.

I stared at the photo for what felt like an eternity, until Detective Carter gently called my name.

"Harper?"

I snapped my head up. "This isn't him."

"We ran the facial recognition. It’s a ninety-eight percent match." Detective Carter’s voice was flat, stating an undeniable, cold fact. "And he had Julian’s ID. Name, date of birth, social security number—everything matches the file from your missing person report."

"But—"

"Harper." He cut me off gently. "Julian’s immediate family has passed away. His parents died in a car crash shortly after he went missing three years ago. You know this, right?"

I knew.

Of course I knew.

Four months after Julian vanished, his devastated parents drove to another state following a fake lead about his whereabouts. They crashed on the highway.

I was completely numb back then. When I got the call, I didn't even know how to cry.

Later, I was the one who handled their funeral and packed up their belongings, thinking that if Julian ever came back, at least he would have something left of his family.

But he never came back.

"So right now, you are the only emergency contact we have on file," Detective Carter said. "We need you to come to the morgue to formally identify the body and sign the paperwork."

My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"He’s sleeping in my bedroom right now," I said, pointing toward the hallway. "If you don't believe me, I'll go wake him up. You can see for yourselves."

I stood up abruptly and walked toward the bedroom.

I was walking too fast, stumbling over my own feet, but I didn't care.

I pushed the bedroom door open.

The bed was empty.

***