Love's Betrayal: The Unseen Daughter

As a ghost, I watched my parents arrive at my crime scene. My mother, a renowned surgeon, and my father, the District Attorney, were there to consult on the brutal murder of an unidentified young woman.

That young woman was me. But they didn't know. To them, I was just Jane Doe, a messy case and an inconvenient headline.

My mother examined my broken body with chilling detachment, her analysis of the torture wounds purely clinical. My father arrived, complaining about the political fallout and the bad press.

Standing just feet from my corpse, they discussed their "missing" daughter-me.