Chapter 2

Four years ago, I died inside a concrete mixer on a torrential, rainy night.

Cole furrowed his brows in disgust, picking up the skull with forceps and placing it onto a rotating turntable.

"Fractured mandible, collapsed zygomatic arch, older healed fractures on the supraorbital ridge."

As he examined it, he delivered his usual venomous commentary:

"Took a severe beating before she died. With injuries like this, it's most likely a crime of passion or revenge. Probably wasn't much to look at, either. The bone structure is miserable."

A bitter smile touched my invisible lips.

Cole, that wasn't what you used to say.

You used to cup my cheeks in your hands, telling me my facial bones were a masterpiece, that I was your muse, the most exquisite work of art you'd ever known.

Now, I'm just an ugly, miserable Jane Doe to you.

"All right, get out," Cole said dismissively. "Come back in three days for the results."

Parker nodded and slipped out the door.

Only Cole and I remained in the studio, surrounded by shelves of vacant plaster skulls.

Cole lit a cigarette. He didn't smoke it, just let it burn down between his knuckles.

He stared at my skull, his gaze turning distant.

Suddenly, he pulled open a desk drawer and took out a photograph.

In the photo, I was smiling brightly.

He ground the glowing cherry of the cigarette straight into my face on the glossy paper, burning a black, smoking hole right through it.

"Mia."

He ground out my name through clenched teeth.

"That five million dollars you stole... have you burned through it yet?"

"While you were living your glamorous life overseas, did you have any idea I almost died on that operating table?"

A phantom agony ripped through my chest.

Even though I no longer had a heart to beat.

Four years ago, he was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor. He needed five million dollars for an experimental surgery.

To raise the money, I went to beg the wealthy real estate mogul who had been relentlessly pursuing me.

I never imagined it was an ambush.

I never got the money. Instead, they beat me to death and dumped me into the foundation pour.

And to crush any hope Cole had left, that developer fabricated wire transfers and fake international flight records under my name.

Cole, I never took your money.

I gave you everything. Even my life.