Five years after my death, the Port City police finally dug up my bones. Inside my mouth, they found a custom-made microchip and a miniature transmitter. Everyone on the force knew what that meant. It meant that five years ago, I wasn't the shame of the PCPD, and I certainly wasn't a traitor. It meant that even while being tortured beyond human endurance, I never stopped trying to transmit intelligence on the drug cartel. My wife became a wreck, my brother swore vengeance on my killer, and the rage from it all landed my mentor in the ICU. But me? Floating as a soul in the air, I could only laugh. The killer? Wasn't it the man standing right beside my wife? Her childhood friend, Jakie Kinnear? 1 Five years ago, I was silenced by a conspiracy between Jakie and the drug traffickers. He used my ID to hack into the system and leak the entire list of undercover officers, leading to the brutal retaliation and murder of over a hundred of our own. When my wife, Cathy, led the SWAT team to bust down the door, they found him covered in blood, sobbing. He told them I had sold out my colleagues for profit and had even tried to kill him to cover my tracks. He claimed that if backup hadn't arrived when it did, forcing me to flee, he would have been killed on the spot. The staged crime scene, the internal system logs showing my access credentials, and a massive wire transfer that appeared in my mother’s medical account—it all corroborated the story Jakie spun. My betrayal was a fact. My wife’s love for me curdled into a bottomless hatred. My mentor publicly disowned me. My own brother, who once idolized me, took out a newspaper ad to sever all ties. Abandoned by everyone I loved, I became the ultimate disgrace of the Port City Police Department. Until five years later, when they finally busted a major drug ring. While searching the dog kennel the traffickers used to hide their product, they unearthed the skeletal remains of a man, buried for five years. They unearthed me. They were about to pack up when a K-9 suddenly started barking furiously at an old oak tree in the corner of the yard. I floated in the air, watching the German Shepherd tear at the ground, dirt flying. The officer in charge was my brother, Mark. The last time I saw him, he was just a rookie with a hot head. Now, he was leading his own team. Seeing the dog’s frantic behavior, Mark frowned and raised a hand. “Dig.” Several officers immediately grabbed shovels and surrounded the spot. The first shovelful turned up nothing but dark soil and tangled roots. They dug deeper and deeper, but still, there was nothing. Just as they were about to give up, a shovel struck something hard with a dull thud. “Got something!” They cleared the dirt away, layer by layer. But instead of the drugs they expected, they found a skeleton, curled into a fetal position, with horrifying scraps of tissue still clinging to it. Mark knelt, his brow furrowed so tightly it looked painful. “Get the M.E. and forensics down here,” he ordered, his eyes never leaving the remains. He didn't recognize me. He couldn't see that this grotesque collection of bones was the brother he once worshipped. I suppose it made sense. Five years underground is more than enough time for insects and decay to strip away familiar flesh, leaving only this. Mark pulled on a pair of gloves and gently brushed his fingers over the crisscrossing knife marks and canine bite marks etched into the bone. The medical examiner arrived quickly. He knelt and examined the skeleton, his voice calm and clinical. “Time of death is estimated at five to six years ago. Multiple sharp-force injuries and canine bite marks are present. The victim suffered prolonged torture before death.” He pointed to the deep cuts on the larger bones. “The wounds are numerous and widespread, suggesting a retaliatory motive.” “Retaliatory?” a young officer nearby murmured. “Five to six years ago… in a drug lord’s kennel… You don’t think this is connected to that botched operation, do you?” “When the undercover list was leaked, a lot of our guys were targeted. Many of them just disappeared. This could be one of them,” another officer added, before spitting on the ground. “All because of that traitor, Alex Chen. Sold out his own for money, got so many good cops killed. He’s the goddamn shame of the PCPD.” Alex Chen. The shame of the PCPD. Mark’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. “Shut up!” an older officer who had been there five years ago snapped, elbowing the younger cop. He then forced a strained smile. “Mark, the kid’s new, doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Don’t take it to heart.” But Mark just let out a cold, bitter laugh, his eyes sharp. “He’s not wrong. Traitors to the badge deserve to be nailed to a cross.” He stood up, his voice like ice. “And one day, I’ll be the one to drag that bastard Alex Chen back here myself.” I hovered in place, my soul feeling like it was being torn in two. The traitor they were talking about… the one who sold out his friends, his badge, his soul… was me? My thoughts spiraled into chaos. How could this be? I died protecting that evidence. How could I possibly be a traitor? Just then, the M.E. leaned in closer, noticing something odd. “Strange. The jaw is clenched shut. It looks like there’s something in his mouth.” Every head snapped in his direction. The M.E., wearing latex gloves, carefully tried to pry open the mandible. But after five years, the bone was fused tight. “It’s locked too tight. Forcing it here could cause damage,” he said grimly. “We’ll have to take it back to the lab for a full examination to see what’s inside.” I was still drowning in confusion, the weight of the injustice and rage a poison dissolving my very essence. Just as the overwhelming emotions threatened to extinguish me completely, an irresistible force pulled me away. When I came to my senses, I was floating down the brightly lit hallway of the city precinct, trailing helplessly behind a tall, sharp figure. It was my wife, Cathy. She wore a crisp uniform, the insignia on her shoulder indicating she was now a Captain. Five years had stripped away the last traces of her youth, leaving behind a sharper, more defined silhouette. But a permanent weariness clung to her like a shadow, a gloom that sunlight could never seem to pierce. “Captain,” the M.E.’s voice cut through my haze. “We have the preliminary results. TOD is five years. Multiple sharp-force injuries and animal bite marks. We can confidently say it was a torture-murder, retaliatory in nature.” “DNA is still being processed. But if the victim turns out to be one of ours…” The M.E. paused, his voice dropping low. “Then there’s a high probability he was a victim of that failed sting operation five years ago.” Cathy’s hand, hanging by her side, curled into a fist so tight her nails dug into her palm. Her jaw clenched, suppressing a wave of emotion. “Cathy?” A gentle male voice interrupted. Jakie Kinnear, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, walked up and slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. She didn’t flinch or even look at him, as if the touch was a well-worn habit. My heart sank like a stone. Jakie nodded at the M.E., then turned to Cathy, his voice soft. “Don’t overthink it. You’ve been working around the clock to take down this crew. You need to go home and rest.” He paused, his tone becoming more intimate. “Besides, Lily misses you. You can’t leave her with the Captain forever. A girl needs her mother.” After a moment of silence, Cathy finally nodded. Watching her, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. A horrifying suspicion exploded in my mind. My soul followed them back to the home that was once so familiar to me. The door had barely opened when a little girl with pigtails came bouncing towards them, shouting cheerfully, “Daddy! Mommy!” The icy mask on Cathy’s face melted instantly. She swooped down and lifted the girl into her arms, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Was Lily a good girl at school today?” Jakie followed, smiling as he pinched the girl’s cheek. “Good? Her teacher said she was stealing blocks from the other kids again. She’s a little rascal, not a proper young lady at all.” Just then, our old mentor, Captain Chen, emerged from the kitchen carrying a pot of soup. “Perfect timing. Wash up, dinner’s ready.” He wiped his hands and picked up his phone. “I’d better call Mark. That kid’s probably trying to live on instant noodles again.” The call connected. “Get over here and eat!” the Captain barked into the phone. “Alright, alright, I know you. Hold on, I’ll have Jakie bring some over.” Mark’s voice came through the speaker, laced with a smile. “Thanks, Captain! You’re the best! Tell Jakie I said thanks, too!” “You little punk,” the Captain chuckled, hanging up. He turned to Jakie as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Jakie, would you mind running this over to Mark? Once he gets buried in a case file, he forgets to eat.” “Of course,” Jakie said, taking the insulated container. “Happy to.” The exchange was so seamless, so routine, as if it had happened a thousand times before. I floated in the air, numbly watching the perfect picture of domestic harmony below. The man who orchestrated my murder had taken my place, enjoying the affection and the titles that were once mine. And my wife, my brother, my mentor… they had all accepted it. A searing pain ripped through the core of my soul, a pain so intense it felt like my consciousness was being ground to dust. Captain Chen was still talking to Mark on the phone, his voice filled with concern. “Solving cases is important, but your health comes first. You can’t be like Alex…” My name. It fell into the room like a shard of ice, shattering the warmth. All conversation stopped. In the suffocating silence, the little girl blinked her big eyes. “Mommy, who’s Alex? Why did everyone stop talking?” Cathy’s arms tightened around the child, her face draining of all color. Jakie’s smile froze on his lips. Sensing the shift, the girl fell silent. The Captain cleared his throat, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “Look at me, getting old and senile. No reason to bring him up… my fault, my fault.” Mark’s voice, deliberately light, piped in from the phone. “That’s right, Captain! You’re getting old. Eat more, talk less!” Jakie forced a pained smile. “Captain, Mark, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that.” “Before… everything happened, Alex was a good cop. He did a lot of good. It’s natural that it’s hard for everyone to accept. I understand…” Clang! Cathy slammed her spoon back into her bowl. The sharp sound of ceramic hitting ceramic echoed in the silent room. Her face was a dark storm cloud, her voice dripping with undisguised disgust. “Enough! Don’t say that name. It dirties your mouth.” The fragile peace shattered again. A flicker of triumph, almost imperceptible, crossed Jakie’s face, but he continued to play the peacemaker. “Cathy, don’t be like that. The Captain and Mark are here, and besides…” “She’s right!” Mark’s voice cut through the phone, sharp as a razor. “After what he did, I stopped considering him my brother. As far as I’m concerned, Jakie, you’re the only brother I have.” The Captain’s face hardened, his tone unyielding. “To sell out your brothers in arms for money… he is a permanent stain on this department’s history!” “If I had known, I never would have taken him on as my student! I wish I had never met him!” I floated, and I listened. Every word was a white-hot poker, twisting and stabbing at a soul that no longer had flesh. The pain was a thousand times worse than any torture Jakie and the traffickers had inflicted upon my body. My revered mentor, my own flesh and blood, the woman who was my entire world… Their words hurt more than anything. After this united front of condemnation, the suffocating tension finally broke. The air in the room seemed to warm again, filled with the camaraderie of a shared enemy. The Captain went back to lecturing Mark about eating properly. Jakie smiled and got ready to leave with the food. Cathy’s icy expression softened as she picked up her spoon again. Lily, sensing the storm had passed, started humming softly to herself. They sat together under the warm lights, the aroma of food filling the air, a perfect, happy family. And I, Alex Chen, had been erased by the people I loved most. Replaced. Forgotten. Like a ghost who had never existed at all. … I first met Cathy seven years ago. She wasn’t a Captain then, just a fiery young detective working a stolen goods case. I was a cybersecurity specialist, a white-hat hacker on loan to her unit. The case was at a standstill. All conventional methods had failed. In a briefing, I proposed a radical plan: use hacking techniques to trace their online sales network from the inside out. But it required someone to go undercover to an offline meeting point. Everyone thought I was insane. The risks were too high, the chance of success too low. Only Cathy. Her eyes lit up. She stood without hesitation, her voice clear and firm. “I think it’ll work. I’ll go undercover. What do you need me to do?” The fire in her eyes that day burned itself into my heart. The operation was a success, and our relationship blossomed with every case we worked side-by-side. She remembered I only drank sugar-free cola when I was coding, that I needed a cup of extra-strong coffee to function after an all-nighter. Everyone said I was the luckiest man alive to have found a wife so capable and caring. I thought so too. We got married. We were happy. I thought we would walk this path together until we were old and gray. Then Jakie showed up. He was Cathy’s childhood friend, the boy next door. He returned from overseas with a fancy title—Network Security Expert—and was assigned as her partner. At first, for Cathy’s sake, I tried to be friendly. But then, Jakie would call, complaining he was lonely or stressed, and she would drop everything—including the dinner we were in the middle of making—to go drinking with him. Jakie would claim an old injury was acting up, and she would leave me sitting alone in a restaurant full of our relatives to drive him to the hospital. The final straw was our anniversary trip, a vacation we had planned for months. One call from Jakie, a simple, “Cathy, I’m feeling down,” was all it took for her to cancel our flights. As I stood there, abandoned again, I finally realized the painful truth: whenever Jakie was around, I would never be Cathy’s priority. Her warmth, her focus—it was never exclusively mine. The resentment and anger I’d suppressed for so long finally erupted, and we started fighting constantly. Every time, she would look at me with that same exhausted, uncomprehending expression. “Alex, you weren’t always this petty.” “Jakie’s new here, he’s having a hard time adjusting. What’s wrong with me helping him?” “I spend my days chasing leads, my nerves are shot. It’s not like your job, sitting comfortably in front of a computer! I don’t come home to listen to this nonsense!” “If there was something between us, it would have happened long before you! Can’t you just be rational for once and stop imagining things?” Her words were like needles of ice, piercing the softest parts of my heart. Not fatal, but a constant, dull ache. I was so tired. During our last fight, I looked her in the eye and said, for the first time, “Cathy, let’s separate.” I never expected the backlash. Our colleagues said I was being paranoid, stressed out from work. My mentor slammed his fist on the table and called me a fool for throwing away a woman like Cathy. My brother called, confused. “Bro, you’ll never find another woman like her. Stop being stubborn!” Even Cathy grabbed my hand, her eyes red, her voice trembling. “Alex, what do you want from me? Please, don’t say that. Anything but that.” I felt trapped, surrounded by a chorus of pleas and accusations. Just as I was about to suffocate from the isolation, Jakie approached me. He wore a perfect, apologetic smile. He offered to join my ongoing investigation into the dark web drug cartel as a “technical consultant.” He swore to me, his tone almost pleading, “Alex, I know you have the wrong idea about me. After this operation is over, after we help you take this organization down, I’ll request a transfer. I’ll disappear from your lives forever, I promise.” I almost laughed in his face. I had already discovered he was far less competent than his reputation suggested. I turned him down flat. But somehow, he always knew our next move. Every time we were close to a breakthrough, he would conveniently appear, disrupting our progress with some seemingly plausible excuse—an “urgent” piece of intel that turned out to be useless, or a supposed “security breach” that required us to halt operations. The investigation dragged on. The pressure from our superiors mounted. I was backed into a corner. For the sake of finally bringing down that poison-peddling cartel, I gritted my teeth, swallowed my pride, and agreed to let him join the team. I thought I was trading a compromise for the greater good. Instead, I traded it for a one-way ticket to hell.
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