Too Late For Regret,He Found My Cold Body in the Morgue

I had been hiding from Ethan for three years. Finally, he found me in a suburban funeral home morgue. When he and Chloe showed up, I had just finished prepping today’s last body. Seeing them again, I didn't feel as terrified as before. Mainly because I had almost saved up enough money for my assisted suicide in Switzerland. He saw my clumsy movements and my limp. For once, he didn't immediately scream at me. "Looks like you've had a miserable three years. But then again, a piece of trash like you doesn't deserve a good life." Hearing his bitter sarcasm, I only smiled quietly and said nothing. But my smile only enraged Ethan further. "Serena! Don't think acting innocent will wash away your sins! I was fooled by your smile back then, and that's how you got the chance to kill my mother!" As expected. Three years, and he still hadn't let it go. Chloe saw the tension and quickly stepped in to play peacemaker. "Ethan, don't blame her. You know your mother's death is Ethan's eternal pain." Then, as if remembering something, she pulled a gold-embossed invitation from her bag and handed it to me. "By the way! Ethan and I are getting married at the end of this month. We’d love for you to come." Looking at the invitation, I smiled and shook my head. "No, thank you. I'm leaving the country soon." Hearing that I was leaving the country, Ethan's face darkened instantly. He strode forward and grabbed my wrist. "Leaving? You think you can just run away after killing someone?" He squeezed so hard my bones ached. Because of my ALS, my muscles were already stiff. When he jerked me, I stumbled forward uncontrollably. I tried to steady myself, but my leg nerves were too slow to respond. To him, it looked like I was resisting. "Stop playing weak!" Disgusted, Ethan dragged me straight out of the funeral home. I wanted to explain that my legs didn't work properly, but my throat tightened. My tongue felt knotted, and I could only make muffled, slurred noises. I was shoved into the back seat of his car. Chloe sat in the passenger seat. She glanced at me through the rearview mirror, her eyes unreadable. The car sped all the way back to that familiar villa on the hill. "Get out," Ethan ordered coldly. I struggled to move my legs. My movements were awkward and agonizingly slow. Losing his patience, Ethan grabbed me by the collar and dragged me into the mansion like a dead dog. "Go clean my mother's old room." He pointed to the second floor. "That is where you will pay for your sins." Clutching the banister, I dragged myself up step by step. My hands had no strength. Every step took everything I had. The room was spotless. Clearly, someone cleaned it every day. He just wanted to humiliate me. I picked up a cloth, my hands trembling as I wiped the table. Chloe walked in, holding a glass of red wine. "You must be exhausted. You shouldn't be doing this kind of dirty work." She pretended to help me but deliberately bumped into my side. I lost my balance. The cloth flew out of my hand, knocking a picture frame off the table. With a loud crash, the glass shattered all over the floor. It was the only photo of Ethan’s late mother. Hearing the noise, Ethan rushed upstairs. Seeing the mess on the floor, fury flared in his eyes. "Serena!" He lunged at me, pinning me against the wall by my throat. Suffocation hit me instantly. Looking into his bloodshot eyes, I knew he really wanted to kill me. "You couldn't even leave her photo alone? What is your heart made of?" I wanted to explain that Chloe bumped into me. But I couldn't see Chloe. She had already hidden behind Ethan, looking terrified. "Ethan, don't blame her. It was probably an accident. Even though she always hated your mother for opposing your relationship back then..." Chloe's words were fuel to the fire. Ethan's grip tightened. Just as my face was turning purple, he let go. I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. "Killing you would be too easy," he said, looking down at me like I was garbage. "Kneel on the glass. Apologize to my mother." I looked up at him, trying to find a trace of our past love. But there was only endless hatred. I bit my lip and slowly dragged my knees forward. Sharp pain pierced my pants, stabbing deep into my flesh. Blood quickly soaked through my clothes. I didn't make a sound. I knew begging would only satisfy him more. Arthur, the butler, sneaked in later to hand me a glass of water. "Miss Serena, please have some water." I was about to thank him when Ethan roared. "Who let you in?" Arthur's hand shook, and the glass shattered on the floor. "Arthur, you're fired. We don't need servants who pity murderers in this house." Arthur was fired because of me. The guilt crushed me. Chloe walked over, her voice dripping with pity. "That must hurt so much, Serena." She knelt down, lowering her voice. "Ethan still hasn't recovered from the pain of his mother dying under his lover's scalpel. Please understand." Before I could react, she grabbed me and dragged me toward the walk-in freezer at the back of the kitchen. She threw me inside and locked the door from the outside. "If you want to repent, you need to show the right attitude, don't you?" I was weaker than a child now. I couldn't fight back at all. The freezing air wrapped around me instantly. For an ALS patient, extreme cold is a deadly catalyst. My hands and feet began to lose sensation. The stiffness quickly spread to my torso. My consciousness started to slip. Just when I thought I would freeze to death, the door cracked open. It was Arthur. Before leaving for good, he had risked everything to come back and leave the door slightly ajar, giving me a lifeline. I crawled out of the freezer, burning with a high fever.The next morning, I was woken up by a bone-chilling cold deep in my joints. My fever hadn't broken. My head felt heavy, like it was filled with lead. I had to go to the funeral home. I couldn't miss today's shift, or I would lose my attendance bonus. Dragging my stiff, wooden legs, I made it to the funeral home, only to find a crowd gathered at the entrance. As soon as I appeared, a barrage of cameras pointed straight at me. "That's her! The killer doctor!" "She’s hiding here making money off dead people! How disgusting!" Someone even thrust a phone right into my face. On the screen was the trending headline: #EvilFemaleDoctorNowProfiteeringOffTheDead. It was paired with a photo of me working yesterday. The angle made me look dark and sinister. The article detailed the medical accident from three years ago. It claimed I had failed to get a kickback and deliberately botched the surgery. Some even said I used patients as human lab rats for my research! There was even a photo of me kneeling at Ethan’s house last night. The caption read: "Soft-hearted billionaire takes her in, only for the wicked woman to smash his late mother's photo in revenge." They were trying to ruin me completely. The manager of the funeral home looked at me helplessly. "Serena, maybe you should lay low for a while." "If you stay, we can't do our jobs." The families of the deceased were also there, extremely agitated. Someone threw an egg. The yolk ran down my forehead, smelling foul. Rotten vegetables and stones rained down on me. Like a sewer rat, I fled in humiliation. I wanted to explain. I wanted to say I didn't do it. But no one listened. Covered in filth, I went back to my rented apartment. It was a tiny, damp room in a rundown neighborhood, but I had lived there for three years. My landlord was standing at the door, flanked by a few burly neighbors. "Oh, look who's back. The big star," the landlord sneered, crossing her arms. "Pack your trash and get out. I don't rent to murderers. It's bad luck." I leaned against the doorframe, fighting off the dizziness. "Ma'am, my lease isn't up yet..." "Lease? A piece of trash like you wants to talk about a lease?" A neighbor pointed at my face. "Exactly! The cops were just here asking questions. This is a respectable community. We don't want scum like you here!" Looking at their hateful faces, I felt utterly powerless. "I can pay more." I pulled two thousand dollars in cash from my pocket. It was my only living expense. "Just let me stay for one more month. Just one." Once I saved enough to go to Switzerland, I would leave. I humbly offered her the cash. The landlord glanced at the money and suddenly slapped it out of my hand. The bills scattered everywhere. "Keep your dirty money and get out!" She kicked the door open, ran inside, and threw my suitcase out. The suitcase tumbled down the stairs, bursting open. My clothes, toiletries, and my most precious medical journal scattered across the floor. I was pushed and shoved out. "If you don't leave now, I'm letting the dogs out!" The iron gate slammed shut in my face. I knelt on the ground, picking up my belongings one by one. My fingers were too stiff to hold a pen. It took me ten minutes just to pick up my journal. My phone kept vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was flooded with hateful texts from random numbers. "Go die!" "How can you still show your face?" "If I were you, I'd have killed myself already." Weakly dragging my broken suitcase, I found a bench in a nearby park to spend the night. It was a brutally long night. I checked my bank app. I was still ten thousand dollars short. If I could just work a few odd jobs, or sell the jade bracelet my mother left me... I could finally go to Switzerland for assisted suicide. It was my final wish. I wanted to die with dignity. As a former genius doctor, it was the last shred of pride I had left. When dawn broke, I tried to stand up. But my knees felt like they had been poured with concrete. I couldn't bend them at all. My condition was worsening fast.I gritted my teeth and went to the bank. I wanted to withdraw all my savings and buy the earliest flight ticket. Anywhere, as long as I could leave this place. Even if I died on the streets of a foreign country, it would be better than being pointed at by everyone here. At the counter. The teller worked for a moment, then looked at me with a strange expression. "Miss, your accounts have been frozen." My ears started ringing. "What?" "All your accounts are frozen due to a massive civil lawsuit." Before I could process this, several people walked up behind me. "Serena, right? You've been served." A thin piece of paper fell into my hands, but it felt as heavy as an anchor. Plaintiff: Ethan. Cause of Action: Medical Malpractice & Liability. Damages sought: Fifty million dollars. Fifty million. Looking at that astronomical number, I laughed out loud. That was the price of his mother’s life, and mine. He wanted to cut off my every escape. The money I had saved over three painful years—money I had starved myself and even sold my own blood to gather—was gone in an instant. My Switzerland. My dignity. My pride. All gone. I walked out of the bank. Passersby seemed to recognize me, whispering and pointing. "That's her, the killer doctor." "I heard she's in massive debt now. Serves her right." Suddenly, a car sped past. Instinctively, I tried to dodge, but my stiff body refused to obey. The side mirror clipped me, knocking me hard to the asphalt. My knees slammed into the curb, sending a white-hot flash of pain through me. Instead of apologizing, the driver rolled down the window and yelled. "Trying to fake an accident for cash? Look at yourself! You must be desperate for money!" I lay on the ground, unable to get up for a long time. No one came to help. There were only cold phone screens recording my misery. With great effort, I dragged myself into a narrow alley. I just wanted to hide. But a few sketchy men blocked the exit. The leader twirled a wooden bat, his eyes scanning me filthily. "Well, well, if it isn't the famous Dr. Serena. I hear you owe Chloe... oh, sorry, you owe a lot of people a lot of money?" They were hired by Chloe. "I don't have any money." "No money? Then you can pay with your body." Dirty hands reached out, groping me. I fought back with everything I had, biting one of their hands. The man cursed in pain and delivered a brutal punch to my stomach. "You bitch! We tried to be nice!" Then came a rain of fists and kicks. I curled into a ball, protecting my head. The pain flared from everywhere, but strangely, this physical agony felt easier to bear than the crushing despair in my heart. When they got tired, they spat on me and left. "We'll beat you every time we see you!" I lay in the filthy puddles, staring up at the narrow strip of sky. The sky was gray. My world was gray. Using my last ounce of strength, I crawled out of the alley. In this massive city of a million lights, not a single one was kept on for me. By some strange pull, I found myself back at the funeral home. It was where I had worked for three years, and the closest place to death. It was late at night. The security guard was asleep. Familiar with the layout, I slipped into the morgue. Pushing open the heavy door, the freezing air hit me. But it felt incredibly welcoming. I found an empty gurney and struggled to climb onto it. The moment I lay flat, a deep sense of peace washed over me. It was cold here, but compared to the ice-cold cruelty Ethan had shown me, at least it was clean. I could feel my life slipping away. My heart was slowing down. The stiffness had reached my chest. Breathing became difficult. I pulled out my phone. The screen was shattered, but it still worked. I found my mentor Donald's number. He was the only person left in this world who had shown me any kindness. With trembling fingers, it took me a long time to type out that single line: "Donald, my body is next. Please make me look beautiful." Sent. The phone slipped from my grasp. I closed my eyes and waited for the final release.The morgue door was pushed open. The sharp click of high heels echoed through the silent room. I had no strength to open my eyes, but I knew who it was. That sickeningly sweet perfume was Chloe's favorite. She stopped beside my gurney. "Well, well, look at our genius Dr. Serena." Her voice was dripping with triumph. "What's wrong? Are you really waiting to die here?" She reached out and slapped my cheek. It wasn't light. It was meant to humiliate. "I have to admit, seeing you like this makes me incredibly happy." She bent down, her lips brushing my ear. Her warm breath made my skin crawl. "Don't blame me for being cruel, Serena." "Blame yourself for being too perfect, too much of an eyesore." "It was like that in med school, and it was like that at the hospital. As long as you were around, Ethan would never look at me." She paused and let out a soft laugh. "Since you're dying anyway, I'll let you in on a little secret." "During Ethan's mother's surgery, it was actually my hand that slipped." "I was the one who handed you the wrong clamp that severed her artery. I did it on purpose. And when you turned around, I secretly released the hemostat." "But you just had to be the hero. You insisted on saving her after working a twenty-hour shift, and you ended up passing out from exhaustion." "So, I just went with the flow. I told everyone you fainted out of guilt, and I pinned the entire malpractice on you." "See how perfectly that worked?" "Ethan has hated you for three whole years." I lay there, completely still. I thought the truth would make me angry, but it didn't. My heart remained dead silent. Only a single tear escaped my eye, rolling down my temple. A tear for my ridiculously tragic life. Chloe finished speaking and stood up, looking entirely satisfied. "Alright, I won't disrupt your final moments." "In your next life, remember to stay far away from Ethan and me." The clicking of her heels faded away. My breathing grew fainter and fainter. At 3:07 PM. My heart stopped beating. Meanwhile, on the other side of the city. Ethan was sitting in a high-end restaurant, surrounded by his legal team. "Congratulations, Ethan," his lead lawyer raised a glass. "The case is as good as won. Serena's assets are completely frozen. She has no way out." Ethan swirled the red wine in his glass, but there wasn't a trace of victory on his face. Instead, an inexplicable anxiety gnawed at him. "Ethan, regarding the details of the surgery three years ago..." The lawyer babbled on, trying to take credit. "When Serena cut off the blood supply, the vascular stapler she used..." Ethan frowned sharply, cutting him off. "Did you say vascular stapler?" "Yes, according to the files, she was handed a size 7 stapler." Size 7? Ethan froze. His mother's surgery was highly specific. Because of a rare arterial variation, they had to use a custom size 5 stapler. Only the lead surgeon and the first assistant knew this. If a size 7 was used, it meant... the tool was wrong from the very beginning? And the person responsible for checking and passing the tools was the first assistant, Chloe. He suddenly remembered Chloe getting drunk a few nights ago, complaining: "Who knew that old lady's blood vessels were so damn thin..." He hadn't thought much of it then, but now, a cold shiver ran down his spine. He pulled out his phone and dialed Chloe's number. No answer. He tried again. Still no answer. A wave of panic washed over him. He opened a location-tracking app—for safety, he and Chloe had linked their locations. The GPS showed Chloe was at... the suburban funeral home? What was she doing there? Ethan immediately called his assistant. "Get me the security footage of the suburban funeral home's morgue from ten minutes ago. Now!" Five minutes later, the video was sent to his phone. On the screen, Chloe stood beside a gurney, leaning down to whisper into the ear of a "corpse." Because there was no audio, he couldn't hear what she said. But Chloe's twisted, triumphant grin, and the tear rolling down the cheek of the person on the table, pierced Ethan's eyes like knives. Was that Serena on the table? Why was she lying in the morgue? Just then, his phone buzzed. A text message from an unknown number popped up. The sender claimed to be a mortician from the funeral home. It was just one short line: "Mr. Ethan, Serena passed away at 3:07 PM."