Part 1Till Death Do Us Marry

The day they dismembered me, Evelyn Lewis’s voice was filled with mockery:

“I’ve assigned him the country’s top bodyguard team; how could anything happen to him?”

Her female assistant reported anxiously:

“Ms. Lewis, Mr. Harris used your written authorization, claiming you had new instructions, and dismissed all the bodyguards. And you forgot, Mr. Miller was a retired narcotics officer; I’m worried his old enemies might have come for him?”

Evelyn let out a cold laugh, her eyes full of disdain.

“Enemies? How many of his so-called enemies would dare to make a move on my territory?”

“I merely entered a business marriage with the Harris family, and he’s using such a pathetic tactic to get attention? Does he even look like the master of the Lewis household?”

“Tell him, if he’s going to throw a tantrum, it can wait until after Adrian and my engagement party is over!”

Ten days later, she finally appeared at our wedding villa.

Seeing me asleep on the bed, she sneered, a disdainful curl of her lips:

“I knew it; you’d only use this method to force me back.”

But the next second, her female assistant, face filled with horror, reached out to support me:

To her shock, my head tumbled from beneath the covers.

* * *

“Ms. Lewis, we found a severed arm at an abandoned cartel hideout. That lone wolf tattoo… we’ve confirmed it’s Mr. Miller’s.” The female assistant’s voice trembled uncontrollably.

Evelyn Lewis merely let out a cold laugh, throwing the crystal pen holder onto her expensive office desk: “Isn’t he supposed to be in the heavily secured villa? How could he have gone out? How much hush money did he give you to put on this pathetic act with him?”

The assistant broke into a cold sweat, terrified: “Absolutely true! Ms. Lewis, even if I had boundless courage, I wouldn’t dare to deceive you about something like this!”

“Enough!” Evelyn flung a pen, her voice thick with irritation and disdain: “A lunatic who only uses extreme tactics to grab attention, playing disappearing acts just because I’m getting engaged to Adrian, and now escalating to being dismembered? Do you really think I’d believe such a lie?”

“He’s just relying on having been an undercover agent for a few years and earning some merit, thinking he’s some great hero who needs me to indulge his every whim? I’d be thanking my lucky stars if he wasn’t secretly tripping Adrian up or using his dirty tricks to harm people!”

The assistant’s face turned ashen, not daring to utter another word.

“What’s more…” Evelyn rose, her gaze imperious: “Although I kept him confined to the villa, the guards I left were all elite special forces. Even if he wanted to court death, it would be difficult.” With that, she strode toward Adrian Harris, who was waiting by the floor-to-ceiling window, never looking back.

My soul floated in mid-air, involuntarily twisting into a desolate smile. She seemed to have forgotten, she had given Adrian full authority to mobilize all resources under her name. She had once declared in front of everyone: “Everyone listen closely, Adrian’s commands are my commands! They must be followed and executed one hundred percent.” The excuse, ostensibly, was her fear that I, this “madman,” might harm her pure and flawless Prince Charming.

It was precisely because of such overwhelming favoritism that day at the villa, Adrian dared, in front of me, to mock my father, who died in the line of duty, calling him an idiot. And she truly adored Adrian. Just because I, in my anger, punched Adrian, she had me completely confined.

She was always so self-righteous. While cursing me to “drop dead outside,” she simultaneously set up an inescapable net, claiming it was to prevent me from causing trouble. But Adrian’s authority superseded everything. He used Evelyn’s authorization to easily dismiss all security. And he deliberately leaked my location to the cartel’s remnants. Those desperate individuals, hell-bent on avenging their cartel boss.

That day, they burst in. With my last breath, I broke three ribs and incapacitated one man’s arm. But in the end, I was overwhelmed and held down. When I was found, all that remained were dismembered pieces, packed into several boxes. It was my mother, a retired female detective, who, using all her personal connections, painstakingly gathered “me” piece by piece. She looked at the fragments that even the medical examiners shook their heads at, her wrinkled hands trembling violently. She could only force out three hoarse words: “Put my son… back together.”

Her former comrades asked her when the funeral would be. My mother caressed my badge: “My little hero hasn’t even had his thirtieth birthday yet.”

Late at night, my mother brought in her old medical examiner, a friend of many years. By dawn, my wounds were all stitched, I was dressed in my favorite suit, clean and composed, lying on my bed with my eyes closed, as if asleep. “My dear sister, we’ve done our best. At least… he can leave with dignity.”

My mother carefully straightened my collar, smiling softly, but her tears fell onto my face: “My little Owen, could you… wait until after your thirtieth birthday to leave, please?” She whispered. “You said when the mission was over, you’d wear a suit one more time for Mom. Mom bought it for you, do you like it?”

I lay there, eyes closed, motionless. My mother gently picked me up, just like when I was a child, letting my head rest on her shoulder. She hummed a tuneless lullaby, over and over again.