Blurb：
In this heart-wrenching thriller, Lily’s silent treatment turns deadly when she becomes the victim of a brutal murder orchestrated by Anna Lee. Dr. John, once a brilliant cardiologist turned medical examiner, performs the unthinkable—transplanting his sister Lily’s heart into his ex-girlfriend Anna, unaware of the horrifying truth. As Lily’s soul watches from above, she witnesses her brother’s rage and regret too late. With characters like Detective Mike Lewis and Uncle Henry, this story explores dark family secrets, betrayal, and a brother’s desperate quest for redemption. Will John uncover Anna’s lies before it’s too late? Dive into a tale where love turns to hatred and revenge knows no bounds.
Content：
The second day of giving my brother the silent treatment, my face was smashed beyond recognition by a murderer and I was delivered to his operating room.
He calmly cut open my body and transplanted my heart into his girlfriend, Anna Lee.
After the surgery, he finally saw the distress messages I had sent.
But his first words were curses—”How old are you to still play these ‘crying wolf’ games for attention? If you want to die, do it somewhere far away!”
I became the corpse under his hands, shattered beyond recognition.
Later, he pieced together a mutilated body and pressed Anna down in front of my grave.
“Lily, I’ve avenged you. Please come back.”
The second day of the silent treatment with my brother, my face was shattered by the murderer and I was brought into his operating room.
He calmly cut open my body.
His assistant asked uncertainly, “John, it’s been a while since you’ve handled clinical work. Are you sure you want to perform such a delicate surgery yourself?”
My brother glanced tenderly at the woman on the other operating table.
“Yes, Anna only trusts me.”
Anna Lee, his ex-girlfriend.
She had a congenital heart condition.
“But if anyone finds out you performed surgery while serving as a medical examiner—”
My brother said firmly, “No one will know if you don’t talk. We finally found a matching heart—I won’t let this chance go.”
The assistant sighed, “Such a pity for this girl. She is so young. They said it was a hit-and-run. Her head was crushed, yet she still had vital signs. What a strong will to live…”
“She looks around Lily’s age.”
My brother suddenly thought of something and lifted my left arm.
There used to be a mole there, but the killer had gouged it out.
The killer knew me well—even had access to my brother’s private operating room.
It could only be Anna.
My brother relaxed but sneered, “Don’t mention her. She’s too selfish to ever agree to donate her heart!”
The assistant fell silent, embarrassed.
The surgery was successful.
I died; Anna was given a second chance.
My soul hovering in the air, I watched my brother pull out his phone after the surgery.
The moment he saw my SOS messages, he tried calling back.
But my phone had long been destroyed by Anna.
No one would answer.
Furious, he yelled into the disconnected line, “Aren’t you too old for these kinds of jokes?!”
“The address you gave was my operating room—what, were you the body on the table?!”
Yes, brother. I was that body.
But even if he knew, he’d probably just applaud.
After all, he hated me that much.
Anna’s father had been wrongfully imprisoned.
She begged my mom to testify, but my mom refused, so she broke up with my brother.
Because of that, he resented me, and he hates that I stood by our mother.
But he never knew: Anna’s father was the mastermind behind that kidnapping.
The next day, my brother got a call from the police department.
“A body’s been found. Come back to the station.”
My brother had transitioned to being a medical examiner at the precinct just a month earlier.
Many people sighed over a brilliant cardiologist switching to forensics.
But I knew it was only because Anna once said, “I admire medical examiners more.”
He abandoned years of dedication. He forgot it was our mother’s illness that made him choose medicine in the first place.
I followed him to the station.
His colleague, Detective Mike Lewis, briefed him.
“The killer dismembered the body and dumped the parts near Old Henry’s place. Bold move.”
Uncle Henry was a veteran medical examiner, an old friend of our dad.
Mike warned, “Be careful, and tell Lily to stay alert too.”
My brother scoffed, “The only reason she didn’t want me becoming an examiner was because she was scared of retaliation.”
He still thought my disapproval was about fear.
Mike said earnestly, “You’re siblings. No feud is worth holding onto forever.”
My brother snapped, “This isn’t a feud!”
He slammed the table, making everything shake.
The year after Anna’s dad was imprisoned, he died of illness in jail.
My brother blamed mom and me for everything.
“We verified it—he really was a trafficker. Your mom and Lily had nothing to do with it.”
My brother snorted, “The department’s full of dad’s old buddies—of course they’d cover for them.”
Mike sighed, knowing it was pointless.
He was my dad’s protégé—like an older brother to me.
Ever since everything happened, he’d tried to mend things between us.
My brother picked up the autopsy report.
“The police only recovered two body parts. Initial estimation: victim between 18–25. Cause and time of death still unclear.”
My brother asked, “Surveillance?”
“Old Henry’s neighborhood is full of outdated cameras—none were working when it happened.”
My brother skimmed the report and walked toward the remains.
Incomplete—already examined thoroughly.
“They’ve been sent for testing. With the body this fragmented, identifying the victim hinges on the test results first.”
I stared at those mutilated parts, nauseated and trembling.
Mike added, “The captain wants us to cross-reference all recently reported missing persons cases.”
“Call Lily. Tell her to warn her friends to be careful.”
My brother said coldly, “She’s fine—just yesterday she prank-called me with a fake SOS. Nothing’s wrong.”
Mike’s voice sharpened, “Lily wouldn’t joke about this. Did you even call her back?”
My brother paused. “I did,” he said, his voice dropping. “No one answered.”
He silently pulled out his phone.
I moved closer.
He was about to text my best friend, but then a message from Anna popped up:
“John, I saw on social media—Lily’s out traveling with friends. Send her some money so she doesn’t rough it too much.”
Instantly, his tension eased.
He told Mike, “See? She’s off on a trip, and she sent that text just to mess with me, to make me worry!”
“Still pulling the same disappearing acts she did as a kid!”
Mike frowned, “Anna hates your mom and Lily—why would she have Lily’s contact?”
My brother’s face darkened.
“Anna’s gracious and doesn’t hold grudges. Don’t assume the worst.”
“If we’re still friends, don’t say things like that again.”
He walked off.
Mike shook his head in disappointment, and tried calling me. No answer.
My spirit followed my brother home.
Anna was there.
The moment he saw her, concern flooded his face.
“Anna! You shouldn’t be up! You just had major surgery—where’s your nurse?!”
Anna turned, tears streaming artistically down her face.
“John, the storm’s so loud… I was scared.”
“Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”
He carried her gently to the bedroom.
The room was fully equipped for her recovery.
My heart ached.
I was kidnapped during a storm as a child. I’ve been terrified of rainy nights ever since.
My brother used to hold me, tell me stories, and stay by my side all night.
The night Anna killed me was stormy too.
Why would she be afraid?
I saw the smirk she hid.
Cold, twisted, thrilled by her revenge.
I shook with rage.
I remembered I kept begging him over and over that night, then she grew annoyed and tore out my tongue to silence me.
I scratched her face struggling.
She blinded me with an awl, then smashed my face repeatedly.
Until I was unrecognizable.
After I died, she moved me into my brother’s private operating room and had a accomplice to pose as family and sign the organ donation forms.
I died.
And my own brother soothingly tucked in my murderer.
His phone rang abruptly.
Anna flinched.
Annoyed, he stepped out to answer.
“Who is it?!”
“Hi, is this Lily’s guardian? I’m her classmate. I haven’t been able to reach her…”
“Wrong number. Don’t call again!”
He hung up angrily.
Then he texted me, each word dripping with reproach and condemnation.
“You are such an adult! Stop with the disappearance games! If you really end up dead somewhere, it’s your own fault!”
“I already apologized! However angry you are, it’s enough. I’m giving you three days to come back!”
Mom died because of him, yet he thought I shouldn’t be angry.
The caller tried again, insistently.
It was our class president.
We’d just graduated high school—I promised I’d attend the class reunion.
My brother yelled, “Why care about someone who cries wolf? Let her disappear! She can die wherever!”
His words shocked her as she shot back, “What’s wrong with you? You don’t even care about your own sister!”
After hanging up, my brother was so angry he was gasping for breath..
“Birds of a feather—her friends are just as bad!”
Each word stabbed me.
I remembered the first time I brought friends home—he ran to every store nearby, buying snacks and toys.
He said, “You’ve made good friends, Lily. I’m happy for you.”
I always called him the best brother.
Three years older, he practically raised me while our parents worked.
He walked me to school and took the blame when I messed up.
Everything was perfect.
Until Anna came.
On the third day, there was progress in my case.
More body parts were found.
It took my brother and Uncle Henry a full day to roughly reassemble them.
Uncle Henry shook his head.
“The killer’s methods are complex. It’s impossible to determine which injury was the actual cause of death.”
My brother agreed, “With the body this fragmented, we’ll have to wait for DNA.”
Uncle Henry forced a smile, “But at least we estimated time of death: between 5–8 PM two days ago. Small comfort.”
Fighting a wave of nausea, I forced myself to look at the dissection table.
The heat had accelerated decay; maggots now teemed across what was once my body, crawling in and out of the flesh.
The image of Anna dismembering me with a knife haunted me.
How could anyone be so cruel?
Even scrutinizing every detail, they found any useful clues.
Mike came in.
Pointing at the missing left chest, he asked, “What happened here?”
Uncle Henry explained, “Parts were found in trash bags at the market—almost taken by stray dogs. The rest are still missing.”
Mike studied the gap, puzzled, “The head, limbs are here—only this part is gone.”
He muttered, “This is… the heart.”
My brother froze, then rushed out and sent a voice message.
“Emma, contact the family of the organ donor—ask where the body is now—”
I watched my brother’s hurried departure, a faint, desperate hope stirring.
Was he about to discover the truth?
Then Anna’s call interrupted him.
Her cute ringtone felt like a verdict on my failure.
I saw him cancel the message and answer softly, “What’s wrong, Anna?”
She said nervously, “John, I saw online—is there really a dismemberment case?”
He comforted her, “Just rumors. Don’t worry.”
“I saw the video.”
Anna added, “After your mom passed, your sister’s been living alone—please remind her to be careful.”
Yes, my mom was gone.
She died before she could witness the dawn of a new life.
Mom had a congenital heart condition too.
My brother promised he’d operate.
But on surgery day, he never showed.
Mom worried about him, refusing to go into surgery without him.
When I found him, he was with Anna on our couch.
Enraged, I threw a vase at them.
Anna’s forehead bled.
He yelled, “Are you insane? Get out!”
Mom’s pained expression flashed in my mind.
I cried, “This is my and mom’s home! You get out! Mom missed her surgery because of you!”
He finally remembered—stunned and guilty.
He grabbed his hair, “I was too busy… I forgot.”
I coldly laughed, “Busy? Busy sleeping with her?”
He fell silent, a flicker of shame and guilt in his eyes.
But when Anna whimpered in pain, he brushed it off.
“It’s over. There’ll be other chances. Anna still hasn’t found a matching heart. Why bring this up now?”
My heart sank.
After Anna’s dad was imprisoned, he’d mocked mom and me endlessly.
For a moment, seeing his regret, I thought things could heal.
Until he killed our mom with his own hands.
Mom died.
The day Anna flaunted their relationship in mom’s hospital room.
She said the same things to me.
“I drugged John that day—he was like an animal in heat.”
“He kept saying he had to go to the hospital, but the drug messed him up—all he could think about was me.”
She chose our home to humiliate us—and sent someone to ensure John wouldn’t be found.
I stared at her, my eyes burning with tears, and my hand resting on mom’s cold body.
The culprit had confessed everything before her.
Hearing it, mom’s rage overwhelmed her—she died right there.
“John insisted on operating—I let him, I wanted you to have that hope, and then lose it all!”
“Afterward, I’ll play innocent—he’ll make excuses for me himself.”
Her face was vicious.
I shoved her down the stairs.
At mom’s funeral, I pushed John and Anna away.
Anna smiled triumphantly, a red rose pinned to her chest.
Five days after my death, my brother got another call.
He answered angrily, “Stop calling!”
“John… is this really you?”
Mike’s voice was cautious.
My brother softened, “Yeah, what is it?”
Mike hesitated, “You’re the victim’s family.”
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