Chapter 3

Ava Bell POV:

The sterile white conference room hummed with the low murmur of police officers. Maps of the crime scene were projected onto the wall, red circles marking key areas. Coffee cups littered the table, half-empty, forgotten.

Detective Miller, a seasoned veteran with tired eyes, cleared his throat. "Alright, listen up. Coroner's report just came in."

A palpable tension filled the room. The officers exchanged uneasy glances. They knew what was coming. The details of my final moments.

"Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the head, followed by strangulation. Extensive bruising, consistent with a prolonged struggle. Multiple defensive wounds on her forearms and hands." Miller's voice was flat, clinical, but a hint of disgust crept in. "She fought hard."

My ghostly form hovered in the corner, unable to feel the horror, but remembering it all. The terror. The pain. The desperate, futile struggle for air.

"No clear identification yet," Miller continued. "The body was disfigured. Dental records are being checked, but it's slow going. And we're confident the condo wasn't the primary crime scene. She was moved."

Carter, seated at the head of the table, ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. He was agitated, a barely contained storm.

"I want every lead followed," he said, his voice sharp. "Expand the search radius. Check every abandoned warehouse, every remote property in a fifty-mile radius. I want surveillance footage from every road leading to that condo. Someone saw something."

He paused, his eyes narrowing. "And I want a more thorough autopsy. Every fiber, every trace. And this identification, Miller, it needs to be expedited. This firm represents the developer. We can't have this hanging over our heads."

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "I'm heading back to the crime scene. Keep me updated." He strode out of the room, his long legs carrying him away from the gruesome details, back to the cold, hard logic of the case.

He's so focused on his client, on the case. He still doesn't see me.

I remembered another gift I had given him, a small, silver compass, beautifully engraved with his initials and a tiny, almost invisible, star. It was meant to be a symbol of guidance, of always finding his way back to me.

"So you'll always find your way home," I had whispered, pressing it into his hand. He' d smiled, a rare, genuine smile, and tucked it into his pocket. A fleeting moment of connection.

Then, Cecelia had walked in. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, immediately fixed on the compass. "What's that, darling?" she' d purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. She snatched it from his hand. "Oh, a little trinket from Ava? How... quaint."

Her fingers, adorned with expensive rings, had toyed with the delicate silver. Then, with a sudden, vicious twist, she had snapped it in half. The sound had echoed in the silent room, a tiny, metallic death knell.

"Cecelia!" I' d cried out, my voice breaking. I lunged for her, my hands shaking. "Why would you do that?"

Carter had grabbed me, pulling me back with a force that surprised me. "Ava, stop it! What's wrong with you?" he' d demanded, his eyes blazing with anger.

"She broke it, Carter! She broke my gift to you!"

"It's just a cheap piece of junk, Ava! Don't make a scene! Cecelia didn't mean to." He'd turned to her, his voice softening. "Are you alright, sweetheart? She didn't hurt you, did she?"

Cecelia had clung to him, her face buried in his chest, a theatrical sob wracking her body. "She's always so jealous, Carter. Always trying to get between us."

"That's enough, Ava!" Carter' s voice was cold, lethal. "Get out of here. I don't want to see you right now."

He' d locked me in my room, the one he said was mine in our apartment. The compass, broken, lay on the floor, a testament to her cruelty and his blind devotion. I had curled up on the bed, my body aching, my heart shattered. The darkness of the room had mirrored the darkness in my soul. I was trapped, a prisoner in my own life.