But the trace of the red mole had long disappeared.
He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
"I knew it, how could that woman possibly die!"
After a pause, he took out his phone, opened WhatsApp, and sent a message to the WhatsApp account I used three years ago.
[Betty Gordon, are you disgusted by this pretending-to-be-dead trick!]
[Even if you were dead, I would never forgive you!]
My heart couldn't stop aching, but this path was chosen by myself.
If hating me could make him feel a little better, I would rather have him hate me for the rest of his life.
The police were busy going crazy trying to find the source of the corpse.
Stephen was focused on the autopsy room and painstakingly stitched my mutilated body parts together.
But my head was so badly damaged that it was completely unrecognizable as a human form.
He worked tirelessly for two whole days and nights to repair my head.
Although my face has long been destroyed, my shadow can still be faintly seen from the repaired skull.
Stephen was a little stunned, muttering to himself, "How is that possible..."
"That woman has always been wicked and has caused trouble for so much. How could she die so easily..."