The Wife On His Autopsy Table Novel by Silas Darke _ Novel




The Wife On His Autopsy Table Chapter 01

This was the third case this month.
The body they pulled out of the river was swollen, stinking to high heaven. The killer was getting bolder, his work more depraved.
After he tortured me to death and discarded my remains, my soul remained, as if some part of me refused to move on.
Dorian pulled on his gloves, crouched, and began checking it inch by inch.
Somehow, I stayed tethered to him, watching him study the corpse.
The acid had burned right through my skin, wiping out any trace of who I’d been. I could barely even recognize myself.
Dorian had handled countless cases, but this was the first time he staggered back and vomited.
His coworkers leaned in for a peek, then jumped back in horror. Their faces went white, each one fighting to keep from throwing up.
The autopsy hadn’t even started, but a thick, heavy silence hung in the air.
The cops confirmed the river wasn’t where I died—just where he dumped my body.
Dorian finished his preliminary notes. He didn't know the woman on the table was the wife he loathed.
While I was begging for my life, he was at the hospital with Sabine for her prenatal checkup.
I'd called him with my final breath. The moment the call connected, I dared to hope.
"Dory, help me..." I whispered into the phone, desperate.
Then Sabine's sweet voice drifted through, sounding like she was asking something offhand. "Dory, you think it's a boy or a girl?"
She was the woman Dorian loved but could never have, and my father Vincent Graves's cherished stepdaughter.
I heard Dorian answer gently, "Doesn't matter. I'm happy either way."
He was so wrapped up in his little happy moment that he didn’t hear a single word of my weak begging for help.
I lay on the floor, covered in my own blood, curled up as pain ripped through me. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
"What now? I said I'd come home later." His irritated voice filled my ear.
We'd fought earlier, and every argument ended with me caving first, no matter who was at fault. So Dorian assumed this was no different, that I was calling to apologize.
When I didn't respond, he mocked me and hung up.
Bleeding out in utter hopelessness, I clutched my belly, trying to protect my baby.
Death came for me, and my soul slipped free.
Later, I watched Dorian wrap an arm around her swollen belly, holding her close. His eyes were soft with a tenderness he’d never once given me.
The stench grew heavier in the autopsy room, but Dorian worked with steady hands, checking every detail.
Then a coworker blurted something out. "Hey, Dorian. Why didn't Elowen bring you lunch today?"
Dorian's brow tightened the moment he heard my name.
"Why’re you bringing her into this?" he said coldly.
"You two fought again?" the coworker said, already reading it on his face.
Fights had become our normal ever since we got married. Dorian only married me to spite Sabine. I'd known that long before the ceremony.
Even the house we lived in wasn't meant for me; it was supposed to be theirs. The passcode hadn't changed since I moved in. I knew it was her birthday.
He never let me into the study, but I knew their photo sat on his desk.
And yet I still married him. Why?
Maybe dying had dulled my memory; so much of my life already felt like it was slipping away.

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