Ashes of Regret: Three Days Too Late

When the fourth victim from the Chicago arsonist landed on my brother's autopsy slab, I watched from above, a ghost trapped in the room.

As the city's star medical examiner, he recited his findings with detached precision. "Female, twenties. Evidence of controlled, prolonged burning prior to death." He had no idea he was cataloging my murder.

Three days earlier, in that same warehouse, I'd begged into my phone. His fiancée, Harper, held it for me, her smile a blend of sugar and venom. "Call him again, Ivy. Maybe he'll answer for his poor little sister this time?"

A click. Then, his voice.

"Julian, please—"

"Not now, Ivy. I'm choosing our wedding rings."

The dial tone pierced the air. Harper struck the match.

Now, in the morgue's fluorescent glare, I see the blood drain from his face. The report trembles in his hand. Every measurement, every scar—they all whisper my name.

Oh, Julian. With every incision, you were reading my last words.

The killer is right beside you, already in her white dress.

Death didn't take me away.

My soul still lingered above this charred wasteland, the acrid smell of burnt wood still hanging heavy in the morning air. This abandoned warehouse in Chicago's South Side was now nothing but twisted steel beams and carbonized wooden planks. The string of arson cases had already thrown the entire city into panic.

At dawn, firefighters were packing up their equipment, water droplets falling from their helmets. I knew they'd soon discover the ashen remains in the corner—my body.

Just another problem for my brother Julian. His engagement party was just days away.

Sure enough, within half an hour, police cars and ambulances surrounded the scene.

I watched Julian emerge from a patrol car in his white protective suit. Even from this distance, I could sense his professional composure battling his deep-seated fear of fire.

"That's the fourth one, Jules." Alex Carter approached him, his tone heavy. My heart clenched—Alex still looked out for Julian, just like always. They'd been friends since childhood; now Alex was a detective and Julian was the chief medical examiner. "The Flame Killer struck again."

Julian nodded, took a deep breath, and walked toward the carbonized corpse to begin his professional examination.

"Female, early twenties," he reported. "Time of death approximately two days ago. Body severely carbonized, DNA extraction will be challenging. We're looking at about two days for results."

I watched Julian crouch beside my remains, carefully examining the burnt debris with his gloved hands. His movements were professional and detached, just like examining any other victim.

"Clear traces of accelerant," he noted. "Victim attempted to escape before death. Look at these scratch marks—she desperately tried to break through that welded door."

Julian continued his examination, his expression growing increasingly grim. "It gets worse," he said in a low voice. "Based on the burn patterns, the victim was subjected to prolonged burning while still alive. The perpetrator deliberately controlled the fire to make her suffer slowly."

The nearby technicians exchanged uneasy glances, several instinctively stepping back. Alex drew a deep breath. "This is more vicious than the previous cases."

Nearby residents began whispering among themselves. A middle-aged woman clutched her child tighter. "Will this lunatic keep killing?"

"None of us are safe," an elderly man shook his head. "This monster is wandering right among us."

"That poor girl," another voice trembled with fear, "burned alive."

Julian stood up, clenching his fists. "I'll catch this arsonist and make him pay for every single victim!"

If you knew you were examining your despised sister's body right now, would you still say that? I asked him silently, but of course received no answer.

As the scene wrapped up, Alex looked at Julian with concern. "That's the fourth charred body. Your workload's been pretty heavy lately." He paused. "By the way, isn't your sister's birthday coming up soon?"

Julian's expression immediately turned cold. "Don't mention her. Her birthday conflicts with our engagement party. I don't have time to deal with her."

My heart felt like it was being torn apart. Harper clearly knew my birthday date, yet deliberately chose this day for their engagement party. And Julian obviously didn't care about this "coincidence."

To him, my birthday had never mattered.

Ever since our parents died on my twelfth birthday, Julian had started hating me, calling me a jinx, a killer. When I turned eighteen, he threw me out of the house and had refused all contact since then.

But three years ago, when Harper Vance came to the police station seeking help while suffering from amnesia, I watched from afar as Julian voluntarily assisted her.

Afterward, she gradually "recovered her memory," claiming to be homeless. Julian was moved by her vulnerability and cared for her attentively.

For me, he wouldn't even answer a phone call.

"Ivy has been quietly looking after you all these years," Alex couldn't help saying, grabbing Julian's shoulder. "She's been taking care of you indirectly through me. You know that coffee on your office desk? And when you're pulling all-nighters, she even prepares extra food for you."

Julian coldly shrugged off Alex's hand. "Give it up, Alex. Stop bringing her up."

The sky began to rain, droplets hitting the ashen ruins with hissing sounds. Julian surveyed the scene. "It's raining harder. Scene evidence might get compromised."

"We need to transport the body back to the lab immediately for detailed examination," a technician reminded him.

"Seal the scene. Take all evidence back for analysis," Julian ordered.

On the ride back to the station, Alex drove Julian. He seemed to sense something unusual. "How come you didn't have coffee today? Your eyes are all red."

"I don't need her coffee," Julian said dismissively.

"Speaking of Ivy, she hasn't brought the coffee these past two days. It's not like her." Alex glanced at Julian. "You're not worried? Ivy suddenly stopping contact after you hung up on her... that's unusual."

Julian waved impatiently. "Stop worrying, Alex. It's just one of her tricks. She called three days ago trying to reconcile, and I hung up on her. Probably throwing a tantrum."

If you knew I would never bring you coffee again, never call you again, what would you think?

Just then, Julian's phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, his brow immediately relaxed, his voice turning tender. "Hi, gorgeous..."

I didn't even need to see the caller ID to know it was her—Harper. Only her calls could make Julian instantly put on that gentle facade.