After I Died, My Genius Son and My Forensic Husband went Crazy

As I lay submerged in a cesspool, my body corroding away from the sulfuric acid that had been thrown over me, my genius son, Tobey Hawke, was busy blowing out candles and making a wish.
I wish Ms. Wilde were my mom. Rachel is as dumb as a pig and doesn't deserve to be my mother.
My husband, Henry Hawke, watched silently from the sidelines, his gaze soft as he wiped the cream off Sophie Wilde's mouth.
They hung up my desperate call for help without a second thought.
"Ms. Wilde went through a lot to come spend time with me, so don't ruin it," Tobey said, not bothering to disguise his irritation.
A week later, my body was discovered.
Henry, the forensic examiner, personally performed the autopsy, with Tobey contributing his razor-sharp deductions.
Together, these two prodigies painstakingly pieced together every gruesome detail of the inhuman torture I had endured—yet they never recognized me as the victim.
——
My corpse was found in a cesspool, severely decomposed, covered in filth, and crawling with maggots.
When Henry arrived on the scene with Tobey in tow, the police officers hardly blinked; they were used to the genius young boy who had inherited his father's extraordinary intelligence.
Tobey immediately pointed out that this wasn't the primary crime scene.
Henry maintained his cool demeanor as he directed the team to retrieve the body, but upon seeing the corpse, he froze for a moment.
Perhaps it was the height and build of the victim that sparked a flicker of familiarity, or maybe it was the sudden realization that he hadn't heard from me in days.
For a brief moment, panic flashed in his eyes, and he nervously fished out his phone while Tobey urged him on.
My phone had long since been discarded; how could he possibly get through?
I watched them with a heavy heart, torn between hoping he would discover my identity and praying it wouldn't happen in front of our child.
At that precise moment, the call was surprisingly connected.
Tobey, not missing a beat, sweetly chimed in first.
"Ms. Wilde, Dad and I are going to be busy tonight. So be careful all by yourself, okay? We'll come home after we finish up. Love you!"
Henry smiled slightly, a mix of warmth and seriousness, as he advised Sophie, "Don't go out alone tonight. It's not safe."
"Got it! You and Tobey take care too. Tobey, come give me a kiss!"
After their affectionate exchange, once the call ended, I saw Henry send a text to Sophie: [I can't lose you again.]
It struck me then that his concern stemmed from hearing about another young woman falling victim to violence.
Detective Paul Ruffalo asked, "Tobey, aren't you going to call your mom? You probably won't be heading home tonight."
Tobey's expression hardened at the mention of me. "What's there to say to her? She's always clinging onto us like a leech. It's so annoying!"
He resented anyone mentioning that I was his mother simply because I didn't live up to his standards of excellence—a far cry from the brilliant mom he dreamed of.
Henry snorted dismissively as if to agree. "She's so selfish—who's worried about her safety?"
I gazed helplessly at the two irritated faces before me; they had always disliked seeing me around. But this time, I sensed it might be our last encounter.
After their tireless work, the autopsy was completed on the night of the discovery.
Henry meticulously drafted the report as Tobey watched intently, fiddling with a skeletal model in his hands.
"Female victim, aged 25-30, multiple fractures throughout her body, and the skull was severed. Body shows extensive decay, with an old scar on the abdomen, so identity can't be confirmed without DNA matching."
That's when Tobey interjected, "Dad, is there any chance the victim could have had a child?"
If they could confirm that detail, narrowing down the possibilities would be much easier.
That scar was indeed from my C-section when I gave birth to Tobey, but Henry didn't recognize it.
After finishing the report, Henry's phone rang. It was his mother, Zoe Hawke.
"Henry! When are you guys coming home? Tobey's grown so much; maybe it's time for a second baby..."
Tobey made a face, clearly exasperated. "Grandma, Rachel is just lazy and greedy! With an IQ that low, she'd be high-risk for pregnancy. Thank goodness I take after Dad; what if she has another clueless kid like herself this time?"
Henry pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly feeling the weight of the conversation. "Mom, I don't have any feelings for Rachel. Once Tobey is a bit older, we're getting a divorce, so stop dreaming about things that aren't going to happen."
Zoe said, her voice barely above a whisper, "You can't blame Rachel entirely for what happened; I thought you two... well, I thought you were fine these years... Tobey, how can you speak to your Mom like that?"
"Mom?" Tobey hadn't used that term for me in ages; he always called me by my first name now. Henry was already on edge from a sleepless night, and his impatience was bubbling over.
"Should I blame her, or should I blame Sophie? Sophie finally comes back to the country, and Rachel's whispering poison in your ear about her? Just drop it; I can't stand hearing her name again."
After he hung up, Tobey blinked at Henry with wide eyes. "Dad, what's this about you and Rachel getting a divorce? You don't have to wait for me to grow up!"
Henry rose and stretched. "Let's head home; I'll pick up some breakfast for Sophie."
I watched as they expertly picked out all of Sophie's favorite foods, a lump of damp cotton settling in my chest.
It is clear how caring they could be, so why was it that I never got what I liked at home?
And I hadn't whispered anything about Sophie to anyone, nor had I thrown Sophie under the bus. The truth was, I had been dead for a long time—ever since Sophie invited me that day.

After Henry and Tobey stepped through the door, they headed straight home.
As soon as Sophie saw them, she rushed over and enveloped Henry in a big hug.
"Busy day, huh? You should rest!"
Dressed in comfy loungewear, she effortlessly took the bag from Henry's hands, exuding the warmth of a true homemaker.
Meanwhile, Tobey busily arranged breakfast at the dining table, showing a level of thoughtfulness that surprised me.
My once pampered genius son, who'd never lifted a finger for me—even when I was sick—was now being so considerate. But I knew the truth: to him, I simply wasn't worthy.
"Where's Rachel? Do you think she'll misunderstand if she sees us like this? Maybe I should just go," Sophie said, breaking free from Tobey's embrace as if she had just awakened from a dream.
She casually mentioned my name, but her eyes were keenly assessing the expressions on Henry and Tobey's faces.
Does she really not know where I am? She was the one who arranged for me to go out and handed me over to that man!
The entire night had been a nightmare—my limbs tortured, my body doused in sulfuric acid until I was unrecognizable.
When Tobey heard Sophie's words, he dashed over to her side. "Don't worry! I'll protect you! If she says anything, I'll kick her out!"
Henry gently took her hand and reassured her, "This is your home; you're safe here."
Only then did Sophie's feigned fear melt away, replaced by a satisfied smile reminiscent of the one she wore years ago when I was in labor.
When I gave birth, I had begged Henry to be there with me, but he didn't show up until it was almost too late. When I finally woke up from the anesthesia, Sophie was wearing that same smug, taunting expression.
"Yesterday, our puppy got sick, so I called Henry to help. You're not mad, are you? You know that puppy is our child, right? Oh, did I say too much?"
Of course, I was furious. I exploded, my eyes burning with rage as I screamed for her to get lost. I thought Henry would stand by me. After all, I had just given him a child, but he only left me with a cold, dismissive remark.
"This is what you owe us. You're on your own now."
After they left, Tobey ended up in the ICU because Sophie had held the dog without disinfecting her hands before holding him.
Ironically, the child I had fought to bring into this world now harbored resentment towards me. I knew Sophie was his childhood crush, so I buried my own feelings deep down.
When their relationship was exposed, I gave Sophie a sum of money on Zoe's behalf, encouraging her to leave the country, and she accepted without hesitation.
But Henry blamed me for everything. In a drunken haze, he took advantage of me.
"Your plan worked, but I'll make you pay for it for the rest of your life."
Henry never touched me when he was sober; when he did, it was merely to fulfill his duty of procreation.
I thought that after having the baby, we might find some breathing room and a chance to clear up the misunderstandings of the past. But he never gave me that opportunity, and he didn't bother hiding his disdain for me in front of our child.
"Idiot, social failure"—those were just a few of the names he had for me.
But when he spoke of Sophie, it was all glowing praise. "independent woman, elegant, capable, kind-hearted."
Over time, Tobey grew distant from me. He even refused to acknowledge me as his mother at school, insisting I was just the housekeeper.
When Sophie came back, everyone assumed the three of them were a perfect little family.
Meanwhile, I was at home battling a fever and cramps while they were out enjoying a flashy parent-child event at school.
A forensic dad, a high-achieving mom, and a child prodigy—it was a combination that everyone envied.
When they returned, and Henry saw my pale face and realized I hadn't cooked dinner, his expression darkened. He looked at me with disdain. "You seriously think you're living the high life now?"
To punish me, even though they could easily hire a housekeeper, he insisted I do everything myself.
I tried to ask Tobey to grab me a glass of water, but he pretended to "accidentally" spill it all over me.
"Are you done with the act? Can you stop whining? It's no wonder Dad can't stand you."
As I got up to pour myself a drink, Henry noticed that I had accidentally stained the sofa cover with my period. He snapped at me to clean it immediately. It was as if I was some kind of filth.
Now, I was dead—no longer dirtying the sight of him and his son.

Tobey tugged at the hem of Sophie's dress, his eyes shining with affection. "Ms. Wilde, let's pretend Rachel's gone. Can you be my new mom?"
I forced a smile, feeling the weight of irony.
We had just met, but I was nothing more than a lifeless shell. I had died trying to hold this family together one last time.
I had even planned to divorce Henry to make room for Sophie. But then she called, wanting to set things straight with Henry, insisting that I had nothing to do with their past.
Hopeful, I went to meet her, thinking that even if divorce was on the table, we could clear up some misunderstandings.
Instead, I was met with unimaginable torture—my limbs mutilated, my face slashed. The pain was excruciating, especially when tears streamed down my wounds. I begged him to stop, but he just went wild, unleashing his rage.
Once he finally passed out, I desperately grabbed my phone to call for help. It felt like an eternity before someone answered, but before I could say anything, Tobey's impatient voice came through.
"Ms. Wilde went through a lot to come spend time with me, so don't ruin it!"
And then, I was discovered.
They poured sulfuric acid down my throat, sealing my fate.
A soul had no tears, but remembering those moments felt like a gaping hole in my chest, with the cold wind rushing in, reminding me of the pain of my life.
Meanwhile, Henry and Sophie were cozying up in the living room. I floated behind Tobey into his room, where he was rummaging through his books.
Suddenly, he frowned and pulled out a gift box from his desk. It was my birthday present for him. Even though Henry and I had been separated for a week, I had still prepared something special for Tobey.
Without even glancing at it, he tossed it aside, the box arcing through the air and landing in the trash.
The next day, while taking out the garbage, an old man collecting recyclables asked him, "You're just going to throw away such a nice box without even opening it?"
Tobey coldly replied, "It's just trash. You can have it if you want."
In his heart, it wasn't the gift that was trash; it was me—his mother.
Later that afternoon, Henry took Tobey back to their hometown to see Zoe.
When Zoe learned I wasn't there, she sighed deeply. "Couples shouldn't hold grudges. Just pick a time to bring Rachel back. Think of the kid. Tobey's too young to be without a mom.
As soon as the words left her mouth, Tobey exploded. "Don't do it for me! I don't want her as my mom. It's embarrassing! I support Dad's decision to divorce. Besides, who says I don't have a mom? Ms. Wilde is…"
Zoe abruptly shot up from the couch, clutching her chest. "Which Ms. Wilde are you talking about?"
Henry noticed Zoe's sudden agitation and quickly tried to calm her down, casting a warning look at Tobey.
Zoe had never liked Sophie; she thought Sophie was second-rate. I had tried to protect their bond back then by passing that money to Sophie.
"She can only go to a few places. What's the big deal?" Henry said, exhaling smoke in frustration as he scrolled through his phone, the screen still lingering on a page from two weeks ago.
Normally, I couldn't stand a cold treatment lasting more than a few hours, but this time, I remained silent.
When Henry didn't text me back, Zoe attempted to bring up the past again.
"Henry, actually, it was me who..."
"Mom, what kind of spell did Rachel put on you? Why are you defending her?" Tobey interrupted, and just then, Henry's phone rang.
Zoe's eyes lit up with excitement. "Is that Rachel? Pick it up! You should apologize to her!"
But it was a call from the precinct. "Henry, we found the victim's head."
Finally, they were going to uncover the truth about me.
I stared numbly at my own severed head, a decaying lump of flesh.
The man had shaved off my hair, and my features were burned away by acid, leaving only a few dark holes.
Everyone was speechless, wondering what deep-seated grudge this could be.
Under the spotlight, Henry meticulously cleaned the skull, professional to the core, with an assistant by his side. I watched my mutilated self with numb detachment, a sight that made even me nauseous.
Suddenly, the assistant slowed his movements as if making a new discovery.
Carefully, he extracted a ring from my mouth. "Look at this!"
Henry froze, his pupils contracting sharply, the veins on his hand holding the scalpel standing out.
The office fell into a hush, only broken by his heavy breathing.
When he saw the ring that was all too familiar, he could no longer remain indifferent. It was our wedding ring, one that I never removed.
At that moment, Paul entered, carrying documents with a solemn expression. "Among the missing persons is Rachel."

Download the SnackShort app, Search 【 574422 】reads the whole book.