This wasn’t right.

After all this time, if Elissa had been rescued, she should be rushed to a hospital immediately. But the police station?

“Mr. Flynn, Hadley—”

Quentin spoke again, his voice rough. “We need to go. The police—they’re waiting for the… identification.”

“Identification?”

The word slammed into Hadley’s chest.

At the police station, they followed two officers through a sterile corridor that led to the morgue.

The coroner opened a unit and slid the drawer out.

“Mr. Flynn, Miss Pearson,” one of the officers said. “Please take a look. Is this Miss Elissa Holland?”

Ernest stood frozen, his back half-turned, his face twisted away. He couldn’t look. What if it was her? Because if it was her—if it really was Elissa—then the last thread of hope would be gone.

“Miss Pearson?” With Ernest unable to look, the officer turned to Hadley. “Can you identify the body?”

Hadley’s breath came in shallow bursts. A crushing weight pressed against her chest. She didn’t want to look either. But if it really was Elissa, they had to know. They had to bring her home.

“Alright,” Hadley nodded faintly. She drew in a breath, summoned what strength she had left, and looked up.

The instant her eyes met the figure on the table, she staggered back and covered her face with trembling hands. The body was beyond recognition.

“She had been submerged for some time,” the coroner explained, his tone measured but grim. “The reefs tore through her skin. The body was retrieved in pieces. We reconstructed it for visual confirmation.” Hadley turned her face away.

A sharp, breathless sob escaped her. Her hands clutched at her chest, trying to hold something in that was already breaking apart.

: ν

“Miss Pearson,” the coroner said gently. “Could you try again? Perhaps there’s a feature—a mark or scar—that might help identify her?”

Hadley gave a faint nod and forced herself to glance once more. But after only a second, she shook her head helplessly. “I really can’t tell.” Her fingers curled into fists. “But the clothes… she wore this the day she disappeared.” Her voice cracked.

“In that case,” the coroner said, retrieving a sealed evidence bag. “Can you confirm if this belonged to her? The bracelet!”

Hadley’s eyes widened. She knew it immediately—it was Elissa’s.

Her hands trembled as she passed the bag to Ernest. “Is this hers?”

Ernest’s bloodshot eyes glistened as he took the evidence bag, his fingers tracing the bracelet through the plastic. There was no doubt—it was Elissa’s. He had it custom-made, her name engraved on the inside. No other piece like it existed.

Gripping the bag tightly, he shut his eyes. Silent tears slipped down his face. Hadley let out a broken sob and stumbled toward the body. “Elissa! Elissa…” They had waited, prayed, held on for days. But this—this was how it ended.

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