143 Unheeded Emergency Calls

The Metro Emergency Dispatch Center was hosting its live broadcast for the annual Dispatcher of the Year award.

The host turned to Luke, asking for the secret behind his flawless eight-year record of zero dispatch errors.

Facing the cameras, Luke spoke with calm, absolute composure.

Maintaining absolute rationality. I never let personal emotions compromise emergency resources.

The host seized the opportunity to follow up. "Have you ever encountered any absurd calls where people tried to maliciously block the emergency channel?"

Lukes eyes instantly turned cold.

"Three nights ago, during that torrential storm, my ex-girlfriend wanted to stop my upcoming engagement."

"She pretended her car was trapped under a flooded overpass and called the dispatch line 143 times, trying to block our emergency channel."

"I blacklisted her number on the spot."

The comment section erupted with praise for his unwavering dedication to duty.

But just as the host was about to transition, the guest caller, forensic pathologist Audrey, broke onto the broadcast with bloodshot eyes.

"Luke, Grace is dead!"

"Three nights ago, during that storm, she drowned inside her car after struggling for six hours."

"And when we found her, her hand was still clutching her phone, showing those 143 blocked calls to you!"

The feed cut to static immediately, and the internet erupted.

"Audrey, has your professional ethics as a medical examiner gone out the window just to help Grace force me into a marriage?"

Though the live stream had been cut, the reporters and media in the studio remained.

Dozens of cameras were aimed squarely at Luke.

He did not look panicked at all. He just looked coldly at the screen.

"Tell Grace that this desperate cry for attention is pathetic."

"Tomorrow is my engagement party with Melanie. Even if she paid you to pull off this fake-death stunt, I won't spare her a second glance."

Audrey, on the other end of the screen, was trembling violently.

She held up an evidence bag containing a bloated, water-damaged phone.

"Luke, do you honestly think this is a joke? Her body is lying right here on the autopsy table at the county morgue."

"You are listed as her emergency contact. Do you even have the guts to come down here and identify her?"

I hovered near the ceiling of the studio, watching this play out in silence.

Luke and I grew up together. He was the only bright spot in my otherwise miserable life.

We only drifted apart when he went abroad to study medicine, while I stayed behind to scrape by.

But eight years ago, when my parents passed away from illness, leaving me utterly alone and helpless, he appeared like a savior.

He took charge of everything, making sure the funeral went smoothly.

Ever since that day, Luke had been my designated emergency contact.

"Nice props," Luke sneered. "Grace is so desperate to win me back that she'd actually write a script cursing herself to death."

"Doctor, making false reports to the police is a crime. For the sake of our past, I won't file a complaint."

"But tell her to stop making an absolute fool of herself."

Across the screen, Audrey's tears fell freely.

"Luke, you are a monster!"

"When Grace died, her fingernails were torn to pieces. There was blood smeared all over the inside of the car windows."

"While you were busy dispatching an ambulance to rescue Melanie's spoiled little dog, did you once think about Grace suffocating in the rising tide?"

Luke's brow finally furrows.

The harsh words seemed to pierce his armor, making him uncomfortable.

"Enough! A coward like Grace would never have the guts to die."

"If she is actually dead, I'll buy her a headstone myself and throw her a mock funeral tomorrow!"

With that, he tore the power cord of the monitor from the wall.

The screen went black. The reporters in the studio looked at one another, none of them daring to speak.

His assistant, Carter, ran over, wiping cold sweat from his forehead.

"Luke, the social media backlash is getting out of hand. Everyone is asking if Grace actually died."

Luke let out a cold laugh.

"Put out a statement. Say it is just a cheap stunt by an obsessive ex."

"Grace cares too much about her pride. Once the internet starts ripping her apart, she will crawl back and apologize."

Hearing his absolute certainty, I felt as though I never truly knew him.

Years ago, when I nicked my finger while cutting vegetables, he would panic and run to the pharmacy in the middle of the night for bandages.

He would hold my hand, his eyes red with worry as he blew gently on the cut.

"Grace, from now on, I do the cooking. I can't bear to see you get even a scratch."

That was the Luke from six years ago.

The Luke of today believed my death was nothing but a clumsy act to ruin his engagement.

Carter hesitated.

"But Luke... the police department actually called earlier. They need you to sign the release forms..."

Luke stopped in his tracks.

"I said, it's just one of Grace's games."

"Ignore it. Let her play dead in the morgue for as long as she wants."

He strode out of the TV station, his posture tall, proud, and entirely unbothered.

I floated behind him, drifting out into the open air.

The sun outside was blindingly bright. I instinctively raised a hand to shield my eyes.

But I felt no warmth. I guess the dead don't have to worry about sunburns.

I watched him slide into the back of his sleek, black Mercedes-Maybach, feeling a sudden wave of detachment.

The passenger seat of this car used to be mine.

But then Melanie complained that my scent lingered on the upholstery, so he had the entire interior refitted.

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose, looking tired.

His phone rang. It was Melanie. Instantly, his harsh expression melted into a gentle, soothing tone.

"Melanie, what's wrong?"

A whimpering, tearful voice came through the speaker.

"Luke... Coco's paw is hurting again. He won't stop crying, and I'm so scared."

Coco was Melanie's tiny toy poodle.

Three nights ago, during that catastrophic rainstorm, this dog had sprained its paw.

"Don't cry. I'm on my way."

Luke hung up and urged the driver to speed up.

"Luke, thank goodness you're here."

Melanie threw herself into his arms, her eyes red and puffy.

He rubbed her back gently, taking the dog from her arms.

He knelt, pulling antiseptic and gauze from the medical kit, wrapping the dog's paw with tender, practiced ease.

Floating above them, I watched him tie the final knot.

I was the one who taught him how to tie that specific bow.

One freezing winter, when he had a high fever, I ran out into a blizzard to get his medicine and ended up taking a nasty fall.

While waiting in the emergency room, I watched the nurses bandage a wound and learned the technique, teaching it to him when I got back.

I told him, "Luke, if I ever get hurt, you have to bandage me up just like this."

He held me close back then, swearing he would never let me get hurt.

Now, he used that very knot to tend to Melanie's dog.

"Luke, I saw the live broadcast."

Melanie looked at him, her voice tentative.

"Is Grace... really dead?"

Luke's hands did not hesitate for a single second.

"A woman like her? She loves herself too much to die."

"She would do anything for money. This is just a pathetic attempt to extort me before the wedding."

Melanie bit her lip.

"But the medical examiner sounded so sure. What if..."

"There is no what if."

Luke cut her off.

"Melanie, you are too soft-hearted. That's why she is able to manipulate you."

"Back then, she took a million dollars from your mother and walked away from me without a single regret. You can't trust a single word that comes out of her mouth."

Hearing this, I did not even have the energy to smile bitterly anymore.

Years ago, when Luke was still a medical intern, he made a mistake that threatened to cost him a massive settlement.

If he could not pay, his license would be revoked, and he would face prison time.

Melanie, who was actively pursuing him, had her mother approach me. They offered me a million dollars.

The condition was that I had to leave Luke forever.

I did not take their money.

Instead, I signed up for a high-risk, unregistered clinical trial to earn the money, paying off his settlement anonymously.

But when Luke was cleared, Melanie told him that I had taken the money and run.

And he believed her.

From that moment on, in his eyes, I became a mercenary wretch who sold her soul for a paycheck.

Carter's voice broke through the silence over a phone call.

"Luke, the police are calling again."

"Audrey says if you don't come down to sign the papers, they will have to file Grace's body as unclaimed."

Luke sighed, his patience wearing thin.

"Then let them."

"Tell Audrey that the act has gone on long enough. If she keeps pushing this, I will personally see to it that her department's funding gets pulled."

Carter stammered over the line.

"But... Audrey sent over a photo."

"Luke... the girl in the photo... she looks exactly like Grace."

Luke's breath caught for a fraction of a second, but his voice remains cold and steady.

"AI filters can recreate anything these days. What does a photo prove?"

"If you have nothing better to do, go down to the morgue and see her little show for yourself."

He cut the call.

Melanie leaned in, wrapping her arms around his.

"Luke, the tailor sent over your suit for tomorrow. Why don't you try it on?"

Luke nodded, the tension leaving his shoulders.

"Sure. Whatever you want."

The bespoke suit fitted Luke perfectly.

He stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror as Melanie adjusted his tie.

"You look incredible, Luke."

I hovered near the ceiling, staring at their perfect reflection.

Once, I used to dream about adjusting his wedding suit.

Back when we lived in that cramped basement, he wore a cheap, off-the-rack shirt, and I used safety pins to taper the waist.

He had told me, "Grace, when I make it big, I'm going to buy you the most expensive wedding dress in the city."

Now he had the money, but the dress was for someone else.

The doorbell rang. Carter stood in the doorway, panting, his face entirely drained of color.

"Luke... I went... I went to the morgue."

Luke frowned, annoyed by his assistant's hysterics.

"Why did you go there? Didn't I tell you to ignore it?"

Carter was trembling, clutching a manila folder tightly against his chest.

"Luke, it's real."

He swallowed hard, his voice shaking.

"Grace... she really is dead."

A heavy silence stretched for ten seconds before Luke let out a dismissive snort.

"Carter, you've worked for me for five years."

"How much did Grace pay you to play along with this ridiculous lie?"

Carter thrust the folder forward with trembling hands.

"Luke! I didn't take any money!"

"I saw the body on the table with my own eyes. It's her."

"The water bloated her face, but the scar on her wrist... there's no mistaking it!"

The scar.

It happened years ago when Luke tried to cook for me for the first time. He accidentally started a grease fire, and when the kitchen cabinets collapsed, I threw myself over him, taking the scalding metal to my wrist.

"Absurd!"

Luke walked over to the sofa, crossing his legs and lighting a cigarette.

"Grace is clever. She knew exactly how to get to you."

"She draws a fake scar on her wrist, lies down on a slab, and you fools fall for it hook, line, and sinker."

Through the rising smoke, his eyes were freezing cold.

"Does she honestly think that playing victim will make me crawl back to her?"

Carter looked at him with sheer desperation.

"Luke, it's a corpse! There is no breath, no heartbeat, and her skin is already pooling with lividity..."

"Enough!"

Luke snapped, his voice echoing through the room.

"I said she isn't dead! She's alive!"

"A selfish woman like her would never have the guts to kill herself!"

Melanie shrank back, startled by his sudden outburst.

Luke took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"If she wants to play this game, fine. I'll play."

"Get the car. We're going to the morgue."

"I want to see the look on her face when I stand right in front of her. Let's see how long she can keep her eyes closed then."

I watched him storm out the door.

He was moving so fast that he had not even noticed he buttoned his coat unevenly.

Was he afraid?

No. He was just angry.

He was furious that I would push his boundaries with such an extreme stunt, utterly convinced that this was a performance and that I would break the moment he arrived.

I drifted above the car, following him all the way to the precinct.

The rain began to fall again.

A dark, oppressive downpour, just like the night I died.

Audrey stood outside the examination room, her white lab coat looking stark against the dim hallway.

When she saw Luke, her eyes held nothing but a profound, empty sorrow.

"You finally decided to show up."

Luke glared at her.

"Where is she? Tell Grace to get her ass out of here."

Audrey did not bother replying. She simply turned and pushed open the heavy double doors of the autopsy room.

The sharp, stinging scent of formaldehyde, laced with the faint, sweet stench of decay, hit us instantly.

Luke pinched his nose, letting out a sharp scoff.

"Pathetic dramatics."

In the center of the room lay a table. On it was a shape covered by a white sheet.

Peeking out from the bottom was a pale, swollen ankle.

Luke stopped two paces away, a cruel sneer on his lips.

"Grace, drop the act."

"Do you honestly think that lying here will make me cancel the wedding?"

"Get up. Let's talk like adults. How much money do you want to end this little circus?"

The figure beneath the sheet remains perfectly still.

Luke's patience snapped.

He strode forward and tore the sheet away.

I hovered near the ceiling, staring down at my own body.

It was truly hideous.

Having spent three days submerged in water, my skin had turned a ghostly, mottled grey, with patches of epidermal peeling.

My fingernails were completely torn and split from clawing at the car windows, exposing raw, dark-red flesh underneath.

And there, stark against the ruin of my arm, was the deep, thick scar on my wrist.

Luke's gaze landed on my face, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

But a moment later, a cold laugh escaped his lips.

"The special effects makeup is impressive. Must have cost a fortune."

He reached out, his fingers stretching toward my cheek.

"Let's see how long you can hold your breath under this mask."

Audrey lunged forward, slapping his hand away with a vicious crack.

"Are you insane, Luke? She's dead! Have you no respect for the deceased?"

Luke glared at his reddening hand, his expression darkening with rage.

"Audrey, assisting a civilian in faking a death is a federal offense. I can have your license revoked by tomorrow morning."

Audrey let out a bitter, hollow laugh, staring at him as if he were a monster.

"You still think this is fake?"

She reached onto a metal tray, picking up the evidence bag containing my ruined phone.

"Fine. If you won't believe your own eyes, listen to this. The tech department just recovered the audio logs."

I desperately reached out, trying to tell Audrey to stop. Please don't play it, Audrey. Please don't.

You've done more than enough for me. My parents only helped put you through college, but you've already repaid that debt tenfold by finding my body. Please, just let it go. The living need to move on.

A moment later, the sound of my ragged, desperate breathing echoed through the sterile room.

"Hello... is this dispatch? I'm trapped under the Southside Viaduct... the water is rushing into the car..."

Luke's face froze.

That was the first call.

Audrey skipped forward, pressing play on the fiftieth recording.

"Please... send help... the water is up to my chest... I can't open the doors..."

My voice on the recording was trembling, thick with the terror of impending death.

Luke's chest rose and falls rapidly, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists.

Audrey did not stop. She dragged the timeline all the way to the very last call.

The 143th call.

The voice that came through was barely a whisper, drowned out by the terrifying sound of rushing water filling the cabin.

"Luke... why... why won't you pick up..."

"It's so cold..."

"I didn't take the money back then... I just... I just wanted to hear your voice one last time..."

The line went dead with a harsh, flat beep.