Shattered Bonds novel Chapter 1

My body was found in an abandoned building. A construction worker, vomiting repeatedly, called the police. My parents rushed over from Wyatt’s victory celebration. The forensic expert frowned and signaled them to put on masks. Despite being seasoned professionals who had seen countless crime scenes, even they were shaken by the sight of my corpse.

It was the peak of summer, and my body had bloated grotesquely, the face smashed into a bloody, unrecognizable mess. My body was covered in injuries, with only a small piece of skin keeping my head attached to my neck. The smell of decay was overwhelming.

My mom closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began the preliminary examination. Her gaze was filled with pity as she looked at my body. I had never experienced that kind of tenderness from her when I was alive.

I watched anxiously as she removed the bloodstained ring from my hand. I had made identical rings for my family as gifts, but my parents had scolded me because Wyatt’s didn’t fit him. “You always have bad intentions, trying to bully your brother!” “Jason, even though you’re our biological son, Wyatt’s been part of this family for 18 years. He’ll always be more important than you!”

Their angry words still echoed in my mind, but I believed they loved me. They had to recognize the ring I gave them! But my mom just calmly handed the ring to her assistant to bag as evidence.

I shouldn’t have expected anything. In their hearts, I never really existed. Even though I was their biological son.

My brother once told me that Wyatt was adopted because they could never find me after I was kidnapped, and that I was their favorite all along. But when I came home, there was no place left for me. I felt like an intruder.

After surveying the scene, my dad sighed and asked my mom, "What’s the situation with the body?" My mom removed her gloves and rubbed her furrowed brow. "The victim seems to be about 20 years old. Cause of death looks like a slit throat, but there were signs of prolonged torture."

"The brutality of it is horrible. We need to solve this before it stirs up too much public outrage." My dad lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag as if trying to calm his nerves. Even in death, I was causing them trouble.

The forensic expert reminded them, "The killer is still out there. Make sure your family stays safe, especially with both your kids at home. Don’t let them go out at night." My mom, impatient, replied, "Wyatt’s always well-behaved. It’s Jason I can’t control."

At a meeting to discuss the case, after listening to my mom’s autopsy report, the officers in the room looked grim. My face had been so badly disfigured that they couldn’t use facial recognition. The abandoned building where my body was dumped wasn’t the primary crime scene, making the investigation much more challenging.

My dad assigned officers to search the area around the dump site for any suspicious activity. “Have the coroner re-examine the body and see if we missed anything. Get the DNA samples sent to the lab ASAP,” he told my mom before hurrying off with his team.

They were more concerned about the corpse than they had ever been about me.

I remembered how my mom once gently stroked Wyatt’s hair, saying that a medical examiner’s job was noble because they spoke for the dead. I watched Wyatt nod in agreement, but as soon as she turned her back, he wiped his hair off, disgusted.