With one last glance at the man’s still body, Anna whispered a silent apology, more to herself than to him, and backed away from the table. The morgue was no place for her ambitions. It was a place for respect, for farewell. As she exited the room, the cold air seemed to lift slightly, and she felt a sense of relief wash over her—a release from the self-inflicted chains of greed.

Though the road ahead was uncertain, Anna knew one thing for sure: she would never forget the lesson learned in the quiet of the morgue, a lesson etched in the silent grip of a dead man’s hand.