But the unease lingered, gnawing at her conscience. She hesitated, questioning the morality of her actions for the first time since she began her illicit exploits. The man’s face, serene and untroubled, seemed to judge her silently. A chill ran down her spine, and for the first time, the morgue felt oppressively cold.

As she stood there, frozen between her desire for the ring and an inexplicable sense of foreboding, she heard an eerie sound—a low, almost imperceptible sigh. Anna’s blood ran cold. She stared at the man’s chest but saw no movement. The room was silent again, yet the sound echoed in her mind. Could she have imagined it?