Outside the ER, a woman clad in luxury brands is in the middle of lashing out hysterically at a camera.

"That stupid deliveryman is the one responsible for crashing my two-million-dollar Porsche! He even tried to steal my Hermès bag that was inside in the car! When I caught him red-handed, he tried to assault me, too!

"If he doesn't pay me 500 thousand dollars today, I'll make sure that he spends the rest of his life in jail!"

As soon as the woman is done, she collapses to the floor while clutching her chest. Obviously, she's faking her collapse.

How can a mother this vile possibly exist in this world?

Half an hour ago, that woman has locked her three-year-old son up in her car—that's exposed under the bright sun—just so she can go to a beauty spa for cosmetic procedures.

In order to save the dying child, I have no choice but to smash the window.

But that woman now paints me as the bad guy in this situation and insists on ruining my life. Unfortunately for her, she doesn't notice the action camera on my helmet.

The harsh white lights outside the emergency room were blinding.

Layla Wagner grabbed my delivery uniform by the collar and yanked hard. With a sharp rip, the fabric tore open. Her pointed nails raked across my neck, leaving three stinging cuts.

"It's him! This broke delivery guy smashed my Porsche and tried to steal my Hermès bag!" she shrieked, shoving her phone right at my face as she recorded.

The patients and their families in the area quickly closed in on us. Several security guards rushed over, wrenched my arms behind my back, and slammed me against the wall, holding me there.

My cheek was pressed against the cold tiles, leaving me unable to move.

"Let go! I was trying to save someone!" I shouted.

"Save someone? Who do you think you are, playing hero?" Layla snapped and smacked my helmet.

A dull thud sounded, and my ears buzzed.

Two police officers pushed through the crowd.

"What's going on here? Release him!" the stocky officer barked.

The guards released me. I straightened up and rubbed my aching shoulders.

Layla immediately rushed forward and clung to the officer's arm.

"Officer, you need to do something! He's a known thief. He smashed my window to rob me. My Porsche cost over two million dollars, and the damage will come up to at least 500 thousand dollars to fix. I'm also demanding compensation for emotional distress. If he doesn't pay up today, I'll have him locked up!"

The officer frowned and turned to me.

"And what's your side of the story?"

I pointed at the red-lit emergency room door.

"She locked her three-year-old son inside a car in the blazing heat. By the time we found him, he was already suffocating, in shock, and foaming at the mouth. I smashed the window with a bike lock to get him out."

A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"Oh my god, she locked a child in a car?"

"In this heat? It must've been scorching inside!"

Layla turned around and jabbed a finger at me.

"That's bullshit! My son was just taking a nap in the car. The air conditioning was on. Who gave you the right to smash my window?"

I looked at her coldly.

"The engine wasn't even running. When the child was pulled out, his body was already turning purple. He wasn't breathing."

Her gaze flickered, but then she suddenly clutched her chest.

"My chest… It hurts…"

Her body went limp as she collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.

"He smashed my car and slandered me… He's going to make me drop dead…"

A few bystanders hurried over to help her up.

"Young man, that's not right. You can't lie your way out after doing something wrong," an older woman scolded.

"Exactly. Just because someone has a nice car, you smashed it out of jealousy. Youngsters these days are terrifying," an elderly man chimed in.

I clenched my fists until my knuckles cracked.

Then I turned to look at the glowing red light above the emergency room.

The three-year-old child was still fighting for his life, while his own mother stood there faking illness and trying to extort money.

A woman who showed such disregard for her child's life didn't deserve to be a mother.

The stocky police officer raised his body camera and pointed it at me.

"Come with us. You'll need to give a statement at the station."

Layla immediately jumped up from the ground. "He can't leave! If he runs, who's going to pay for my car?"

She latched onto my waistband.

"You owe me 500 thousand dollars! If it's even a cent less, you're not getting out of this hospital today!"

I looked down at her distorted face.

"Are you sure you want me to pay?"

She snapped, "Of course! If you break something, you're responsible for paying for it!"

I nodded slowly.

"Fine. Let's wait until the police figure things out. I hope you can still act this arrogantly then."

…

Half an hour earlier, the sun bore down mercilessly on the asphalt.

While riding my electric bike past a commercial street parking lot, I noticed a black Porsche Cayenne. The windows were tightly shut, but there seemed to be a small figure in the back seat.

I brought the bike to a stop and moved closer to the car.

A three-year-old boy was strapped into a child seat inside the car. Sweat poured down his face, and his skin had taken on a bluish-purple tint. White foam spilled from his mouth. He was weakly pounding on the car window.

I grabbed the door handle. It was locked.

"Is anyone there? Whose car is this?" I shouted.

There was no one else around.

Inside the car, the child's eyes were rolling back. His movements were getting weaker by the second. If this dragged on any longer, he would die.

Without hesitation, I took the U-shaped lock off my electric bike. I aimed it at the edge of the rear window and smashed it down hard.

The glass shattered, falling onto the ground. A wave of scorching heat rushed out, mixed with the sour stench of vomit.

I reached inside and unlocked the door. Then, I unbuckled the seatbelt and pulled the child out. His body was burning hot, and he had already lost consciousness.

I immediately laid him in the shade and started CPR. After two minutes of compressions and rescue breaths, he coughed up mucus and let out a faint cry.

Just as I finally let out a breath of relief and reached for my phone to call an ambulance, a woman in high heels carrying several shopping bags rushed over. It was Layla.

She didn't spare the child on the ground a single look. She rushed straight to the Porsche, and the moment she saw the shattered window, she let out a piercing scream.

"My car!"

Then she turned sharply and stormed toward me.

A sharp slap landed across my face.

My head jerked to the side, and my cheek flared with pain.

"You poor loser! How dare you smash my car?"

She raised one of her shopping bags and slammed it against my helmet.

A second blow came right after.

"Do you have any idea how much that window costs? You'll never earn enough to pay it off even if you deliver food your entire life!"

I grabbed her wrist and pushed her away.

"Are you blind? Your son was dying!"

Layla stumbled, then finally looked down at the child on the ground. Panic flashed across her eyes for a split second, but it was quickly replaced by anger.

"My son was sleeping peacefully! Why are you sticking your nose into this? You're just trying to steal my bag from the car!"

…

Back in the hospital corridor, the stocky officer spoke into his radio. "Get the CCTV footage from the commercial street parking lot."

Layla sneered and crossed her arms.

"Go ahead. That corner doesn't even have a camera. It's a blind spot. I checked when I parked!"

The officer's expression darkened. "So you deliberately parked in a blind spot?"

Layla lifted her chin defiantly.

"I parked in a corner so my car wouldn't get scratched. What's wrong with that? But him? He deliberately picked a CCTV blind spot just to smash cars. He's clearly a repeat offender!"

She jabbed a finger toward my nose. Her spittle sprayed across my face as she screamed, "You broke loser, you're going to spend ten years in jail! Pay me 500 thousand dollars now, not a cent less!"

I wiped the saliva off my face.

"You left your child in a car that was over 140°F just so you could get cosmetic procedures done, and now you're trying to cover it up by turning on me. Aren't you afraid you'll get what's coming to you?"

Layla's eyes widened in fury. She lunged at me, aiming for my face.

"How dare you curse me! I'll tear your mouth to pieces!"

I sidestepped, and she missed, crashing into the wall instead.

"Officer! You see? He's still trying to hit me!" Layla cried out, clutching her shoulder.

The surrounding crowd once again pointed fingers at me.

"This delivery guy is way too arrogant."

"There's no surveillance footage. This time, he's done for."

I stood still and said nothing.

No surveillance? That wasn't a problem for me.

I reached up and touched the small black rectangular device on my helmet. It was a miniature action camera I had installed specifically to guard against scam incidents. A faint red light was still blinking.

…

At the end of the corridor, the elevator doors chimed open.

A man in a tailored suit strode out. His hair was slicked back, and a gold Rolex sat on his wrist. Two burly bodyguards in black followed behind him.

The moment Layla saw him, her expression changed instantly. She rushed into his arms and complained, "Darling! You're finally here! This broke nobody smashed our car and even hit me!"

The man was Layla's husband, Lucas Davidson.

Lucas patted her back lightly, then strode toward me with a cold expression.

After sizing up my worn delivery uniform, he said, "You're the one who smashed my car?"

He didn't even ask a single question about the child's condition.

I met his gaze. "Yes, and you should be thankful I did. If I had arrived five minutes later, you'd be looking at your son's corpse instead."

Lucas' face darkened, and a flash of disdain crossed his eyes.

"Don't use my kid as an excuse. You broke my car, so you're paying for it. 500 thousand dollars, not a cent less. How are you going to pay? Sell a kidney or bleed yourself dry?" he said arrogantly, looking at me like I was nothing.

I let out a cold laugh.

"I saved your son's life, and now you're demanding money from me?"

Lucas glanced at his two bodyguards.

"Seems like he won't talk unless he's at death's door."

The bodyguards immediately stepped forward, cracking their knuckles as they formed a tight circle around me.

Before they could make a move, the stocky police officer stepped between us.

"What are you doing? This is a hospital. Are you trying to assault an officer?"

Lucas raised a hand casually, and the bodyguards stepped back.

"Officer, there's been a misunderstanding. I just want to settle the compensation peacefully."

He took out a business card and handed it over.

"I'm Lucas Davidson, CEO of Steelmark Construction. I hope this matter can be resolved quickly."

The officer didn't take it. He only stared at Lucas coldly.

At that moment, the walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"Officer Smith, the traffic police have confirmed it. The streetlights were under maintenance, and the cameras were powered off. There's no footage."

Layla immediately broke free from Lucas' arms. Joy lit up her face as she exclaimed, "You heard that? There's no surveillance at all!"

She pointed at me and said sharply, "He's a thief! He tried to steal and smashed the car, and now he's making up some story about saving my child! Officer, arrest him immediately!"

The surrounding crowd immediately chimed in.

"It seems he's just a thief. He actually sounded pretty convincing."