Someone at the scene started a livestream.

"Everyone, come look at Hero Fletcher's wife questioning our hero at the award ceremony—demanding to know why he didn't save her first."

Curses flooded the screen.

[Your life is a life, but everyone else's isn't? Hero Fletcher did the right thing.]

[If we'd known you were like this, he might as well have left you to die.]

[I heard she was screaming for him to save her first the whole time. Thank god Hero Fletcher put the greater good first.]

I watched the viewer count climb and shot back.

"Just because I'm his wife, I'm supposed to wait to die?"

The commotion drew Joel out from the venue.

He took one look at the crowd and bowed his head first.

"I'm sorry, everyone. Ever since my wife's amputation, she hasn't been herself. Please be understanding."

The accusations flipped to praise instantly.

"Our hero really sees the big picture. That wife only drags him down."

"Hero Fletcher, you're the best of us."

Joel straightened his suit and the oversized red ribbon pinned to his chest.

"I'm grateful for everyone's recognition. I'll keep working hard—never forget my original purpose—sacrifice myself to help others."

"Even if you gave me ten thousand chances to choose again, I would still pick the person who needed help most. Without hesitation."

Applause erupted.

Staff ushered him back inside. Commissioner Donovan was going to present the award personally this time, to promote his heroic deeds further.

I was stopped at the door.

"Ms. Song, given your behavior, you're banned from entering."

The staffer—William Jennings, according to his badge—crossed his arms.

"Our city finally has a hero worth reporting on. You want to ruin that? Leadership will have my head."

"You're already like this." He gestured at my wheelchair. "Why not let Captain Fletcher ride this wave? Get promoted, get a raise. Why make things ugly?"

Before I could respond, Joel grabbed the handles of my wheelchair and carried me—chair and all—down the entrance steps.

Those few stairs became a chasm I couldn't cross.

"What are you doing? It's still raining. My wound hasn't healed—it'll get infected!"

The drizzle made me shiver uncontrollably.

Joel leaned close to my ear.

"Mr. Jennings is right," he murmured. "Your head isn't clear. You need to wake up."

Then he turned and walked away. The staffer followed.

Blood was already seeping through the bandage at my knee. In despair, I looked at the crowd, at the livestream still recording.

"This is the hero you worship? A hero who abuses disabled people?"

I thought someone would speak up. That they'd finally see him for what he was.

Vegetable scraps hit me first. Then eggs. Then fruit.

"Vile woman—slandering our hero again!"

"We won't let the city's hero be dragged through the mud. Not even by his own family."

Trapped in the wheelchair, I had nowhere to hide. I could only watch the eggs arc toward me.

The man who earned his title by sacrificing me was inside, accepting his award.

And I was outside, one leg gone, pelted with garbage.

The comments kept scrolling:

[Disgusting. She doesn't deserve to be a hero's family.]

I gripped the documents in my lap and looked up at the crowd.

"Does he really deserve this title?"

"Is he really that selfless?"

"Did he really save me last for the greater good?"

I drew a shaky breath and shouted the questions into the rain.

A venue staffer came sprinting down the steps and snatched the documents from my hands.

"Good thing Captain Fletcher told me to keep an eye on you. Sure enough—you went crazy again."

I watched him frantically flip through the papers, then hurl them all to the ground.

"What do you think I was holding? Do you also know?"

He stammered, refusing to answer.

That's when the ground started spinning again. Cloudvale is earthquake country—we get several every year.

With a deafening crash, all the temporary structures at the entrance collapsed. Our entire group was buried beneath the rubble.

People inside the venue came rushing out. Joel was first among them. He looked at me and the staffer—William Jennings—trapped at the very front.

Then he turned around and went to save the people in the back first.

William begged desperately. "Captain Fletcher, save me first! Her wheelchair is crushing my arm—it hurts so bad!"

The temporary structure was lightweight. Most people didn't need help; they could shove the debris aside and crawl out themselves. But my wheelchair had him pinned.

I looked at him mockingly. "Stop dreaming. He won't save you first. Too many witnesses—he needs to avoid suspicion."

Only after Joel had rescued everyone else did he finally pull us from the rubble.

William's arm was already broken. A long gash ran down it, blood flowing freely. He stared at Joel in disbelief.

"Captain Fletcher, why didn't you save me first? I was the one who needed help the most. They could all crawl out themselves."

Before Joel could answer, the crowd turned on William.

"Kid, you really have no manners. How do we not need help? We're old and frail—one wrong move and we break a bone."

"Only your life is precious? Everyone else's doesn't count?"

Joel looked at him with open disapproval. "The situation was urgent. I could only save the people who needed help the most first. You understand, right?"

I sat in my wheelchair and watched William's face go pale. He opened his mouth to argue, but seeing everyone pointing and whispering, he closed it again.

He felt it now—the knife only hurts when it's stuck in your own body.

His pain formed a perfect contrast with the pride on Joel's face. One pale and clutching his injured arm. One beaming and accepting everyone's praise.

Before he left, William walked to my side and bowed deeply.

"Mr. Song, I'm sorry. I wrongly blamed you. Only when I was the one abandoned did I understand how you felt." He paused. "I know you want a divorce. I have a video. I hope it helps."

Seeing the file land on my phone, a smile finally crossed my face.

"Hurry to the hospital, William. Don't leave regrets like I did."

His departure drew little concern. Joel was already being pulled from spot to spot, posing for photos in front of the rubble.

The divorce agreement I'd printed lay on the ground, trampled under their feet again and again. I clenched the phone in my hand.

Soon. Soon—Joel, I'll let you be happy a little longer.

More and more people started livestreaming. Everyone wanted a piece of the traffic. Phones were practically shoved in his face.

Commissioner Donovan emerged from the venue. In front of over a hundred thousand viewers, he praised Joel again—urged everyone to learn from his spirit of sacrificing his own family for the greater good.

The atmosphere in the livestream and at the scene erupted.

The crowd chanted in unison: "City Hero! Learn from the City Hero!"

Commissioner Donovan surveyed the scene with satisfaction, waved, and made his exit.

I pushed my wheelchair slowly to the very front.

"Wait. I have something to say."