The Hero Who Left Me to Die My Husband's Deadly Betrayal

At the post-earthquake rescue hero commendation ceremony, the official presenting my husband's award publicly praised his selflessness.

"Everyone should learn from Captain Fletcher—the spirit of sacrificing family for the greater good. After locating his wife first, he still chose to rescue civilians."

From my wheelchair, I addressed my husband on stage, a ceremonial red flower pinned to his chest.

"Captain Fletcher, if you could choose again, would you still choose not to save your own wife?"

His grip tightened on the certificate. He glared down at me.

"Of course. As my wife, you should embody the spirit of self-sacrifice. The rescue was three days late—so what? You're still alive, aren't you?"

I looked at my empty pant leg, then pulled the divorce agreement from my bag.

"Fine. Since you're so eager to avoid suspicion, starting today, I'm no longer your wife."

1.

"Do you have to make a scene like this on my big day?"

My husband, Joel Fletcher, his face instantly turned dark as charcoal. He gritted his teeth and hissed, "If I'd known, I never should've let you come here to embarrass me."

The official hurried down from the stage and pressed the medal into my hand.

"Ms. Simmons, I understand you feel wronged, but this is the responsibility of being a hero's family. Look at this medal—aren't you proud of your husband from the bottom of your heart?"

I threw it away. The medal I'd traded my leg for clattered across the floor.

"I only want my leg back. I only want to stand up, run, jump—be a normal person." I looked at the crowd. "Whoever wants that medal can have it. Looking at it makes me sick."

The official's expression soured. "Ms. Simmons, your awareness is lacking. You could learn a thing or two from your husband."

I let out a cold laugh, cutting him off.

"High awareness? Then let your wife lie under rubble for three days without food or water. Do that, and I'll praise your awareness too. I'll beat drums and deliver a banner to your door myself."

His face cycled through several shades. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Joel saw I'd made the official lose face and jumped down from the stage.

"Elisa, don't push it." His voice was sharp. "Do you know how many people we rescued that night? Every minute of delay meant more deaths. How did you become so selfish—sacrificing other people's lives for one leg?"

I watched his agile movements. No love left in my eyes. Only hatred.

"You're not selfish. You just couldn't rescue your own critically injured wife first—had to avoid suspicion." My voice cracked. "I begged you for two full days. I heard you rushing past me, rescuing everyone else. You even rescued the cat lying next to me."

The crowd murmured.

"You said the same thing then. 'Don't be selfish. The cat's owner is worried sick.'" I was shaking now. "Would it have killed you to pull me out while you were at it? Then maybe I wouldn't have needed an amputation!"

I looked at my empty left leg, and the tears came.

The doctor said if I'd arrived one day earlier, my muscles wouldn't have necrotized. I could've kept my leg.

But he needed to avoid suspicion. Couldn't have people saying he was abusing his position.

The audience started whispering, pointing.

The official glanced around nervously and stepped forward. "Ms. Simmons, your sacrifice for the greater good—we all see it. I'll personally order a banner made for you. Tomorrow we'll deliver it to your home with drums and fanfare." He lowered his voice. "But today is Hero Fletcher's big day. Please, no more complaints."

Joel stood beside him, nodding and bowing, thanking the official profusely.