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."
