Chapter 3

3

Time passed.

Buster finally started to come to.

Seeing him open his big, watery eyes and wag his tail, I finally felt like I could breathe again.

The next day, the vet checked Buster over, said he was good to go, and I took him home.

We barely made it out of the vet clinic before we were swarmed by a mob.

"Look, it's the deadbeat who put his dog before his wife!"

"His wife was in a car crash, pregnant! He stole the ambulance to save his mutt!"

"His wife's seriously injured from the crash, and their baby's in critical condition because he's premature, yet he's with a dog!"

"Everyone, take a good look at this jerk. If you've got the guts, punch him in the face. If not, let him know what you think!"

They were all filming me with their phones, going live, shouting insults.

It didn't take long for the crowd to get bigger.

After learning the story, the onlookers threw me the dirtiest looks possible.

The comments on the live streams were filled with hate, cursing me, telling me I didn't deserve to live.

Then it hit me. Someone had recorded everything I did yesterday and posted it online.

The video went viral.

Overnight, I had become public enemy number one.

These influencer are here to make a spectacle of me.

One of them came up to me, phone in my face, and said, loudly,

"Yesterday's video created a big discussion, some people think the video was maliciously edited."

"Now, can you tell everyone here the truth, do you think the dog is more important than your wife and child?"

I didn't hesitate for a second, I answered, "Yes, I do."

My answer set them off again.

"Oh my god, if I wasn't seeing this for myself, I wouldn't have believed someone could actually think a dog is more important than his own wife and kid?"

"If you love dogs so much, go marry one. Don't screw up someone else's life!"

"He should have been the one in the accident! What a jerk!"

The influencers were whipping everyone into a frenzy.

They were all angry, cursing, ready to tear me apart.

As I was drowning in insults, my parents showed up, pushing Sarah in a wheelchair.

Sarah looked terrible, as pale as death, barely able to sit up.

As soon as my parents wheeled her up to me, she said, worried, "Honey, are you okay?"

She barely had the strength to talk.

But she was still thinking about me.

She gave me that look of love, and I just shook my head, saying nothing.

My dad glared at me.

"Jake, your mother and I stayed up all night, trying to figure out why you're doing this to Sarah."

"We thought maybe you had some kind of misunderstanding, so we rushed a paternity test. The baby is yours, Jake. Your wife and child needs you!"