Chapter 1

To make it to my childhood friend's birthday party, fire captain Ethan Shaw locked me inside our house.

And that day, a fire really did break out.

I covered my nose and mouth and dialed my husband's office, crying for help:

"Help... I'm locked inside the house, the fire's already spreading—"

But the voice on the other end was ice cold:

"Mrs. Shaw, Captain Shaw warned us in advance that you'd definitely report a false alarm today. Stop making a scene."

The call was disconnected.

I dialed again. After verification, the dispatcher said hesitantly:

"Ma'am, your number has been flagged for malicious emergency calls. We need to confirm with your family first."

When they called Ethan, he only said one thing:

"She's losing it. Ignore her."

Thick smoke filled the bedroom. I shattered the window and jumped from the second floor.

I survived.

But the doctor told me:

"You were pregnant, but the baby didn't make it."

"Help! My house is on fire! I'm locked inside!"

I crouched in the corner covering my nose and mouth, dialing 911 over and over on my phone.

The fire in the kitchen had already reached the upper cabinets. The range hood was making a piercing electrical noise, and thick smoke was rolling into the living room in waves.

The call connected.

I immediately said: "My house is on fire! The door's been locked from the outside, I can't get out! The address is—"

I'd just finished giving the address when there was a pause on the other end, then a familiar male voice came on.

"Mrs. Shaw, Captain Shaw said if you called tonight, you'd just be throwing a tantrum."

I froze.

"It's not a false alarm! There's really a fire! The kitchen exploded, the door won't open, please come quickly—"

The person on the other end impatiently cut me off:

"Mrs. Shaw, fire emergencies aren't something to play around with. We're very busy here."

The call was disconnected.

I stared at the darkened screen, my fingers stiff.

The next second, there was a "bang" from the kitchen, like something had exploded. The living room curtains instantly caught fire.

A wave of heat hit my face. I was forced back two steps, then immediately dialed again.

"I'm not joking! Please send a truck! I'm really going to die—"

"Mrs. Shaw, Mr. Shaw already told us you'd act up today."

Beep—

The call was cut off again.

My phone immediately vibrated. It was a message from Ethan.

[Emma, are you done yet?]

[It's just going to Violet's birthday party. Do you really have to make a scene all the way to the fire department?]

[If you keep this up, I'm not coming home tonight.]

I stared at those lines, my throat tightening.

The fire was real.

And I really was about to die.

But the fire department didn't believe me.

No—Ethan wouldn't let them believe me.

Gritting my teeth, I dialed 911 instead.

"Emergency services, go ahead."

"Help... my house is on fire, I'm injured, I'm locked inside, please hurry..."

The dispatcher quickly logged the information.

"Please give the specific address."

As soon as I finished, the person paused for a few seconds, their tone changing.

"Ma'am, the system shows you just had a suspected false report on record. We need to verify with your family."

My voice was hoarse:

"I didn't make a false report! I really am locked in my house!"

"Please hold."

The line didn't disconnect.

A few seconds later, the dispatcher dialed another number.

The background was noisy, with music playing and people singing happy birthday.

Then I heard Ethan's voice come through.

"Is it her?"

The dispatcher asked: "Sir, can you confirm if the patient's current situation is accurate? She says there's a house fire and she's trapped—"

"She's throwing a fit." Ethan coldly interrupted. "Don't send a truck."

"Understood, sir."

The call ended.

I clutched my phone, hearing my own labored breathing.

Thick smoke poured in, choking me until I bent over, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

The living room was already impassable, the door wouldn't budge, and the kitchen fire was growing fiercer.

If I stayed any longer, I'd be burned alive.

I rushed into the guest bedroom and grabbed a chair, smashing it into the window.

With a crash, glass shattered everywhere.

This was the second floor. Below was a small street.

Jump, and I might end up crippled.

Don't jump, and I could only wait to die.

I gripped the window frame and shouted down:

"Help! Fire! Help—"

Someone looked up, someone stopped walking, and someone was shouting.

The fire had rolled into the bedroom. The curtain edges were turning black, and the bedsheets were starting to smoke.

I was out of time.

I gritted my teeth, climbed onto the windowsill, closed my eyes, and jumped.

The instant my back hit the ground, my whole body felt like it was splitting apart. Sharp pain shot through my leg bones and abdomen simultaneously, and everything went black.

Chaos erupted around me.

"Quick, call an ambulance!"

"The upstairs really is on fire!"

"She's bleeding!"

I lay on the ground, barely able to move, blood running down my legs.

Before I lost consciousness, I was still clutching my phone tightly.

The screen was frozen on the chat with Ethan.