The Dispatcher's Crime and My Vengeance

My son spiked a sudden high fever, scorching like a flame under my touch.

I frantically dialed 911 for help, but the dispatcher on the line kept repeating questions, dragging it out.

By the time the ambulance siren finally wailed in the distance, my son had already grown cold and still in my arms.

Less than a year later, my husband and I split up amid endless grief and finger-pointing. I dragged on like an empty shell until one day I got an e-invite to his wedding.

The moment I clicked the voice message, my blood ran cold. The bride's voice echoed exactly like that sluggish dispatcher from back then.

In a breakdown, I bolted out of the house and got caught in the path of a speeding subway train, plunging me into darkness.

When I opened my eyes again, my son's cries pierced the air from the next room, his forehead blazing hot against my palm.

My husband thrust the phone toward me. "Quick, call 911! I'll grab a cold compress."

My hands trembled as I dialed, and a chillingly familiar voice answered, "Hello, 911 emergency services."

Chapter 1

That familiar voice made my hair stand on end, as images from my past life crashed into my mind like a tidal wave.

I recalled every agonizing detailmy son's warmth fading inch by inch in my embrace, my husband bellowing in raw panic, and the bride's saccharine tone in that e-invite.

"We'd love for you to join us in celebrating our joy..."

It was herTessa Vickers from next door, the one who always "happened" to bump into Chris Brock and me in the elevator, gushing about how he embodied the perfect family man.

Her voice drifted through the line again, languid and calculated. "Hello? Can you hear me? Do you need an ambulance? Is it your kid? Running a fever?"

A frigid chill surged from my toes to the crown of my head. In this reborn life, I hadn't uttered a single word about the emergency yet, so how did she already know about my son's illness? Unless she had anticipated this call, lurking in wait.

I slammed the call shut, my wrist quaking violently.

Chris burst out of the bathroom with a damp washcloth, skidding to a halt at the sight of my dazed stance. "What happened? Did the call connect? You don't look so well."

I brushed past him, scooped up my son, and bolted for the door. Time was slipping away; I refused to entrust our fate to that poisonous viper.

"What are you doing?" Chris leaped forward, blocking the entryway with a stunned glare. "Did you summon the ambulance? Where are you rushing him off to?"

"Move aside!" I snarled through clenched teeth, my voice trembling with rage. "I'm driving him to the hospital myself!"

"Have you lost your senses?" he barked back. "His fever is raging. The ambulance will be faster. It's the safest option!"

He snatched the phone from the couch, redialed 911, and switched to speaker mode. That spine-tingling voice echoed once more. "Hello, 911 emergency services."

"Hey, my son is suddenly burning up," Chris said quickly, his panic raw and real. "Please send an ambulance right away!"

Tessa's response flowed smoothly. "Alright, sir, stay calm. We're dispatching the nearest unit to you immediately."

Her efficiency starkly contrasted the sluggish delay she had inflicted on me just moments ago.

He hung up with a heavy exhale, then pivoted toward me, his gaze laced with frustration and confusion. "See? Simple as that. Why are you spiraling like this?"

Chapter 2

Chris continued, "If you'd just spoken clearly to the dispatcher from the start, Wesley might already be in the ambulance now."

A scornful laugh escaped my lips. Tessa's abrupt shift in demeanor sealed my suspicionsthis pair of traitors had entangled themselves long ago.

Memories flooded back from my previous life: Tessa draped in a flawless white gown, snuggling against him with a saccharine smile.

The invite's message taunted me: [Moving on from past burdens, embracing a fresh start together.]

Past burdens? My son's life and our shattered home were just burdens they needed to move on from?

I locked eyes with the man who shared my bed and hissed, "The ambulance won't come. If you truly care about Wesley, step out of my way now."

His eyes widened in shock, and he staggered back. I ignored him, cradling Wesley Brock as faint tremors rippled through his fevered body, and bolted for the elevator.

Chris's pounding footsteps and desperate shouts trailed me, but I blocked them out, racing to the car.

I gently secured my limp son in the backseat, fastening the buckle with care. His cheeks glowed crimson, his breath ragged and shallow. Each wasted moment clawed at my soul.

I dove into the driver's seat, twisted the key, and ignited the engine. A faint hiss whispered first, then the dashboard erupted with a tire pressure alarm. The front right tire deflated rapidly before my eyes.

I leaped out to inspect, spotting a jagged hole in the rubber. Crouching low, I spied a glittering nail tip nearby and ground my teeth.

It was one of Tessa's press-on nails. She'd flashed them yesterday in the elevator, deliberately flipping her hair.

It dawned on me that she had orchestrated this, sabotaging my tire to trap us. But Wesley's fever erupted without warning, so how had she timed it so precisely? Unless...

A darker thought crossed my mind, chilling me to the core. I pocketed the nail tip, gathered my wailing son, and sprinted to the complex's exit.

The night streets stretched eerily silent, vehicles whooshing past sporadically, yet no vacant taxi appeared. Wesley's gasps weakened in my arms, and desperation surged in me.

I dashed into the road and flung my arms wide to halt traffic.

Tires shrieked against the pavement as a car screeched to a stop mere inches away. The window buzzed down, and the driver thrust his head out, bellowing, "What the hell? Are you suicidal?"

"Please!" I surged forward. "My son's fading fast. Help us reach the nearest hospital!"

I tilted Wesley into view, revealing his labored wheezes. The driver's tirade halted mid-breath. He sucked in air sharply and flung open the door. "Hop in!"

I tumbled into the back, and he slammed the accelerator, hurtling toward the children's hospital.

I cradled Wesley, staring at his crimson cheeks as my nails dug into my palms.

He was fine yesterday. What sparked this inferno? That persistent cough... Could it stem from an allergy? But how had an allergen invaded our home?

My mind racing, I yanked open the home security app on my phone. In seconds, the truth unveiled itself.

With the driver's help, we made it to the hospital fast. No sooner had I placed Wesley on the gurney than that dreaded voice sliced the air. "Irene? How is your son?"

Tessa lingered a few steps away, her expression sculpted with feigned worry.

Chapter 3

And right beside Tessa stood Chris.

"I heard from Chris and couldn't shake my concern, so I followed along," she explained smoothly.

Their united front ignited a glacial fury that roared through my veins.

"Followed along?" I sneered, curling my lips in mockery. "Or to confirm my son won't survive, clearing the path for you adulterers to shed your burdens and start fresh sooner?"

Chris's face twisted in disbelief. "What nonsense is this? Wesley is fighting for his life, and you're ranting like a madwoman."

"Ranting?" I stepped closer, my tone sharpening. "Look into my eyes and confess. How long have you and Tessa been betraying me? Did it start before Wesley's illness? While he burned with fever, did you slip away for stolen moments, secretly praying he'd disappear?"

"You're insane!" Chris's temples throbbed as he jabbed a finger at me. "She's just a neighbor offering help."

"Help?" I sneered. "She stalled me on the call and slashed my tire. You think I'm that dumb? Dumb enough to mourn my son while you play innocent?"

Chris stiffened, reeling from the barrage of revelations. Beside him, Tessa grieved, her eyes pooling with tears.

She clutched his sleeve and whimpered, "Perhaps Irene's overwhelmed, seeing things that aren't there. I'd never stoop so low. I know she resents me, but I genuinely fretted over the child."

She extended a tentative hand toward Wesley. "Is he improving? Let me just..."

As her fingers inched toward his searing skin, my bottled rage detonated. "Don't you dare lay your grimy hands on him!"

I thrust her away with force; she yelped and reeled backward.

Chris's brows knit in disapproval as he steadied her in a chair. Wheeling on me, he hissed, "What game are you playing? This isn't the place for hysterics. Without her pull, that ambulance never would've raced here so fast."

His judgmental stare echoed countless past scoldings, branding me as overly emotional.

Flashes assaulted me: Chris fumbling his first cradle of Wesley, beaming ear-to-ear when Wesley called him Daddy, our late-night tag-teams soothing cries...

Yet now, he shielded another woman, hurling blame at me. In that heartbeat, my heart crystallized into ice, forging an unyielding vow. This time, I'd exact retribution on those who dared harm my son.

Medics whisked Wesley into the ER, the red light pulsing like a warning.

I whirled back to Chris with a derisive snort. "For starters, no ambulance ever arrived. I hailed a stranger's car to get him here."

Brushing off his stunned silence, I addressed the nurses' station. "Page Dr. Spence for my son, please. I must report potential hazards he encountered."

My eyes darted to Tessa's whitened knuckles. "Particularly if they link back to her."

The rims of her eyes reddened. "I understand your panic over your son, but you can't accuse me without cause."

Chapter 4

Tessa pivoted to Chris, her tears teetering on the brink. "I only came to lend a hand, figuring you might need support. Why would I harm a child? I've scarcely glimpsed him a few times."

Chris's frown deepened, his gaze on me heavy with weariness and exasperation. "Irene, you've acted strangely all night."

Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I urged you to call 911. You disconnected and insisted on driving. I argued the ambulance offered speed and safety, but you flipped out, claiming I'd endanger him."

Embarrassment flushed his cheeks, but he forged ahead. "Okay, maybe fear clouded your judgment. After the tire puncture, I summoned help. Tessa graciously prioritized our case and trailed us here out of worry. Instead of gratitude, you shoved her. Worse, you babble about suspicious items and implicate her?"

His raised voice drew stares from nearby families and nurses, sparking murmurs.

"This mom has lost it, huh?"

"That lady helped them, then got attacked for it?"

"The child's illness explains the stress, but this crosses a line."

Tessa sniffled on cue, her frame quivering for effect, while Chris listed my faults.

An arctic chill seeped into my bones. To him, my desperate safeguards boiled down to irrational ingratitude.

I delved into my pocket for the iridescent nail tip, its edge smeared with residue. "A sharp object pierced the tire."

I brandished it before Tessa's face. Under the fluorescent glow, it aligned flawlessly with her chipped manicure. "Yours, isn't it? How conveniently it was lodged beside my sabotaged wheel!"

Her complexion blanched momentarily, but tears surged anew. "It could have dropped accidentally. I strolled the lot yesterday, but that proves nothing. This is absurd."

She appealed to Chris, her sobs intensifying. "I swear it wasn't me. Irene's nerves are frayed, breeding paranoia. I understand her worry as a mother, but I can't let her slander me like this."

Chris's resolve wavered. He sighed, massaging his temples. "One stray nail means what? Steady yourself, Irene. Wait until Wesley emerges, alright?"

His blatant bias snapped my last thread of patience. But before I could retort, Tessa interjected softly, "Ease up. She's frantic about the boy. What if he doesn't pull..."

My palm cracked across her cheek, silencing her mid-sentence. She clutched her face, her eyes bulging in shock.

"Irene, what's your problem?" Chris thundered, his veins bulging. "Tessa helped save our son. How could you hit her?"

His arm swung upward, primed to retaliate. In that frozen instant, the nurse barreled back, clutching a sealed bag brimming with colorful fibers.