In the past, I'd cut the power and used wet cloths to shield his hands. I'd used leverage to move the debris carefully, ensuring he was extracted intact. I destroyed my own lungs in the process, leaving me with a lifelong respiratory illness.
And he hated me for it.
I wondered if he'd be satisfied with the "Department Beauty" who'd just crippled him for life.
Right on cue, the savior herself stormed over.
"You're his parents, right? Perfect!" She held out her hand. "Your son promised me two million if I got him out. Hurry up and pay!"
Vincent whipped around, brows knitting furiously. "Who the hell are you? This is a hospital—stop screaming!"
"I'm his savior!" The girl puffed out her chest, oblivious to the atmosphere. "If I hadn't dragged him out, he'd be a pile of ash by now! Pay up. Two million, not a cent less!"
Vincent froze. His eyes narrowed.
"You dragged him out?"
Vincent Finch's face darkened.
"The doctor said his hands are destroyed because they were dragged across the ground! If you lack common sense, stay out of rescue situations!"
Rage propelled him forward. He seized the girl by the collar.
That single, violent tug revealed something impossible.
"Watch it! What are you, a pervert?"