My Husband Chosed to Save the Daughter of His First Love

"Mom, save me! Please!" My daughter shouted through tears.

My heart broke as I watched my daughter tied to a pillar and crying uncontrollably.

Beside her, another little girl was also wailing loudly. "Mr. Campbell, save me! Please!"

The kidnappers, surrounded by police, remained unfazed.

At that moment, a woman in a white dress arrived at the scene.

I was entirely focused on my daughter and didn't notice the way Charles looked at that woman.

The woman sobbed, "My sweetheart, I'm here for you. The police officers will save you."

The kidnapper pointed his gun at the two girls. "Charles, aren't you known for being so capable? Come on. Make a choice now. As dedicated officer, will you choose your own daughter or a stranger's daughter."

Tears streamed down my face as I looked at Charles Campbell, my husband, full of hope that he would choose our daughter.

"Amber, come here," he said.

But things didn't go as I wished. He chose the stranger's daughter.

I turned my head and stared blankly at my husband.

I kept comforting myself. He was a police officer. It was understandable for him to choose the other girl.

I had to trust him. He would definitely save our daughter.

The kidnapper patted the girl named Amber on the shoulder. "You're free now!"

The girl trembled as she walked over.

Meanwhile, my daughter had a gun pointed at her head.

"Mr. Campbell, now you have to bear the consequence of your choice." With that, the kidnapper turned and pushed my daughter off the fourth floor.

The sniper's shot rang out, hitting the kidnapper, who collapsed instantly.

I panicked and walked over, trembling, and saw my daughter lying in a pool of blood.

I lost my mind and bolted downstairs, completely ignoring Charles, who was holding the other girl and comforting the woman in the white dress.

The sound of police sirens and ambulances filled the air.

I followed the ambulance to the hospital.

My daughter was rushed into the operating room for emergency surgery.

I leaned against the wall outside the operating room, sitting alone.

I wanted to call Charles, but after searching all my pockets, I couldn't find my phone.

I had no choice but to wait.

Six hours later, the doctor emerged from the operating room. "The surgery was successful, but she's not out of danger yet. She'll need to be transferred to the ICU."

I burst into tears of relief.

I followed the nurse to the ICU.

My daughter was only six years old, her tiny body covered with tubes.

The sight brought tears to my eyes again.

Once the surgery was over, I hurried to inform Charles.

I borrowed a phone from the nurse's station and called him.

The phone rang for a full thirty seconds before he finally picked up. "Hello?"

"Honey, it's me. Our daughter..."

Before I could finish, Charles interrupted me. "Scarlett, don't you know how busy I am right now? It's great she's safe now, but you don't have to call me for that."

With that, he hung up without hesitation.

"Charles, what's wrong?" the woman asked, looking up at him.

"Nothing," he replied.

The little girl on the hospital bed had her leg wrapped in layers of gauze from a scrape.

"Mr. Campbell, I want an apple," the girl said sweetly.

The woman smiled and scolded her gently, "Amber, be good. Don't trouble Mr. Campbell."

"It's fine," Charles said.

That night, I stayed by my daughter's side. The monitor beeped erratically all of a sudden.

And a group of doctors and nurses rushed in to resuscitate her.

The nurse pushed me out of the room, and I stood outside, watching through the glass as my daughter's breathing grew weaker.

The resuscitation process felt like a century. When the doctor finally came out, he shook his head regretfully. "We did everything we could."

I fell to the ground, overwhelmed with grief. "No, this can't be true. It's not possible. Please, I'm begging you, save my daughter. Please!"

The doctor shook his head again and helped me to my feet.

I stumbled into the room and shook my daughter frantically, begging her to wake up.

But no matter how hard I tried, she wouldn't wake up. She couldn't call me "Mommy" anymore.

In the early hours of the morning, my parents rushed to the hospital.

When my mother saw her granddaughter lying lifeless on the bed, she broke down in tears.

Even my father's eyes welled up with tears. "Where's Charles?" he asked.

I had tried calling Charles twice after my daughter's passing, but both calls were immediately declined.

My father tried calling him as well, but his first attempt was also rejected.

Finally, on his second attempt, Charles answered.