Chapter 3

The rescue leader hesitated, his weathered face creased with concern as he looked between my daughter's trapped form and the whimpering dog. "Sir, are you certain? Your daughter appears to be in critical condition."

"Save the dog first," Jared repeated, his voice hard as stone. "It's the logical choice."

Logical. As if our daughter's life could be reduced to a calculation.

I scrambled back to my feet, mud clinging to my clothes, my hair, my hands. "How can you do this to your own child?" I screamed, my voice breaking. "Emma! Baby, Mommy's here! Keep calling out!"

Emma's voice came back, weaker now. "Mommy... it hurts..."

The rescue team exchanged uncertain glances before reluctantly nodding. "We'll do what we can," the leader said, though his eyes held an apology he dared not voice.

I watched in horror as they carefully navigated the treacherous path toward Muffin, ignoring my daughter's outstretched hand. Each moment felt like an eternity as they worked to free Chelsea's precious pet.

Chelsea stood beside Jared, her perfectly manicured hands clutching his arm. "Thank you," she whispered, loud enough for me to hear. "You saved him."

Jared patted her hand, his eyes fixed on the rescue operation. Not once did he look toward Emma.

"How can you do this to your own child?" I repeated, my voice barely audible now. "She's dying while you comfort her."

Jared turned his back on me, pulling Chelsea closer as she sobbed dramatically into his shoulder. "You're overreacting, Valeria. Emma is strong. She'll be fine."

The rescue team worked methodically, their movements careful and precise. After what felt like hours, they finally reached Muffin. The small white dog yelped as they gently extracted him from the debris.

"Got him!" one of the rescuers called out. "He's alive!"

Chelsea rushed forward, nearly knocking over a team member in her haste to reach her beloved pet. "My baby! Oh, my poor baby!"

I stumbled toward Emma, but the rescue leader held me back. "Ma'am, please. The area is unstable. We need to clear this section before we can reach your daughter."

Behind us, I heard Jared's voice, calm and decisive. "Chelsea, we need to get Muffin to a vet right away."

"What about Emma?" I whirled around, disbelieving.

Jared was already guiding Chelsea toward his SUV, Muffin cradled in her arms. "The next team will get Emma," he said without even looking in our daughter's direction. "She's strong, she'll be fine."

"She's your daughter!" I screamed, lunging toward him only to be held back by one of the rescuers.

Jared finally looked at me, his eyes cold and distant. "Don't be dramatic, Valeria. The second team is on their way. You're making this harder than it needs to be."

Then he was gone, climbing into the driver's seat while Chelsea settled Muffin on her lap in the passenger seat.

I collapsed to my knees in the mud, watching them drive away. The remaining rescue team members shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze.

"I need to stay with Emma," I whispered. "Please, I need to be near her."

They helped me move to a relatively stable spot where I could see my daughter's hand still reaching out from beneath the fallen tree.

"Emma, baby," I called, my voice steady now despite the tears streaming down my face. "Mommy's here. Help is coming. Just hold on."

The next three hours were the longest of my life. I talked constantly to Emma, singing her favorite songs, telling her stories about when she was a baby. Sometimes she would respond with a weak cry or a movement of her fingers. Other times, there was nothing but silence.

"Stay with me, baby," I pleaded as the sun began to set behind the mountains. "Please, Emma. Mommy's right here."

A second rescue team finally arrived, their equipment more advanced than the first group's. Hope flared in my chest as they quickly assessed the situation.

"We'll have her out soon," their leader assured me with a confidence that eased some of the weight in my chest.

But as they worked to clear the debris around Emma, I saw the change in their expressions—subtle shifts that told me something was wrong.

"Is she...?" I couldn't finish the question.

The leader knelt beside me, his face grave. "Ma'am, I'm so sorry. Your daughter has passed away. The internal injuries and exposure were too severe."

The world went silent. I couldn't hear the rescue workers speaking around me. I couldn't feel the cold mountain air or the mud beneath my knees. All I could see was Emma's small hand, still reaching out for help that had come too late.

"My baby," I whispered, reaching toward her. "Mommy's here now, Emma. Mommy's here."