My Signature or My Life: My Wife Makes Me Choose

Nicholas' voice came over the speakers, tinged with a hint of exaggerated fear, though there was no hiding the excitement in his tone.

"Samantha, don't you think that's a little too much? After all, Henry—"

Scoffing, Samantha raised a hand and interrupted him. "He certainly didn't think it was too much when he edited your diagnostic plan and ruined your future, nor did he care when your family was in dire straits. Release them!"

Her last two words were barked straight into the microphone as an order.

Immediately, a rusted metal door at the side of the operating room was opened electronically, the gears screeching with friction. Not one, but many dark blurs shot out of the darkness, growling and barking madly.

The dogs' eyes were completely bloodshot, and viscous drool hung from their jaws. They seemed entirely out of their minds as they charged at the only target in the room—me!

The live stream chat went into an uproar.

"Oh fuck! Those are dogs!"

"There's something off about them! Are they rabid?"

"Dr. Sonnet is truly going beyond cruel! Dogs that have contracted rabies? That guy is doomed with just one bite!"

"Everyone, look at his reaction!"

Even without the reminders, I felt as though my heart was about to leap out of my chest. A primal fear swiftly coursed through me.

Those dogs had clearly been driven mad by starvation, pain, and disease. They bared their fangs, abnormal amounts of drool clinging to their lips, their eyes locked onto me.

The largest among them, a wolfdog, suddenly pounced, menacing growls ripping from its throat.

Not only was Samantha trying to humiliate me, but she was even hoping I would contract rabies and suffer a slow, agonizing death.

My survival instincts kicked in, drowning out everything else. I threw myself to the side, crashing into the cement floor and narrowly avoiding the first snap of the rabid dog's jaws. The pain of slamming into the hard ground tore a grunt from my throat.

Samantha's cold laughter drifted over the speakers, loud and clear.

"Now you're scared, huh? Henry, haven't you always acted all high and mighty, as though everything were filthy and beneath you? Well, how does it feel to be rolling around with those diseased mutts?"

Landing on empty air, the dog swiftly spun around and crouched to prepare for another strike, drool dripping onto the ground. I could see its muscles clenching and tightening, its gaze never leaving me.

"Those are definitely symptoms of rabies! There's no hope for him now!"

Comments scrolled across the screen relentlessly. Some netizens were terrified on my behalf, but most were thirsting for blood, eagerly cheering the dogs on.

When Samantha spoke again, I could hear her relishing the cruelty.

"Henry, you'll suffer a fate worse than death if you get even one bite from them! If you beg me now, I can still have my men lure them away. However, any later, and not even God can save you!"

The pack of rabid dogs closed in until I could smell the disgusting stench of rot and filth.

I curled up in a corner and held my breath, trying to make myself as small a target as possible. All the while, my eyes remained locked on the pack leader.

It stopped several steps away and tilted its head, almost as if it were debating where to bite me.

Samantha's voice blared over the speakers again, her tone now manic.

"Henry, beg me! All you need to do is beg me, and I'll let you live!"

Her loud voice served only to agitate the pack leader; it let out a chilling howl before leaping toward me again.

With my back pressed against the cold wall, I had nowhere left to retreat.

Just as despair threatened to overwhelm me—and I debated using my arm to shield myself—the heavy steel door of the operating room collapsed inward with a tremendous boom. Immediately after, a short burst of gunfire rang out.

The pack leader was in mid-jump when its heart and head exploded into a bloody mess. It slammed into the ground, twitching twice before falling still.

Meanwhile, the rest of the pack were swiftly shot to death or captured by the men in black uniforms who swarmed into the room.

In an instant, the smell of gunpowder masked the metallic scent of blood and the dogs' stench.

A familiar voice cut through the air, stern and filled with undeniable authority.

"He doesn't need to beg anyone!"