When I received the notification that my mother was in critical condition, I rushed toward Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center like a madwoman.

The Uber was stuck on Storrow Drive for half an hour.

I was shaking all over with anxiety.

Seeing my state, the driver kindly said, "Miss, maybe you should get out and run. The traffic ahead is terrible."

I immediately pushed the door open and sprinted toward the hospital.

But at the entrance of the apartment building, I was aggressively surrounded by a group of people.

They had doxxed my identity and found my address in Cambridge.

These people wore T-shirts with slogans, holding signs like "Protect Dr. Ricci" and "Stop the Lies."

They looked like an organized group.

Righteously demanding that I apologize to Olivia.

"Sophia Rossi, come out, you liar!"

"Slandering a good person like Dr. Ricci, where is your conscience?"

"Dr. Ricci saved my mom's life, what right do you have to hurt her!"

Countless rotten vegetables, rotten eggs, and even unopened soda cans rained down on me.

I shielded my head, trying desperately to squeeze through.

"Move! Please move! My mom is in the hospital, she's dying!"

But no one paid attention to me.

Someone shoved me hard.

I fell heavily onto the concrete.

My knees scraped open, blood flowing immediately.

The intense pain made me gasp, but I couldn't care less.

I struggled, trying to crawl up.

"Want to pass? Unless you admit to the camera right now that you were lying!"

A leading woman held up a phone, the camera lens almost shoved into my face.

The flash blinded me.

"Record it quick! Let the world see this liar's face!"

The crowd around jeered, surrounding me tightly again.

They had no intention of letting me pass.

To escape, to see my mother one last time, I finally compromised.

I sat paralyzed on the ground, looking pathetic.

Ignoring the blood flowing down my forehead, I faced those cold lenses.

Like a puppet, I trembled and said words that went against my heart:

"It was me... it was me lying. I was jealous of Olivia."

"The photos were Photoshopped. I fabricated the data. I am sorry to Olivia Ricci..."

Tears of humiliation mixed with blood flowed into my mouth.

In that moment, my dignity was trampled into the dirt.

Those self-righteous people smiled with satisfaction, as if they had won a war.

"Wouldn't it have been better if you did this earlier?"

"Seeing that your attitude in admitting mistakes isn't bad, we forgive you."

They got the video they wanted and dispersed contentedly.

As if they had just completed a heroic act of justice.

And I was finally able to continue rushing to the hospital.

But when I hurriedly arrived at Beth Israel Deaconess, it was too late.

My mother had already stopped breathing.

She lay in the hospital bed, her face pale, without a trace of blood.

The doctor took off his mask and sighed.

"I am sorry for your loss."

"The patient went into cardiac arrest half an hour ago. We did our best."

For a split second, I thought I was having a very long dream.

When I wake up, I will still be the little girl sleeping in my mother’s arms.

I haven't met Dante yet.

I haven't experienced these nightmares.

My mother is still alive and healthy, and we can still walk and chat by the Charles River.

But reality dealt me a fatal blow.

I chose the wrong man, and I didn't even get to see my mother one last time.