Chapter 1

The mayor's father suddenly suffered a coronary artery disease attack, and I was ready to perform the bypass surgery.

My husband, who claimed to be the top thoracic surgeon, suddenly called a halt.

He insisted that his first crush, the specialist who had just returned from Dorinken with supreme skills, should attempt a heart stent procedure instead.

In my previous life, that was exactly what happened. The stent surgery was completely useless.

That so-called expert, as if she'd never done surgery before, kept failing to place the stent properly and ended up puncturing the pericardium, causing the heart to go into spasm.

I decisively took over, removed the stent, opened the chest, and saved the patient from the brink of death. His first crush fainted on the spot at the sight of the blood spraying everywhere, became the talk of the hospital, and eventually committed suicide by jumping off a building.

My husband didn't say a single word to defend me. Instead, he sent me to operate on the mafia boss who had been stabbed.

Halfway through the surgery, he told the mafia henchmen waiting outside, "The doctor inside is trying to kill your boss. There's blood everywhere."

Ignoring the warnings, the henchmen smashed open the OR door, grabbed surgical knives, and stabbed me multiple times. I gradually lost consciousness.

In that blurry state, I saw him sneer at me.

He said, "This is what you get for showing off. You just had to humiliate Yvette and steal her thunder, didn't you?

"You saved the patient, huh? You wanted all the glory? Let's see how proud you are now."

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the operating table. We were preparing to do the bypass surgery.

I loosened my grip on the scalpel. This time, I was going to watch how they managed to pull off this surgery.

*****

"The heart rate keeps dropping. Coronary artery blockage is over 90%. We have to crack open the chest and do a bypass now," a voice sounded.

The deputy director, Dominic Loxwood, yelled for the fifth time, his voice nearly drowned out by the piercing alarm from the monitor that felt like it could split everyone's eardrums.

But all he got was my husband Yael Starling's voice blasting through the speakerphone, not holding back at all. "Let me repeat myself. You're just the assistant.

"Who gave you the guts to make decisions on your own? Everything goes by my orders, understand?

"Yvette is the expert who just came back from Dorinken. Her interventional plan is cutting-edge. None of you relics know a thing."

Dominic was so furious that his face was practically glowing red.

He stood right next to the patient, seeing everything crystal clear. "Yvette's guidewire has almost poked a hole through the patient's blood vessel.

"Does she even know what she's doing? If this keeps up and something goes wrong, can you even handle the fallout?"

Yael didn't hesitate for a second. He snapped over the phone, "Get him out of the operating room. I'm the department head here. My word is law."

Then he suddenly threw the question at me. "Vanessa, what do you think?"

I let go of the scalpel, kept my cool, and said, "Dr. Starling, I'll do as you say."

There was a brief pause on the other end, but Yael jumped right back in. "Did you hear that?

"See how Vanessa does it? That's what professionalism looks like. Everyone, listen up. No one moves a muscle until I say so. If I don't give the word, you all stay put."

I watched Yvette Draycott, the so-called expert, under the harsh glare of the surgical lights.

She was drenched in sweat, breathing hard, and her hand clutching the guidewire was shaking so badly she looked ready to crack.

She kept mumbling under her breath, like she was trying to memorize the manual, completely missing that the patient was crashing.

So this was the top talent Yael was so desperate to protect?

The patient on the table was Mayor Blake Thornfield's father.

But Yael insisted on letting a rookie who couldn't even hold a guidewire steady take the lead, gambling the entire department's future on her.

In my previous life, I was too impatient. Seeing the patient was about to die, I shoved her aside, cracked open his chest, and did the bypass myself, dragging him back from the edge.

Everyone in the department watched Yvette's clumsy act unfold.

After that, she became the hospital's running joke. Whenever someone saw her, they'd snicker, "Well, look at the expert who's back from Dorinken."

She messed around with a patient's life and only got laughed at. Honestly, her coworkers were going easy on her.

She couldn't take all the rumors and snide remarks, and in the end, she ended up throwing herself off the hospital roof.

As for me, since I'd saved the patient, I was about to get fast-tracked for promotion to assistant director.

But Yael didn't get me a promotion. Instead, he sent me off to operate on a Mafia boss who'd been stabbed and needed emergency surgery.

Right as I was putting in the final stitch, he went and told the goons waiting outside that I was out to murder their boss.

Those thugs burst in, and I got stabbed to death right on the operating table.

The last thing I saw before I died was Yael standing across the room, quietly muttering, "Yvette, I got revenge for you."

He was obviously standing up for his beloved first crush, Yvette.

This time around, I wasn't going to make the same mistakes again.

I would like to see how they plan to clean up this mess without me.

On the monitor, the patient's blood pressure was still dropping.

Everyone in the operating room was holding their breath, except for Yvette, who stood at the operating table, visibly irritated. "Ugh, why are these vessels so deformed? Just my luck.

"And this old guy's vessel walls are so thin that they're about to pop if I even touch them."

Her grumbling echoed in everyone's earpieces.

Everyone couldn't help but wonder if she was really an expert.

"Can she even manage this? She can't get the guidewire in, and she's blaming the patient?"

"If every patient's vessels were as perfect as the textbook, what would we need doctors for? Is she crazy or what?"

"Damn it. We're all freaking out here, and she's still shifting the blame? Dr. Starling, just get her off the table already."

Of course, Yvette heard every word.

With me watching, she actually started complaining in a whiny voice, acting all aggrieved right in front of everyone. "Yael, they're all bullying me. I'm not doing this anymore."

As she kept talking, her voice started to wobble, like she was about to cry.

Everyone in the operating room just froze.

Someone couldn't hold back and snapped, "Seriously? This is an OR, not your daycare. Who do you think you're fooling with this drama?"

A couple of the younger doctors started going off on her.

Yvette had had enough. She slammed the guidewire down and spun around to leave.

"Open the door. Let me out. I quit," she yelled, banging on the door.

"Don't let her leave. The stent's still in the vessel. If it blocks the artery, it's game over for the patient," someone shouted.

The nurse at the door stepped in, blocking her escape.

"What's all this racket? Everyone, clear the way. Let her out. And if anyone talks back again, you're out too. You follow my orders, no exceptions," Yael barked over the speaker.

Yvette actually let out a laugh right there at the operating table. "Yael's always got my back."

Even the anesthesiologist snorted in disbelief. "Wow, so the OR's just your personal rom-com set now? What? You think the rest of us are just props?"

Then Yael snapped, "Vanessa, you take over for Yvette and fix this mess."

"Seriously? Now Vanessa has to deal with this disaster. If the patient dies, who's gonna take the fall for it?" someone shot back.

Just then, everyone got the warning. The patient's blood pressure was still dropping, heart rate below 40, and cardiac arrest could happen any second.

Everyone in the OR felt like their hearts were in their throats.

If the patient went into ventricular fibrillation now, not even a miracle could save them.

Without hesitating, I stepped up and grabbed the guidewire. The image flashed onto the big screen, and everyone in the room sucked in a sharp breath.

The lead assistant, an old hand, straightened up in a panic. "Crap, the stent's slipped clean off the guidewire and is blocking the renal artery. This is seriously bad."

Caleb Calderon, the second assistant, stared at the screen, frowning hard. "That spot's a nightmare. There's no way we can get it out now."

Everyone looked at me. I grabbed a balloon catheter, slid it down the guidewire, and crushed the stent flat.

While the room erupted in cheers, I snapped out orders, "You, an intern, right? Stitch up the wound. The rest of you, get ready to crack open the chest with me. We need to win back every second."