Chapter 2

I sat in the driver's seat, my heart hammering against my ribs, threatening to burst from my chest.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated. Marcus’s name flashed across the screen.

“Eliza, where are you?”

“The patient is about to deliver, and the family specifically asked for you, saying they came for your reputation.”

“Pre-op preparations are all done, just waiting for you to get on stage!”

His voice was hurried, completely unlike the usually calm and elegant top surgeon.

I knew why. At this point in the original timeline, the patient was already dead.

Dead by the hands of his beloved Sophia, and he was rushing me there to take the blame.

“On the road, traffic.”

My voice was so calm it sounded unfamiliar even to myself.

“Hurry up and get here!”

“At this crucial point, as soon as this surgery is done, your Deputy Director nomination is secure.”

“Then, my parents won’t object to us getting married anymore. Hurry, you need to be fast!”

He lowered his voice, as if offering a bribe.

In my previous life, I was deceived by those very words, rushing into the operating room like an idiot, and then falling headfirst into the trap he’d dug for me.

I hung up and checked the time, 9:26 PM.

Twenty-six minutes remained until the fateful surgery of my past life.

I sat in the driver's seat, my fingers trembling uncontrollably.

The scenes from my death in the previous life replayed in my mind.

The needle piercing my vein.

My parents plummeting from the rooftop.

Marcus accusing me in court, saying I was frantic for surgeries to get a promotion.

If I stepped into that operating room before 9:52 PM, all the evidence would condemn me.

No! Not this time. I absolutely would not repeat the same mistakes.

But what could I do now?

I couldn't go to the hospital.

I couldn't enter that operating room.

I couldn’t touch that surgery.

Because they had meticulously planned every step.

The moment I arrived, I would walk right into their trap.

The evidence would automatically converge, leaving me no room to fight back.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

I needed an airtight alibi at 9:52 PM.

What kind of alibi would be ironclad? One that could prevent their false accusations? One that would turn all his arrangements into a joke?

I looked up and saw traffic officers directing cars at the intersection ahead.

Suddenly, an idea formed in my mind.

I would injure myself.

I would be sent to the emergency room.

I would be lying on someone else's operating table.

Only then, at 9:52 PM, would I be fully documented in the ER by doctors, nurses, and surveillance, instead of being framed in the operating room.

One arm, for one life – this was the only way out.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I gritted my teeth and violently slammed my right arm into the steering wheel.