Chapter 1
In my previous life, the movie star Maya James got into a car accident.
My husband rushed her into the ER in his arms and begged me to operate on her.
I did.
The surgery was a success, and she made a full recovery.
Her way of thanking me? She unleashed her fans on me, destroyed my career, and got me disowned by my own family.
Suffering from depression, I eventually slit my wrists and died alone in my rented apartment.
Meanwhile, she stood on my grave and married my husband in a lavish ceremony.
Then I returned to the past.
On that very day, Maya was lying in front of me again, covered in blood, her eyes pleading.
I simply smiled and pointed toward the operating room next door. "Sorry. I have another surgery waiting for me.
"You'll have to find someone else."
*****
The fluorescent lights in the ER buzzed overhead.
The sharp smell of disinfectant mixed with the metallic stench of blood, pounding against Zoe Winters's temples.
She stood in the hallway, clutching a medical chart, her fingertips turning white.
She was dazed.
No, not exactly. She was trying to process a fact.
Three seconds ago, she had been lying on the cold floor of her apartment, blood pouring from the wound on her wrist as her consciousness shattered like broken glass.
Depression had tormented her for two years.
She had lost her job, been disowned by her family, and been relentlessly harassed online until she was too afraid to leave her apartment.
Then her ex-husband, Dean Lane, sent her an invitation to the wedding of him and the famous actress Maya. There had even been a photo of them tucked inside the envelope, both of them smiling brightly.
That had been the final straw.
And then she woke up in this hallway.
She was wearing a white coat, name badge, and a stethoscope.
The date on the chart in her hand read September 17, 2024.
Zoe's pupils contracted sharply.
She remembered this date perfectly.
Because this was the day she had saved someone she never should have saved.
"Dr. Winters!" Grace Hart, a nurse, came jogging down the hallway, her ponytail bouncing behind her. "We just got a critical trauma patient in the ER.
"She was in a car accident and has multiple fractures and internal bleeding. It's really serious."
Zoe didn't move.
Her gaze dropped to the name on the chart. It read: [Zoe Winters, Attending Thoracic Surgeon.]
It had been the same time in her previous life. Grace had come running to tell her the same thing.
And back then, Zoe had rushed to the ER, only to find Maya covered in blood, with Dean standing beside her, his eyes red as he refused to let go of her.
Her husband was holding another woman.
"Dr. Winters?" Grace moved closer. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."
Zoe took a deep breath.
The smell of disinfectant filled her lungs, sharp enough to jolt her fully awake.
It was real.
The smell. The sensation. The buzzing fluorescent lights overhead. Everything was real.
She had returned to the past, to the start of her nightmare.
"What's the patient's condition?" Zoe asked. Her voice was calmer than she expected.
Grace answered, "Female, twenty-seven. Multiple rib fractures from a car accident, suspected ruptured spleen, massive internal bleeding. She was already showing signs of shock when she arrived."
Grace handed her the ER report. "And…"
She lowered her voice, her expression suddenly turning complicated. "She was brought in by your husband, Mr. Lane."
Zoe's fingers paused.
In her previous life, hearing those words had felt like someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart.
This time, thankfully, all she felt was disgust.
"Who is the patient?" Zoe asked.
Of course she knew, but she wanted to hear it anyway.
"Maya James." Grace's voice took on an unmistakably gossipy edge. "The actress. You know, the one who just won the Golden Falcon Award.
"And…" Grace lowered her voice again. "She specifically asked for you to perform the surgery."
Zoe said nothing.
She turned and headed toward the ER.
Her pace was neither hurried nor slow, the hem of her white coat swaying lightly behind her.
At the end of the hallway, chaos erupted. Maya's manager was shouting into his phone. Her assistant was crying. Someone was yelling, "Make way. Make way!"
Zoe pushed open the ER doors. The first person she saw was the woman on the hospital bed.
Maya.
There were several scrapes on her face, and her makeup was smeared. Yet even covered in blood, her features remained almost unnaturally flawless.
She was half-reclined on the bed, an oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth. Her eyes were half closed, and one hand was gripping the edge of the bed so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
Beside him stood a man whose suit was stained with blood. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and his tie hung loose around his neck.
It was Dean.
He was six feet one, broad-shouldered with a lean waist, his sharp cheekbones and hard features usually giving him an intimidating air. His face was filled with panic and urgency.
He turned. The moment he saw Zoe, he rushed over. "Zoe!"
He grabbed her arm, his grip so tight she could feel the pressure against her bones.
He said, "Maya was in a car accident. Her condition is critical. Her spleen might have ruptured. You need to take a look at her."
Zoe lowered her eyes to the fingers digging into her arm.
His knuckles were white.
He was gripping her hard.
In her previous life, her mind had been filled with questions at this moment.
Why were you with her? Why were you covered in her blood? What was going on between you two?
She had eventually gotten all the answers.
And the answer was simple.
They were having an affair all along.
She had simply been the fool kept in the dark.