Chapter 2
"Dean Lane." Zoe's voice was quiet.
Dean froze. He wasn't used to hearing her call him by his full name.
"Let go of me," Zoe said.
Dean instinctively released her, then immediately said, "Zoe, we don't have much time. She's lost a lot of blood—"
"I know." Zoe cut him off and walked toward the bed.
She glanced at the ER report, then at the monitors.
Maya's blood pressure was dropping. Her heart rate was elevated. The amount of fluid in her abdominal cavity was increasing.
Her condition was indeed serious. But it wasn't beyond saving. They simply needed to operate as soon as possible.
"Dr. Winters…" Maya opened her eyes.
Her voice was weak and breathy, but her eyes were surprisingly clear.
There was even a hint of calculation in them.
Zoe hadn't noticed it in her previous life.
This time, she saw it perfectly.
"Dr. Winters, please." Maya reached out, trying to grab the hem of Zoe's coat. "Please save me. I don't want to die. You're the only one who can save me."
Tears slid down her cheeks.
She looked heartbreakingly vulnerable.
Zoe silently gave the performance a score.
Nine out of ten. She deducted one point because the tears were falling far too evenly. It was clearly professional acting rather than genuine fear.
People who were truly terrified didn't cry prettily. Their noses ran, their faces contorted, and tears and snot streamed down without any concern for appearances.
"Dr. Winters?" When Maya saw that Zoe still wasn't responding, her tears flowed even harder.
Her manager, a middle-aged man in gold-rimmed glasses, immediately stepped forward. "Dr. Winters, Ms. James is in critical condition.
"You're an expert in this field, so please arrange the surgery as soon as possible. And don't worry about the cost—"
"I have another surgery." Zoe's voice was flat, as if she were merely commenting on an extra dish being served in the cafeteria.
Everyone froze.
"What?" Maya's manager stared at her blankly.
Zoe placed the ER report back on the rack.
She turned toward Maya, her expression calm and professional. "Ms. James, I understand your condition.
"There's a high possibility that your spleen has ruptured, and you need surgery as soon as possible. However, I am currently responsible for another patient whose surgery is equally urgent.
"He's a seventy-two-year-old retired veteran. He's been waiting for his surgery for days, and we can't delay it any longer."
She paused. "I recommend contacting the thoracic surgery team at another major hospital, or having one of the other surgeons at this hospital take over. I can help coordinate the transfer."
With that, she picked up the surgical materials that belonged to her and turned to leave.
The hem of her white coat brushed past Maya's outstretched fingers. It remained perfectly clean.
"Wait!" Dean stepped forward and blocked the doorway.
His expression was grim, his jaw clenched tight. "Zoe Winters, what are you talking about?"
His voice was low, every word forced through clenched teeth. "She's in this condition, and you're telling me you're going to operate on someone else?"
"Yes." Zoe looked at him calmly. "That patient is a seventy-two-year-old veteran.
"His heart bypass surgery has already been postponed three times. He can't wait any longer in his condition."
"But—"
"Dean." Zoe cut him off. There was no anger in her voice. No hurt. Only a strange, unfathomable calm. "Her surgery is high-risk, but there are other surgeons who can operate on her.
"Graven City has plenty of excellent doctors at major hospitals. There's still time to transfer her.
"Meanwhile, that old man has already been made to wait three times."
She looked straight at Dean as she spoke, her gaze clear and unwavering.
Dean took half a step back. It was not because he was convinced, but because he saw something in her eyes that he had never seen before.
Coldness.
Not the coldness of someone throwing a tantrum. Not the silent treatment after a fight.
This was something absolute, a complete absence of emotion.
As if she wasn't looking at her husband at all.
As if he were a stranger.
"Move," Zoe said.
Dean remained rooted to the spot, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Zoe…"
"Move," Zoe repeated.
Her tone hadn't changed. Yet for some reason, Dean's body moved on its own and he stepped aside.
Zoe walked past him, the hem of her white coat carrying the faint scent of disinfectant.
She didn't look back.
Behind her, Maya's manager was shouting. Her assistant was crying. Dean remained where he was, his arms hanging at his sides, his hands curling into fists.
The moment Zoe stepped out of the ER, her footsteps paused.
She lowered her head and looked at the pools of fluorescent light scattered across the hallway floor. The corners of her lips curved into a faint smile.
In her previous life, they had destroyed her.
In this life, sorry. Her scalpel only saved those who deserved to be saved.