Chapter 3
In Operating Room 73, the surgical lights overhead blazed like miniature suns.
Zoe pulled on her gloves and stepped up to the operating table, her hands steady.
The elderly man on the operating table was Henry Stone, seventy-two, a retired veteran undergoing coronary artery bypass surgery.
There was nothing glamorous about this operation.
No manager stood anxiously outside the doors. No reporters waited for updates.
Even the family waiting area had only one person in it: a young woman in her early twenties, Henry's granddaughter.
She sat on a plastic chair, clutching a faded military medal so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
Zoe had reviewed Henry's medical records before the operation.
He had received two third-class military merits, participated in disaster relief operations.
An old injury had left his left leg permanently damaged, causing him to limp when he walked.
This surgery had already been postponed three times.
The first time, the hospital had to respond to a major emergency, and there weren't enough operating rooms available.
The second time, Henry had stubbornly insisted that he "didn't want to waste the country's money." He'd discharged himself against medical advice, only to be rushed back to the hospital by ambulance two weeks later.
The third time, he'd finally been scheduled for surgery. But then a high-profile patient deemed "more urgent" had been moved ahead of him.
Zoe hadn't said a word back then.
This time, she wasn't giving up her spot.
"Are the instruments ready?" she asked.
"Everything's ready." Grace handed her the hemostat.
Zoe nodded.
The surgery began.
Zoe's movements were clean and precise. Every incision was made at exactly the right angle, carefully avoiding blood vessels and nerves with a precision that seemed almost measured with a ruler.
Three hours later, the final stitch was tied. The waveforms on the monitor continued to rise and fall steadily.
"Surgery's a success." Zoe removed her mask and let out a long breath.
Beside her, Grace wiped the sweat from her forehead and couldn't help muttering, "Zoe, you're on fire today. You completed the vascular anastomosis a third faster than last time."
Zoe said nothing.
In her previous life, during the period before she lost her job, she had practically lived in the operating room.
It wasn't so much dedication as it was escape.
She couldn't go home. Every time she opened social media, she was bombarded with hateful comments. The operating table was the only place where she could still feel that she had some value.
Two years of intensive training, combined with the several difficult surgeries she'd independently performed before being fired, had all come back to her.
Her skills. Her experience. Her memories. She was far stronger now than she'd been in her previous life.
When Zoe pushed open the operating room doors, she nearly ran into someone in the hallway.
Henry's granddaughter shot to her feet, her eyes red from crying. "Dr. Winters, Grandpa…"
Zoe said, "The surgery went very well. He's in the recovery room under observation, and his condition is stable."
Tears immediately streamed down the young woman's face. Still clutching the military medal, she bowed deeply. "Thank you, Dr. Winters. Thank you so much!"
Zoe reached out and steadied her by the shoulders. "You don't have to thank me.
"Your grandfather risked his life for his country. He shouldn't have had to wait this long for his surgery in the first place."
The young woman cried even harder, nodding repeatedly.
Zoe gently patted her back before turning toward the restroom to change.
She had barely turned the corner when a voice exploded from the other end of the hallway. "Zoe!"
Zoe didn't stop walking.
Dean strode toward her, his face dark with anger. The bloodstains on his suit had already dried, the dark patches standing out beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.
"You're done?" he asked, barely containing his temper.
"Yes."
"The surgery for Henry, the old man?"
"Yes."
Dean's chest rose and fell twice.
He said, "Maya's still in the ER. Her blood pressure keeps dropping. It'll take at least forty minutes to transfer her to another hospital. Zoe, can you go and—"
"I already told you to find someone else." Zoe cut him off and pushed open the door to the break room.
Dean followed her inside.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" His voice rose. "You're a doctor too. You know what condition she's in—"
"Of course I know." Zoe turned around and looked at him. "Her spleen has ruptured, and she's experiencing ongoing internal bleeding.
"If she isn't treated soon, she'll go into hemorrhagic shock. In this situation, the best option is immediate surgery. But I'm not the only doctor who can perform it."
Her tone was as detached as if she were reciting a medical formula.
She said, "Dr. Leonard Clark at Riverfield Medical Center specializes in this type of surgery. It's a twenty-minute drive. You've contacted him already, haven't you?"
Dean paused.
He had.
Maya's manager had started making calls within ten seconds of Zoe refusing to operate.
But the answer was that Leonard was currently out of town. The earliest he could return was three hours.
There wasn't enough time.
As for the thoracic surgeons at this hospital who could perform the procedure, some were already in other operating rooms, while others simply didn't have enough experience.
A ruptured spleen complicated by multiple rib fractures was an extremely high-risk procedure. No one was willing to take it on lightly.
The most qualified person available was Zoe.
Dean knew it. Zoe knew it too.
"I can't do it," Zoe said.
It wasn't that she couldn't, but she wouldn't.
"You can't do it?" Dean's voice dropped, taking on an unmistakably intimidating edge. "You don't want to do it."
Zoe looked at him.
The first time she'd heard him speak to her in that tone in her previous life, she'd been startled. Then she'd immediately backed down.
But now, she only found it amusing.
What right did a man who was involved with another woman have to speak to his wife like that?
She asked, "Dean, what's your relationship with Maya?"
The question came without warning, as casually as if she'd asked what the weather was like.
Dean's pupils contracted.
It was subtle, but Zoe caught it.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Why were you with her tonight?" Zoe leaned against the desk, folding her arms across her chest. "She's a famous actress.
"She gets into a car accident in the middle of the night, and the first person at the scene isn't her driver, her manager, or the police. It's you.
"You carried her out of the car. You were covered in her blood. Then you drove her straight to the hospital where I work."
She tilted her head. "Isn't that a little too coincidental?"
Dean swallowed. "I happened to be passing by. I saw the accident and stopped. Anyone would have done the same thing—"
"Your company is in the south of the city. Our home is in the south too. The accident happened on Union Road in the north.
"You were on Union Road in the middle of the night, and you just happened to see the accident," Zoe said, her voice light and airy.
"Did you get lost?" she asked.
Dean's lips pressed into a thin line.
He didn't answer.
The silence between them spread like disinfectant, colorless, odorless, but it stung the eyes.
"Zoe, what are you trying to say?" Dean finally spoke, his voice low, as if afraid someone in the hallway might overhear.
Zoe looked into his eyes.
In her previous life, she'd seen all sorts of things reflected there. Gentleness, adoration, half-heartedness, and coldness.
But there was one thing she never found.
Guilt.
Even when she was sprawled out on the floor of her rented apartment, on the verge of death, he never came.
So what was there left to miss?
"I've got nothing to say," Zoe said, straightening up and pulling open the lounge door. "Go stay with your... friend."
Zoe lingered on the word "friend" for a moment.
It was a split second, but Dean caught the shade in her tone.
He stood there, his fingers clenching and unclenching, his jawline so tight it looked like it might snap.
Zoe didn't look at him again.
She walked out of the lounge and called down the hallway, "Grace!"
Grace poked her head out from the nurse's station. "Zoe?"
"Keep an eye on Henry's post-op data for me. If anything looks off, let me know right away."
"Got it!"
Zoe headed for the on-call room.
Behind her, she heard Dean's footsteps, but he didn't follow. Instead, he went the other way, toward the ER.
Zoe's lips curved into a faint smile.
Go on.
Go chase after your famous and beautiful actress.
This time, you won't be able to save her life, and you won't be able to save yourself from embarrassment too.
As Zoe reached the door to the on-call room, her phone started ringing.
The screen lit up with the name. It was from Dean's mother, Helen Lane.
She let it ring for a couple seconds, then rejected the call.
After that, she placed her phone face down on the table.
In her previous life, she'd picked up that call.
Helen talked down to her, saying "I heard a patient specifically asked for you to do the surgery? You're the Lane family's daughter-in-law and you represent the Lane family's reputation.
"Make sure you do your job right, and don't give outsiders anything to gossip about."
So Zoe went and did it.
Afterward, she got trashed online and lost her job.
Then, Helen said, "You only have yourself to blame for your lousy skills. The Lane family can't afford embarrassment like this."
After that, Zoe got kicked out of the family.
Zoe gave a cold laugh.
She lay on the small bed in the on-call room, her hands behind her head, staring up at the ceiling.
She was getting a second chance at life.
This time, she wasn't going to spare anyone's pride.