Reborn Surgeon: I Won’t Be Their Scapegoat

Synopsis

I was on my way home from a night shift when my wife, Vanessa, called. "Ethan, Michael Hayes is in the Neuro ER. CTA shows a ruptured aneurysm. You're the only attending who can take this tonight. Get back here. Anesthesia is already prepping." In my past life, I rushed straight back to Chicago St. Mary's Medical Center. But by the time I reached the neurosurgery suite, Michael was already dead on the table. Vanessa had slapped me hard across the face right in front of the grieving family. She threw a pre-prepared operative report at my chest, sharply accusing me of a fatal surgical error. The family's grief ignited into pure rage. Before I could even open my mouth to explain, they swarmed me. Three days later, I was ambushed outside the trauma center by a mob of grief-stricken family members. I bled out on the pavement. It was only after my death that I learned the truth. Vanessa, acting as Clinical Supervisor, had broken protocol and let a neurosurgery resident, Tyler Grant, practice on Michael. The patient died on the table. To dodge the fallout, they framed me. Before my official cause of death was even released, they were already sleeping in the bed I paid for. They spun their relationship into something bulletproof, at least in the eyes of the hospital. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the night of Vanessa's phone call. "Pre-op is done. Hurry up," her voice pressed through the speaker. My throat was bone-dry, but my voice came out dead calm. "I'm on my way." I hung up and looked at the concrete landscaping barrier up ahead. I yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. The front of the car slammed into the wall.