Chapter 1

My boyfriend's first love was a doctor.

To build up her reputation as a miracle doctor, Irene Willis went to great lengths.

When I had surgery for an ovarian cyst, she couldn't help but frown and say, "Your uterine wall is really thin—looks like you've had quite a few procedures, huh?

"You should really value yourself more as a woman. Having too many abortions isn't good for your health."

Her seemingly gentle and caring words were secretly recorded and posted online by someone.

Everyone showered Irene with praise while dragging me for being sluty.

She got to be everyone's heroine in a white coat, while the internet branded me a whore.

I wanted Irene to clear things up for me, but all she did was hand me some meds for a gynecological issue and told me to take them on time.

Even my boyfriend took her side, throwing it in my face. "If I'd known you were this dirty, I never would've dated you."

My boyfriend left me, and the internet trolls never let up—they harassed me day and night.

In the end, I jumped off the rooftop.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day I was about to have surgery for my ovarian cyst.

"So, I'll be doing your surgery," Irene said.

"Dr. Willis is a miracle worker—having her operate on you is honestly beneath her skill. You should remember this for the rest of your life," my boyfriend gushed.

I blinked groggily awake, only to realize that gentle, soothing voice came from Irene—and the one hyping her up was none other than my boyfriend, Del Terry.

Throbbing pain shot through my head, making cold sweat stream down my forehead.

Without thinking, I shivered and pinched myself hard under the blanket, just to double-check if I'd really come back.

I'd been brought back—before all the slander started.

Everything that happened in that operating room in my past life kept playing in my head—I couldn't shake it off.

I'd been diagnosed with an ovarian cyst and wanted a minimally invasive surgery, but my boyfriend went behind my back and switched it to an open surgery, just so Irene could show off her skills on me.

I had no idea what was coming when I was wheeled into the operating room. Turned out, Irene wanted to keep up her miracle doctor image, so after the surgery, she actually frowned and said, "Your uterine wall is really thin—looks like you've had more than a few abortions, huh?"

I was about to deny it, but she immediately cut me off. "Girls should really learn to love themselves. Too many abortions will ruin your health."

Her voice was soft and caring, but I still managed to say, "I've never had an abortion."

She stared at me like I was just a rebellious teenager making excuses.

"I'm a genius doctor—I can't be wrong!" she insisted.

She even went and told my boyfriend about it.

Instead of caring, Del shot me a look of contempt, accusing me of being overdramatic and saying I didn't know how good I had it.

He didn't even bother to stay with me—he just dumped me at the hospital, barely out of surgery.

Back then, I even apologized to my boyfriend—never knowing someone had caught Irene's words on tape, edited out everything I said, and blasted it all over the internet.

When I was finally discharged, she came by for rounds and—on purpose—announced to the whole room that I'd had abortions, even making sure I heard all about that viral audio everyone was gossiping about.

She put on her most innocent face and apologized in front of everyone, acting like she was just speaking the truth and pretending she didn't have a clue who posted it online.

I clicked on the trending post and, turned out, I'd been labeled a whore before I even knew it—while Irene was suddenly worshiped as the angel in scrubs.

I snapped, pointing right at her and shouting every insult in the book. I was completely losing it.

My boyfriend strolled in late, of course siding with her. "You whore, what gives you the right to run your mouth about a saint doctor?"

I was left frozen in shock, and right then, the police burst in, accusing me of soliciting sex and saying I was under arrest.

Soon after, my mom's credentials as an award-winning teacher were dug up and trashed online—they claimed she should've never been allowed near a classroom and even called her a brothel keeper.

My dad, who died a hero fighting a fire, was mocked for his sacrifice—people said he deserved to die just for raising a filthy daughter like me.

On top of it all, the rumor mill went wild, insisting I'd slept my way up the corporate ladder. Self-proclaimed "clients" crawled out from nowhere, talking smack about me.

Falling apart, I got fired from my job.