Chapter 1

During a surgery, I, the anesthesiologist, was suddenly struck by severe chest pain and collapsed to the floor.

My husband, Randy Miller, the lead surgeon, didn't even bother to look up.

He coldly rebuked me, "Zola, we're in the middle of surgery. Could you not choose a better moment to pretend you're sick?

"Callie just returned and started working here. Is this really necessary? Are you trying to assert your dominance in front of everyone?"

I curled up in agony, desperately wishing he would come to my rescue.

But instead, he told the nurse to take me out so he could focus on stitching the patient.

So, I died all alone in the hallway outside the operating room.

As my soul floated above, I saw Randy finish the surgery, walk out, and nudge my corpse with his foot.

Randy said, "Quit faking it. Get up. We've got Callie's welcome dinner tonight."

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to right before I stepped into the operating room.

Pressing a hand to my chest, I asked Randy, "If I died on the table today, what would you do?"

He fiddled with his mask, clearly annoyed. "That'd be on you."

*****

Randy's voice was icy cold.

The crushing pain in my chest struck again.

I got a second chance in life.

I was back to ten minutes before my heart gave out.

I took a breath to collect myself and then peeled off my gloves.

There was a sharp snap.

I tossed the gloves into the medical waste bin.

Randy was scrubbing up when he heard the sound, his face darkening as he shot me a sharp look.

He snapped, "Zola, what crazy stunt are you pulling now?

"The patient's about to go under. Why are you taking your gloves off right now?"

Callie stood nearby in slightly oversized scrubs, looking vulnerable and helpless.

She said, "Zola, was I too blunt? Did I upset you?

"If so, I'm sorry. But please, don't risk the patient's life."

Her eyes were a little red, as if she'd been seriously wronged.

Randy shot me a look of pure disgust. "Apologize to Callie.

"Now. Right this second."

In the past, with tears in my eyes, I would've tried to explain myself and pushed through the pain, forcing myself to keep working.

But now, staring at the man I'd loved for ten years, I felt sick to my stomach.

I ripped off my mask, revealing my ghostly pale face to everyone.

I said, "Randy, since your darling Callie is so capable, why don't you let her take over the surgery?"

Randy froze, caught off guard.

Everyone in the OR stopped, shocked.

I was the top anesthesiologist in the hospital, and Randy always relied on me.

Without me, his surgeries got a whole lot riskier, at least thirty percent more.

"Are you out of your mind?" Randy growled, his voice low and threatening.

He added coldly, "Callie just got back. She still needs time to settle in. How can you walk out now?"

I pressed a hand to my chest and let out a sarcastic laugh. "Isn't she supposed to be some top expert from abroad?

"She can't even handle a basic anesthesia. Dr. Miller, aren't you giving her way too much special treatment?"

Callie's face kept changing, like she couldn't decide how to feel.

Randy's eyes were blazing with anger.

He sneered, "So you've got some nerve, Zola.

"If you walk out that door today, don't even think about coming back to my OR!"

I turned, took off my hospital badge, and left it hanging on the doorknob.

"Gladly," I shot back.

With Randy staring at me in shock, I pushed open the OR doors and strode out without a backward glance.

Behind me, his desperate shout echoed down the hallway.

"Zola! Get back here!" Randy yelled.

All he got in response was the dull thud of the doors swinging shut and the unwavering way I walked away, leaving him behind for good.

The moment I walked out of the OR, my whole body was trembling.

It wasn't fear that made me shake. It was pure pain.

The pain felt like a massive fist squeezing my heart, almost knocking me off my feet.

I braced myself against the wall, inching toward the locker room, barely making it with each step.

Last time around, I forced myself to swallow painkillers and step into the OR so Randy wouldn't be disappointed in me.

But all I got for it was his cold stare and ridicule.

This time, I just wanted to live.

My hands trembled as I rummaged through my locker, finally pulling out the pills and slipping one under my tongue.

As the medication began to take effect, that suffocating, near-death sensation finally started to fade.

My phone buzzed.

It was a message from Randy.

He sent a few cold, harsh words. [Get your ass back here. Don't make me come after you.]

Then came a photo.

In the photo, Callie was frantically messing with the anesthesia machine, looking teary-eyed and lost.

I looked at the screen and couldn't help but scoff. What a joke it was.

He never gave a damn about the patient's safety. All he ever cared about was whether his darling Callie might get tired.

I shut off my phone without a second thought and changed out of my scrubs.

As soon as I stepped out of the locker room, I ran right into Kevin McClain, the hospital director.

"Zola? The surgery has just started. Why are you out already?" Kevin asked, his face full of surprise.

I forced a weak smile. "Mr. McClain, I'm not feeling well. Acute angina. I'm requesting medical leave."

Kevin jumped, rushing over to steady me.