Chapter 3

I was flanked on both sides, shoved out my front door, and crammed into the backseat of an MPV. A burly thug sat on either side of me, pinning me in.

Blaire sat in the passenger seat, staring intently at her phone as she checked for updates from the hospital.

"Where's Dr. Aldridge?" she demanded. "Tell him to get the blood bags prepped. Is the anesthesiologist ready yet?"

The head nurse's voice trembled over the line. "Ms. Sutton, Dr. Aldridge said that without a lead surgeon, we can't prepare the blood bags, let alone administer anesthesia. It's against protocol."

"That's bullshit! Asher is already on his way. Tell them to get ready this instant!"

Blaire ended the call, spun around in her seat, and glared at me with pure venom. "Did you hear that? If you don't save Malcolm, your entire family is dead!"

I leaned back against the seat, watching the streetlights flash past the window.

Two years ago, Malcolm had a minor stomach bleed from heavy drinking and was whining about feeling dizzy in his VIP ward.

Blaire had gone straight to the blood bank and taken the last two bags of O-negative blood, the ones meant for Adriana after her car crash.

Adriana lay on the operating table, waiting for the blood bags to arrive as her heartbeat gradually weakened.

I had blocked Blaire in the hallway, my eyes bloodshot as I fought tooth and nail against her.

Blaire had simply leaned back in her plush leather chair, casually inspecting her manicure. "Malcolm's feeling dizzy. It's not like your sister is going to drop dead this very second. Can't she just wait a little?"

Wait?

Adriana couldn't wait.

Now, it was Malcolm's turn to wait.

The MPV raced through the storm. 15 minutes later, it screeched to a halt inside the emergency bay of Jorvia Hospital.

The two men hauled me out and marched me straight through the lobby of the emergency department and to the doors of the resuscitation bay.

The glass doors were tightly shut.

Spencer Aldridge stood right outside, drenched in sweat, holding up scans and arguing fiercely with a group of young doctors.

When Spencer saw me being dragged over, he froze. "Asher? What are you—"

Blaire pushed her way through the crowd and strode up to him. "He's here. Schedule the surgery now!"

Cole forced his way through the huddle. Seeing me held captive, his eyes instantly reddened. "What are you doing? This is kidnapping!"

He lunged forward to shove the men off me.

However, Blaire violently snatched Cole by the collar of his white coat.

"Dr. Barrett, you might want to open your eyes to the reality of the situation right now," she warned. "If you want to stick your neck out for him, I'll personally have you kicked out of this hospital tomorrow morning!"

Cole ground his teeth and glared at her.

Spencer stepped forward, his expression grim. "Ms. Sutton, Asher is currently suspended, and you're the one who reported him. He has no prescribing authority nor surgical privileges. If he operates, this entire department carries the liability!"

"I already told you my uncle will take sole personal liability for this!" Blaire screamed, jamming a finger directly at Spencer's nose.

"You've worked here long enough. Can't you tell what's important? If anything happens to Malcolm, you can kiss your position as department chief goodbye!"

Spencer trembled with rage, pointing a finger back at her, completely choked for words.

Just then, the resuscitation bay doors flew open.

A nurse, completely splattered in blood, sprinted out. "His blood pressure just plummeted to 60! The dissection is continuing to tear downward. The patient is in V-fib!"

The second she heard that, Margaret's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed unconscious onto the floor.

The lobby instantly erupted into chaos.

Blaire went deathly pale. She lunged forward and seized me by the collar, her fingernails digging deep enough to pierce the skin of my neck.

"Did you hear that? Go change right now! Go scrub in!" she shrieked.

I let her claw at me, keeping my eyes fixed calmly on the narrow crack in the resuscitation bay doors.

Five days ago, right here in this exact lobby, one of my patients, an old man with dilated cardiomyopathy, had gone into V-fib.

I was in the middle of resuscitating him when Blaire stormed in.

Because Malcolm had nicked his finger while peeling an apple, she had violently ripped the power cord of my defibrillator right out of the wall.

"He's just some old geezer," she had yelled at the time. "Malcolm is actually bleeding!"

The old man died right then and there.

But today, fate was playing the same joke on Malcolm.

"Asher!"

When she saw I wasn't moving, Blaire let go of my shirt, pulled a document out of her bag, and slapped it against my chest.

I looked down.

It was a notice from the hospital morgue stating that the storage lease for Adriana's cremated remains was expiring.

After Adriana passed, my parents couldn't take the devastating blow. One after the other, they passed away, too.

Left entirely alone, I had temporarily placed Adriana's ashes in the hospital's private repository, planning to hold onto them until I could afford a proper burial plot.

Since Blaire was in charge of administrative logistics, she withheld the notice.

"You're really not going to do it?" Blaire hissed, shoving the paper so close that it practically brushed my nose.

"The lease expires today. Did you honestly think your sister was safe just because you tucked her away in our private repository? Lest you forget, my department oversees this entire facility.

"All it takes is one word from me, and you won't be able to renew the lease. After that, your precious sister can go straight down the drain!"

The notice crumpled between her fingers.

"If you don't step into that resuscitation bay right now, I'll have someone throw that little bitch's urn into the medical waste bin right now and send it straight to the incinerator!"