Framed as a Quack: I Crushed My Hands in Rage

"How did Dr. Goodwin suddenly injure his hand?"

"Who knows? Maybe he's afraid that if the surgery fails tomorrow, he won't be able to save face as the newly promoted deputy director of the hospital."

I chose to ignore the gossip and speculation of my colleagues passing by.

Calmly, I continued walking toward Jamaal Monroe's office. He was the director.

My phone screen lit up with a message from Megan.

"Donovan, I'm leaving Pierre's surgery in your hands tomorrow. I trust you'll cure him. Love you, mwah."

It was the exact same message as in my previous life.

Back then, a simple "love you" from Megan would excite me. Now, nothing but a chill spread within me.

Mr. Monroe's face tightened into a deep frown as he looked at my bandaged right hand.

"How could you be so careless? Of all times to get injured, you choose now? I was counting on tomorrow morning's surgery to help you establish your authority within the hospital.

"You should know that there are still quite a few people opposed to you becoming the deputy director."

I looked down at my injured right hand.

After a moment of silence, I said slowly, "I apologize for letting you down, Mr. Monroe. You should ask Dr. Reese to take over the surgery tomorrow. His seniority and practical skills are among the best in the hospital, after all."

Mr. Monroe sighed again. "Well, it seems that's the only way. You should take some time off to rest properly."

I left the hospital and took a taxi to Mom's place.

As I watched the streets flash by outside the window, I felt a sense of calm I had never known before.

Everyone else thought I had missed a perfect opportunity to prove myself. Only I knew that the surgery tomorrow, which seemed like it would bring me endless glory, was actually part of a massive plot to bring me down.

Before I could even take out my keys, the front door swung open from inside. Mom stood there, her eyes red-rimmed and her face full of worry as she looked at my injured hand.

"Donovan, how's your hand?"

Seeing Mom standing there alive in front of me, I felt my nose start to sting. I couldn't help but wrap her in a tight hug.

"Mom, I missed you."

Mom was taken aback at first, then gently patted my back.

"Donovan, did something happen at the hospital? Listen to me, go ask Mr. Monroe for leave. Stay home and rest for a while. I don't expect you to achieve greatness—I just want you to be okay."

A tear slid from the corner of my eye. I wanted Mom to be okay, too.

Since I was given this second chance at life, I was determined to rewrite our fates.

After composing myself, I forced a casual tone and said, "Don't worry, Mom. Mr. Monroe has already approved a month's leave for me."