Chapter 3

The door of the emergency room swung open. Gretchen stormed in with a hardened expression. "Dustin Wright, you disgust me. I can't believe you'd stoop so low just to extort more money from me!"

I parted my lips, but I couldn't find my voice.

"Cancel the transfer," she ordered coldly. "Hold his hand down and force him to sign the confession!"

Dwight rushed forward, forcibly pried open my hand, and pressed my thumb onto the document.

"That's enough. Throw him out!" Gretchen pulled out a wet wipe and wiped her hands in disgust. "Don't dirty the hospital floor."

I was tossed out of the hospital entrance like a piece of trash. Without the 500 thousand dollars, my only option was to work at an illegal construction site.

I spent two whole days hauling bags of cement. Yet, when it came time to collect my pay, the foreman kicked me out the door. "Get lost! You're practically on your deathbed, and you still expect to get paid? Don't dirty our site!"

I fell into a mud pit, and I was too weak to even push myself back up.

Right then, a familiar Porsche pulled up to the curb. The car window rolled down, revealing Gretchen, who was wearing a pair of sunglasses. She gazed at me coldly.

Dwight sat in the passenger seat and cocked his brow. "Are you getting a taste of the real world, Dustin?"

Gretchen hurled 200-dollar bills at my face. "Dustin, you just love playing the victim, don't you? Take this and scram!"

I didn't pick them up. I used the wall to pull myself up and drag my battered body into the dark alley. My retreating figure was resolute, without a trace of hesitation or regret.

Gretchen watched me disappear into the distance and felt an inexplicable pang in her chest. She shook her head, suppressing that strange feeling.

"Ignore him, Greta. Let's go wine and dine!"

Gretchen started the engine, rattled and frustrated.

…

That night, the internet blew up as uncensored surveillance footage was anonymously uploaded online. The footage clearly showed that it was Dwight who had forcefully dragged a nurse along to film a short video, causing the patient to hemorrhage and miss the golden window for resuscitation.

The topic "Privileged Intern Shows Utter Disregard for Human Life" rocketed to the top of the trending list.

Dwight panicked. He immediately posted a lengthy statement on social media, sniveling and saying that I, the lead surgeon, had framed him. He claimed I was jealous of him and had deliberately sabotaged the medical equipment.

He even pretended he was going to turn himself in to the cops. "I can't drag you down with me, Greta. I'll just go to prison."

Gretchen's heart went out to him. She immediately mobilized all her public relations resources to forcefully suppress the trending topic.

Then, she dialed my number, intending to demand an explanation for why I had been scheming against her behind her back. "The number you have dialed is no longer in service." Gretchen froze.

She sped straight to my rented room, only to find it completely deserted. "Very well, Dustin Wright!" she gritted out. "Do you think you'll be fine just because you hid away?"

Gretchen logged into the hospital's official account and, identifying herself as my wife, posted a statement along with a photograph of that confession bearing my bloody fingerprint.

"All medical malpractice was caused solely by former lead surgeon Dustin Wright's illegal operations. Dustin has a long-standing grudge against Dr. Reed. He maliciously edited the footage to frame him. I have chosen to uphold justice even against my own family and have reported him to the cops."

The moment her statement was released, the entire internet launched a manhunt for me, the "doctor who killed his patient".

…

One day, after work, Gretchen had just pulled open her car door when a patient's family member raised a brick and hurled it at her. Dwight was so terrified that he ducked behind her, whereas she squeezed her eyes shut.

The expected blow never landed because a security guard had blocked it. Gretchen opened her eyes and stared at the empty space beside her. All of a sudden, she fell into a daze.

In the past, whenever something like this happened, I would always rush out, shielding her tightly in my arms.

Even when I was left bruised and bleeding from the blow to my head, I would still smile and comfort her, saying, "Don't be afraid."

The stark contrast made her chest feel stuffy.