Chapter 2

At 1:12 a.m., Helen called me.

Her voice was trembling uncontrollably.

"Dr. Caldwell, something went wrong with Daniel Morris."

I was sitting in the ER observation unit at Lakebridge General, an IV taped to the back of my hand. I went rigid.

"They took him into surgery?"

"Yes."

Helen sounded close to tears.

"I told the unit to hold off, just like you said. But then the orders were changed. Elise said Medical Affairs had cleared it. She said Daniel was part of the pilot program and the surgery had to go ahead tonight."

I closed my eyes.

Elise Parker.

She was one of the younger doctors in our division, two years behind me in training.

Whenever she saw me, she was all smiles, always offering to get me coffee or help with whatever I needed. Sweet and harmless, like she wouldn't hurt a fly.

But she'd had her eye on the hospital's minimally invasive same-day surgery pilot program for months.

One successful case would earn her a chance to present at the hospital's weekly clinical conference, outshine me, and give her a shot at the department's nomination for next year's research grant.

The problem was, she wasn't ready.

Dr. Brown had never approved her to handle a high-risk case as the primary surgeon.

"How is Daniel now?"

Helen choked back a sob.

"Massive bleeding during surgery. Dr. Brown is in there with them now."

Chaos erupted on the other end of the call.

Someone shouted to get blood ready.

Someone else called for vasopressors.

Another voice yelled for someone to contact the family.

At 2:03 a.m., Helen texted me again.

Helen: [We couldn't save him.]

I stared at the message, my stomach twisting.

Death wasn't new to me.

Surgeons saw more blood and regret than most people ever would.

But Daniel could have waited for further evaluation. Instead, he had died in an after-hours surgery that never should have gone forward.

This wasn't an accident.

It was a grab for credit and calculated scheming.

Grant's message came in at 2:10 a.m.

Grant: [Are you still at Lakebridge General?]

I stared at the screen and let out a bitter laugh.

He wasn't worried about me.

He was checking whether I'd left him an opening to exploit.

Me: [I'm getting an IV.]

I sent him photos of the IV bag, my hospital wristband, and the ER paperwork showing I was under observation.

He didn't reply for a long time.

I left Lakebridge General at 2:40 a.m.

I didn't go to Avermont.

I knew exactly what would happen if I set foot there.

They would claim I'd left after the surgery, then come back to destroy evidence.

So I went home and organized everything I had in chronological order.

By morning, Avermont had called an emergency meeting.

I was told to join by video.

Dr. Martin Wallace, the associate chief medical officer, was there, along with staff from Medical Affairs and the Quality and Patient Safety Office, as well as Dr. Brown.

Grant sat at one side of the conference table, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up. He looked exhausted, like an administrator who had spent the entire night dealing with a medical crisis.

Elise sat in the corner with swollen red eyes and a wrinkled white coat.

She looked like a frightened young doctor barely holding herself together.

Dr. Wallace got straight to the point.

"Dr. Caldwell, the hospital system lists you as the primary surgeon in Daniel Morris's case. Tell us what happened."

I looked straight into the camera.

"I wasn't at Avermont last night."

Grant frowned. "Jessica, don't do this just because you're upset."

My voice turned cold. "Upset about what?"

He sighed.

"Badge-access records show your badge was used to enter the surgical building at 9:44 p.m. The surgical schedule lists you as Daniel's primary surgeon. And the pre-op review note includes your input."

I stared at him.

"I was in the ER at Lakebridge General. So how exactly was my badge used to get into Avermont?"

Elise suddenly burst into tears. "Jessica, you can't do this."

She looked up at me, tears streaming down her face.

"You were the one who said we couldn't delay the case. You said we had to keep the pilot program on schedule and told me to start the laparoscopy before you got there. You said you'd be there soon, but you never showed up."

Her voice broke.

"I'm junior to you. How was I supposed to go against you? Now the patient's dead, and you can't make me your scapegoat."

The conference room fell into suffocating silence.

Dr. Brown's face darkened.

"Jessica, did you tell her to operate or not?"

"No."

I sent the screenshots to the meeting chat.

"At 7:36 last night, I clearly documented that the surgery should be postponed. At 7:40, I posted the same instruction in our department chat. Dr. Brown, you personally agreed."

Dr. Wallace's expression hardened.

Grant immediately cut in.

"That's what was written in the chat, but clinical situations change. The family is furious. The hospital needs to show that we're taking this seriously."

Then he looked at me with just the right amount of disappointment.

"Jessica, stop seeing patients for now and cooperate with the investigation."

I stared at the man I'd shared a bed with for three years.

In that moment, the last shred of hope I had left for him died.