What Happens At The End Of Next Patient Please?

Sold off into marriage to save her mother, Liora thought life would eventually be kind to her, but life threw a dagger at her in the hands of the man she had grown to love. Five years later, Liora Adams returns to New York, no longer the broken girl she once was but a famous doctor, determined to make everyone pay. Nothing prepared her when Travis Ashford looked her in the eyes and said, ‘I need a fix, doctor.’ ‘Mr. Ashford, you’ve got the money; why not get one? ” Liora asked. ‘Only you can fix me, Liora," Travis answered. Liora’s lip curved in amusement as she answered, ‘Oh, Mr. Ashford, fixing exes is not a part of my specialty.’

In my last life, the Fosters acknowledged me as their real son. But my own sister framed me for causing their adopted son's relapse. My biological parents believed her and threw me out. Not long after, I died sick and alone on the street. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the Fosters came to take me home. Gracie Foster stood in front of our parents, pointed at me, and said, "Mom, Dad, he's not my brother!" They looked at me in disappointment, then turned and left. I stood there without taking out the locket that could prove who I was, then quietly walked back into the orphanage. Twenty years later, I became one of the country's leading cardiologist. The woman sitting across from me handed over a medical file, her voice trembling. "Doctor, please. Save my brother." When I saw the name, I stopped. My gaze shifted to her worn, haggard face. I stared at her for a long time before finally saying, "I won't take this patient."

I was the sole heir to the Thirteen Needles of Revival, a legendary healing art. My consultation fee was twenty thousand dollars per visit, yet every year countless tycoons, politicians, and powerful elites lined up outside my door. As long as a patient still drew breath, the Thirteen Needles of Revival could pull them back from Death's doorstep. Over the past five years, I had awakened a wealthy businessman who had been declared brain-dead after a car accident. I had also prolonged the life of a centenarian suffering from multiple organ failure. Even terminally ill patients whose families had already been told to prepare for the worst were able to walk out of the hospital on their own after receiving my treatment. There was only one ironclad rule. I treated no more than ten patients a year. Once those ten slots were filled, no amount of money, power, or influence could change my mind. Whoever came next would have to wait until the following year. This year, only one slot remained. Suddenly, a group of bodyguards dressed in black burst through the door. They carried in a man covered in blood and dropped to their knees before me. “Please save our boss! We'll pay whatever it takes!” I looked at the man they carried inside and spoke coldly. “Take him out. I wouldn't save this man even if it killed me.”

On my very first night working the overnight shift at the new hospital I've been transferred to, I run into my wife, Willow Jensen, who claimed she needed to be away on a year-long business trip. Now, she's lying on a gurney outside the delivery room, heavily pregnant, with blood pouring from beneath her. The man kneeling beside her grabs my hand tightly, his desperate pleas ringing in my ears. "Doctor, please! You have to save her!"

My fiancé's junior colleague went around the hospital every day calling herself "the best girl". When a patient with acute appendicitis was admitted, she mistakenly prescribed laxatives instead of proper treatment. The patient nearly went into shock and died. After the hospital was reported by the patient's family, she simply smiled and said, "I don't even need a supervising doctor to prescribe medication anymore. I'm such a good girl!" On another occasion, she failed to order routine pre-op blood work for a surgical patient. During the procedure, a visiting senior surgeon was exposed and later contracted HIV. She actually puffed out her chest and said, "Even if everyone had to stay up all night helping me save the doctor, I'm still the best girl!" I protested more than once and urged my fiancé to dismiss her. He refused every time. He brushed it off with a laugh, saying "this good girl" just needed time and experience. Then, a prominent patient was transferred from a military hospital for surgery. She secretly tampered with the medical records, switching the pathology findings from the left lung to the right. She even revised the surgical plan, recommending removal of the patient's completely healthy right lung. Luckily, I caught the mistake in time, restored the correct pathology report, and performed the surgery successfully. After the patient recovered, he asked for our team to be recognized. To my disbelief, Elena Bakers ran to my fiancé in tears. "I wrote the entire report by myself! All by myself! I'm the best little girl! "Why do you always take credit away from me? It took so much courage for this little girl to be brave just once! "You're all horrible!" Elena stormed out of the hospital and was struck and killed by a car on the spot. My fiancé did not say a word. However, on the very day I was appointed hospital director, he produced falsified evidence accusing me of altering records and causing multiple medical accidents to advance my career. I was arrested, tried, and sentenced to death. As the verdict was delivered, he looked at me with unmistakable satisfaction. "You'll never make up for what you owe Elena. Not in this lifetime." When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Elena altered the surgical plan.

My wife’s childhood friend, Peter White, needed surgery. He requested that I perform the operation as the lead surgeon. I followed every medical protocol exactly and did my best to save him. However, after being discharged, he accused me of practicing medicine illegally. He claimed I had made him permanently disabled. I asked my wife to back me up. But instead, she said to me, “I told you not to act recklessly, but you wouldn’t listen. Now look at what has happened!” The hospital security footage even showed that I did not follow the standard surgical procedure. I had no way to defend myself. In the end, I was stabbed to death by Peter’s wife, Janet White, who had been financially supporting him. Even during my dying moments, I could not understand why the surveillance showed that I was not following the medical protocol! When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Peter came in for his initial examination.