Operation

When my middle-school-aged daughter underwent surgery for appendicitis, I messaged her homeroom teacher to request a two-week leave of absence. The teacher called back a few minutes later, clearly irritated. “Mrs. Stephens, is your daughter going to take time off during the SATs, too? Other students attend school even with broken legs. Why is Claire the only one demanding special treatment?” I already knew Claire’s teacher was notoriously difficult, so I steadied myself and explained as patiently as I could. “Miss Lawson, an appendectomy is an invasive surgery. Her doctor has specifically ordered at least two weeks of bed rest. I hope you can understand…” Before I could finish, she hung up. Convinced I had made myself clear, I set my phone down and thought no more about it. I never expected Claire to come running home in tears two weeks later. “Mom, Miss Lawson said the advanced class has no place for lazy students like me and that she refuses to teach me anymore. She also said no one needs two weeks to recover from such a minor surgery. She accused me of sleeping around, getting pregnant, and secretly staying home to recover from an abortion.”

After my mom got into a car accident and urgently needed surgery to save her life, I gave the surgery slot to my best friend’s son, Isaac Halstead. After all, in the middle of the night, there was only one doctor in the hospital capable of performing the surgery. At the same time, Isaac had swallowed a blade and gone into shock. But after the operation, Isaac died under mysterious circumstances, and Corinne Halstead blamed his death on me. She started a livestream and twisted the truth. She falsely accused me of bribing the doctor, stealing the surgery opportunity that originally belonged to her son, causing them to miss the critical treatment window, which led to Isaac’s death. In the next moment, the police rushed into the hospital and took me, along with the doctor and others, away for investigation. My mom, whose condition was critical, missed the surgery and died. The incident trended online, and I was subjected to massive cyberbullying. The doctor who performed the surgery turned out to be my dad, Dr. Alistair Brennan. In the end, he was deliberately run over and killed by an extremist netizen. In despair, I drank pesticide to prove my innocence. Not long after I died, Corinne moved into a luxury villa with Isaac and my husband, Grant Kessler. Only then did I realize that Isaac’s death had been fake all along. This had all been part of her scheme. She not only took Grant, embezzled the inheritance, but also rode the wave of attention to become an internet celebrity, earning tens of millions. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the night my mom was rushed to the hospital after the accident.

My boss, Grant Whitlock, removed every table and chair from the operations team's area during the company's holiday party. Then, he placed one stainless-steel dog bowl in the middle of the stage. "Ops is basically the company's guard dog," he announced. "And dogs don't eat at the table." The top sales guy laughed and scraped his leftovers straight into the bowl. After that, Grant threw a black trash bag over my shoulders. "From now on, you're our walking trash can. Make yourself useful." The room exploded with laughter. I didn't say a word. I just tightened my grip around the master access card in my hand. What they didn't know was that the building's emergency utility approvals, maintenance access, and property management favors all went through me. They were all living it up because of this "dog" they loved looking down on. I had had enough. So, I dropped my employee badge into the dog bowl and walked out on them. I thought, 'After the holidays, no one will be cleaning the mess on those two floors. Let's see how well they survive without me.'

I'm eight months pregnant when I suddenly faint on the train. My husband panics and cries for help as he kneels beside me. An interning doctor hurries to me. She doesn't bother checking my condition before saying, "The patient needs to undergo a C-section! We have to get the baby out now, or it might die of suffocation!" Then, she slices me open with a fruit knife—she doesn't take any precautionary measures before doing so. She takes my child out. I'm in so much pain that I don't even have the strength to scream. My blood flows everywhere. Yet, a photo of her holding my baby while standing in a pool of blood goes viral. People call her the prettiest doctor alive. My husband and his family are eternally grateful to her. They don't go after her for causing my death; they even make her my child's godmother! Meanwhile, I'm given a simple cremation. No one cares about me. After my death, all my assets go to my husband and his family. Only then do I hear my husband and the doctor talking to each other, sounding smug. "This plan killed two birds with one stone. We got rid of that woman and made ourselves out to be heroes!" That's when I learn the interning doctor is my husband's junior from high school. They got together when he accompanied me to my prenatal checkups! She failed her internship, so my husband came up with this idea—he wanted to use my death to boost her reputation and help her! Even my child eventually died under their "care". When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day we get on the train.

Thanks to a car accident, I've suffered from a severe injury in my head, leaving me with one foot in my grave. My husband, Andrew Rollins who's known for being an extremely talented doctor, serves as my primary surgeon. He conducts a surgery on me that lasts for 18 hours straight just so he can wrench my life from Death's cold fingers. But the first thing I do after I wake up is tell him, "Let's get divorced, Andrew." His eyes become bloodshot immediately. "Tess, I just saved your life, and yet the first thing you want is a divorce? Is it because I've been too busy with my work at the hospital that it cuts down on the time I get to spend with you?" I frown deeply. "It's precisely due to the fact that you've saved me that I must file for a divorce. That's the only way I can help you uphold your title as an extremely talented doctor." My older family members are quick to advise me. "Andrew is such an amazing husband. Not only is he a family man, but he also loves you with all his heart. Why must you insist on getting a divorce? Are you tired of living a great life with Andrew?" Whoever has the gall to advise me will receive a rebuttal from me, no questions asked. "If you think he's such a prized man, you can have him after the divorce." Because of that, everyone is pissed at me. "Go ahead with the divorce, then! You'd better not regret your decision in the future!" I mumble under my breath, "Oh, I regret it alright… I regret not divorcing him sooner."

At my daughter’s graduation party, the laptop I gave her turned out to be the same model as the one my ex-wife's boyfriend gave her. She slammed the computer I bought violently onto the ground, smashing it to pieces. "You obviously knew Chad was going to give me this, yet you bought the same one. You just want to make Chad look bad!" My daughter screamed hysterically at me, while my ex-wife flashed a malicious smile. Half a month later, my daughter secretly drugged me during dinner. When I woke up, I found myself smuggled across the border, trapped inside a cold iron cage. On stage, the auctioneer announced, "Today, we're auctioning off every single organ from this man's body. Highest bidder wins!" Meanwhile, my daughter sat down below the stage, her gaze filled with venomous hatred. "Connor, since you love buying identical things just to steal everyone else's spotlight, today, we'll let you steal the spotlight to your heart's content! "Let's see which of your organs you actually have the power to save on your poor worker's salary!" As my heart turned to stone, I silently awakened the system that I had neglected for many years. [Ding—Host has successfully activated the Damage Transfer System.]