Doctor Plot Twists Short Stories & Novels

My mother has volunteered at our neighborhood church for over a decade. Christmas drives, Sunday service, any neighbor in trouble, she's the first one there. Everyone says God sent her to us. She thinks so too. She says God wants her to be generous, so she is. The thing is, when no one's watching, the generosity always comes out of my pocket. After she remarried, she doted on my half-sister Serena. Serena picked up a box of cold medicine for her, and Mom handed Serena the keys to my Tesla. Serena mentioned she needed to renew her car insurance, and Mom wired her the surgery fund I'd been saving for two years for my daughter Emma. That afternoon, Emma collapsed on the floor, lips turning blue, gasping for air. Her medicine was crushed into the carpet. Mom fished the last pill out of her pocket and dangled it in front of me. "Apologize to your sister, and I'll give Emma the pill." I got on my knees. But that same day, she gave away the cardiology appointment I'd spent three months getting. She gave it to Serena. What she didn't know was that the name on the appointment was her own.

One day, at work, there was an emergency surgery. As the doctor in charge, I reassigned the hospital’s only remaining dose of a highly sought-after specialty drug. The moment I stepped out of the operating room, I was escorted away by the Office of Medical Affairs and Governance. They accused me of improperly authorizing the use of a restricted medication and informed me that my medical license could be revoked. As I struggled to defend myself, a new intern hired by the chief of my department sent me a message. [Dr. Britton, how could you reassign a restricted medication without approval? Dr. Guzman worked incredibly hard to secure that drug for the department. You can’t just take it because you feel like it! I have a responsibility to help the chief keep things running smoothly, so I reported you to Medical Affairs. Doctors are supposed to put patients first. Someone like you doesn’t deserve to wear a white coat. From now on, every medication request in this department will require both my review and signature!] I could not help but laugh when I read it. That intern had only been in the department for a month. Seeing how approachable and easygoing the department chief was, she had apparently decided that it was her job to police everyone else. What she did not know was that my grandfather owned the hospital. That imported miracle drug everyone had been fighting to obtain? I had led the research team that developed it. In fact, I held the patent. Even the eight-hundred-dollar monthly stipend she received as an intern came from the funding allocated to my research program. How could using a drug I myself had invented ever constitute a protocol violation?

In the third year of my wolf decay, I was dying. It was a rare condition. I wanted to donate my body to research. I called my mother, three years since I'd last seen her, and asked her to sign the donation consent form. Without her signature, there'd be no one to handle my remains. She was busy with work. "Are you really making up something like this just to get attention?" she snapped. But I begged, and she gave a cold laugh and agreed. "What a miserable thing to deal with. You better actually be dying." Later, my wolf heart ended up on her dissection table. And that woman, who had nothing but contempt for me, actually killed three people for me.

I was the best surgical hand in the department, and after three flawless operations in a row, I got slapped with an official reprimand and had my entire month's bonus docked. I wasn't having it. I marched straight to the Medical Affairs Office to hash it out with the manager, Gerald Sneed. "I've given this hospital ten years! Name one time I wasn't the first one in when it mattered! Last year, I pulled five surgeries back-to-back and collapsed on my feet by the end of it! What exactly did I do wrong that you're cutting my bonus over?" I was good at what I did, but my life outside the hospital was no easier. Mortgage, car payment, my kid's basketball lessons. I had been counting on that month's bonus to cover it, and now it was gone. I wasn't letting this slide. Since when did a successful surgery count as a mistake? Given my standing at the hospital, Manager Sneed didn't dare go toe-to-toe with me. Instead, he tried to smooth things over. "Dr. Cole, during that surgery you ran at three in the morning two nights ago, you drank two bags of glucose solution off the books, and it ended up billed to the patient. The family found out and accused us of overcharging. It's already blowing up online. Our hands are tied here." That's when it came back to me. That emergency surgery two nights ago had been a mess. It wasn't even supposed to be mine. I had already been on my feet in the OR for thirty-six straight hours, but the deputy director came looking for me and swore no one else could pull it off. So I gritted my teeth and scrubbed in. The surgery went perfectly. And somehow, that was what it got me. I took a breath and changed my tone. "I understand completely. This one's on me. I'll take a month off, go home, and think it over." Manager Sneed, pleased with himself for scoring one against me, approved the leave on the spot. What he didn't expect was that only a week later, the hospital director himself would call, begging me to come back to work.

On the day of the wedding, Galen Shaw forces me to crack walnuts with my bare hands for his so-called female buddy. My expression goes cold, and I refuse outright. "My hands are for holding a scalpel, not cracking walnuts for her!" He only chuckles and orders someone to hold me down. Then, he glues the walnuts to my palms himself. One by one, he slams them against the ground. "You cheated while studying medicine. Now that you've married me, forget about ever being a doctor again!" I grit my teeth through the pain. My fingers are aching, but I try to explain. "I went abroad to study medicine for you!" His so-called female buddy sneers in a shrill voice. "All that talk about the Shaw family's hereditary disease is nonsense! Galen has been perfectly healthy for over 20 years. Don't tell me you just want another excuse to cozy up with your precious senior?" The moment those words leave her lips, the faint thought of having someone bandage my hand disappears. A shadow crosses Galen's face. "Looks like you haven't learned your lesson!" He throws me into the basement and locks me there for three days. By the time I crawl out, my hands are completely ruined. Later, when Galen's hereditary disease finally surfaces, the doctor tries to comfort him. "This disease may be terminal, but there is still a way. Dr. Robinson has just returned from overseas. She's the only one in the world who can perform this surgery. "I hear that she's your wife."

I gave birth prematurely, just twenty days before the due date. Two hours after I entered the surgery room, I had a stillborn baby. I did not cry at all. I did not even spare a glance at the dead baby. I endured the pain from childbirth and calmly walked into the hospital nursery. After the door was tightly shut, I turned down the temperature of the air-conditioning. The temperature inside the nursery would be too cold for newborns to bear after an hour. The doctors and parents were begging me on their knees to let their babies live. They screamed and cried. They said I was a mother and hoped that I would understand. Instead, I laughed and said, “Yes, I was a mother. But my baby died!” The gynecologist knelt on the floor and begged, “We may be at fault for not being able to save your baby, but these babies are innocent! “Please don’t be reckless just because you lost your baby! You’re so young. You’ll have more babies in the future.” I gritted my teeth and roared, “But my baby isn’t dead! “She’s still alive. I’ll give you one hour. Bring her back to me!” But I was unsure if she would still be alive after an hour.

When my wife, Celeste Harrington, sent her seventh young lover to me for a penile augmentation, her friends made bets on how quickly I would lose my mind. But even after the light over the OR door went off, nobody heard me fall apart. "Celeste, that's the seventh guy now. What if your husband is actually angry enough to stop speaking to you?" one of her friends asked. Celeste shrugged. "He can't have children with me, and I've got a family empire to pass on. Sooner or later, I'm going to have a baby with another man. Why not keep a few men around now so he gets used to it? I get to enjoy myself, too." I stepped out of the OR, my expression unreadable, and delivered the usual announcement. "Congratulations. The operation was successful." Celeste approached with a smile. "Nice work." Then she handed me a divorce agreement. "Sign it, will you? It's just for show. This guy refuses to have a baby with me unless I divorce you. Once the baby's born, we'll raise it together. Nobody will dare call you less of a man when you're raising a child." I'd played along with this humiliating routine six times before. This time, I signed without hesitation. Then I turned around and said yes to someone else's proposal. Celeste had apparently forgotten one important detail: I wasn't infertile. The problem was the genetic risk of having a child with her. All I needed was a different partner. Why had she ever assumed I'd be generous enough to raise her lover's baby?

During a critical meeting, my medical case notes were swapped for "Confession of an Affair”. "Exhibit A: She knowingly intruded into a marriage, a disgrace to her profession." "Exhibit B: Harassing the patient's family and destroying their family." "Exhibit C: Callously endangering lives, deliberately plotting against the wife and child to take her place!" In front of hospital leadership, the patient’s family accused me of being a homewrecker, attempting to shame me into confessing. It was chaotic until she physically assaulted me, leaving me with a concussion. When my husband rushed in from the operating room, I said coldly, "Looks like this ‘real wife’ is being called the mistress! Why would you still defend me?” Without hesitation, my husband stepped forward and slapped the real mistress. “Security!” he called out. “Get this troublemaker out of here, now!”

I'm a privileged only child hailing from the wealthy coastal region. In fact, my family has just received three brand-new apartments from the government after they've bought up our old property for redevelopment. On Christmas Eve, my cousin, Patrick Snyder, brings his girlfriend, Kelsey Randall, back for dinner. She stares at me for a while before gasping in shock. "Hang on, you look really familiar! You must be 69goddess, right? I saw your videos on a porn site before! You really have an amazing figure!" The atmosphere at the dining table goes eerily silent at that moment. My relatives all shoot me disgusted looks simultaneously. Dad is so pissed that he tosses his newly-shelled crab away. Meanwhile, Mom can barely catch her breath after hearing the news. Patrick shields Kelsey from me while looking disdainful. "You bring nothing but shame to the family, Jillian! Don't go around telling others that you know me from now on!" I wipe my hands with a napkin slowly. Then, I shoot a wide smile at the pretentious Kelsey. "Have you forgotten that I'm the one performed the gender-affirming surgery on you, Kelsey?"

Three days before our wedding, I brought supper for my fiancee, Zoe Anderson, at the hospital. I opened the door of the on-call room and heard moaning sounds. Under the dim lights, the intern, Jack Reid, buried his head against Zoe’s fair shoulder. His hand slipped beneath her open white coat. After Zoe saw me, she pushed him away and tidied her clothes. She looked very calm. “Jack’s pursuing me. He’s infatuated with me, and when he found out that we’re getting married, he threatened to kill himself with a scalpel. “I was worried he’d hurt himself, so I comforted him this way. Our wedding will still go on three days later. “You’ve always been very kind. I believe you won’t mind me saving a life this way, right?”