Heartbeat Hospital

I'm finally pregnant after five years of marriage. I initially want Morgan Holt to accompany me to the hospital so I can surprise him, but he stoically tells me that he hates hospitals. I can understand and accommodate that. Then, he surprises me—he accompanies his new junior to the hospital for a medical checkup. At that moment, I know our relationship is over. When I bid him farewell, I say, "She's your true love's younger sister, right? I can understand why you've transferred your love to her. I wish you two well." His eyes redden. "I can't live without you."

Seven years into our marriage, I went to the hospital as usual to bring Jason Gunn lunch. But as I stood outside his office, I overheard his colleagues teasing him about a patient, calling her his girlfriend. To my shock, Jason didn't deny it—he simply smiled and allowed it. I placed the lunchbox down and turned to leave. He rushed after me, angrily accusing me of being unreasonable. "Zara is just a patient, someone who had surgery. She can't be stressed out. I'm a doctor! Can't you, as my wife, understand that?" In the past, I would have exploded, causing a scene and making the entire hospital chaotic. But now, I didn't care anymore.

While preparing for the SATs at the library, my brother is accidentally shot and injured, causing him to bleed profusely. I pass by this scene but turn a blind eye and quicken my pace to leave. This is because in my previous life, when I saw him, I rushed him to the hospital in a panic. He had intracranial hemorrhaging, and he urgently needed surgery. I quickly called my mom, the top neurosurgeon in the city, begging her to come to the hospital as soon as possible. However, she thought I was jealous that she had taken my adopted sister to the beach instead of spending time with me. She also believed I had fabricated the story about my brother's injury, and thus refused to return. By the time my dad and the rest of the family hurried to the hospital, it was too late for rescue efforts—my brother had passed away. The whole family blamed me for his death. They were convinced that I had deliberately misled my mom and delayed his critical treatment. When my mom returned from out of town, she lost her composure and pushed me down the stairs, watching coldly as I bled to death. After opening my eyes again, I had returned to the day my brother was shot at the library.

I spent five years patching the cracks in Jonathan Blackwood—the Blackwood Pack’s legendary Alpha—until his first love, Isabella, “rise from the dead.” Jonathan dropped me in a heartbeat, dragging our two pups to her side. Blinded, they saw only Isabella’s shine—never her evil, never my heartbreak. At last, I woke up. I filed the bond-dissolution in silence and walked away—leaving everything, even my pups, to that foolish Alpha and the calculating she-wolf. When his wish was granted and her mask fell, Isabella’s cruelty began to fill Jonathan’s hollow chest with doubt and regret. He knelt before me, punished her, and begged me to return. I only looked at him with pity. “The one who hurt me most was never her. It was you.”

For Renata, the world of the rich is a place where she will never belong, as everyone, without exception, as self-centered, mean, rude, overbearing, cheating and wicked. When she leaves the country, she starts working for one of the biggest companies in the world, and although she hates herself for feeling this, she can't keep the bold Italian out of her thoughts, she can't control her heartbeat let alone the butterflies in her stomach every time he's around. She tries not to want him for 3 reasons: 1 - He is rich. 2 - He is her boss, and 3 - She finds the behavior of this Italian tycoon very suspicious. The more she tries to stay away, the more he insists on getting closer. Between them, which will speak louder: love or reason?

My husband woke me at 2 AM, demanding I come to the hospital to operate on Ava Foster— his first love. When I arrived, Ava was lying ghostly pale in the hospital bed. The chart showed end-stage uremia; she desperately needed a kidney transplant. I explained that her condition was critical, and without a matching donor, there was nothing I could do. My husband mistook my professional assessment for jealousy. He slapped me hard across the face. "What kind of doctor are you?" he snarled. "Are you just going to let her die? Test more people until you find a match!" I rubbed my cheek and nodded calmly. "Actually, we already found one." "Your kidney is compatible with hers. You'll be the donor."

My husband secretly swapped the transplant recipient, giving the kidney that was meant for our daughter to the daughter of the woman he had always loved. Not long after, our daughter's condition worsened. The doctors tried to save her, but it was no use. She didn't make it. At the same time, the other girl's surgery was a success. My husband was so overjoyed that he handed out little gifts to the entire hospital in celebration. Rage and grief overwhelmed me, and I collapsed. When I came to, the doctors told me I had cancer. Late-stage. My time was running out. With nothing left to hold on to, I walked out of the hospital, clutching the urn that held my daughter's ashes. In the cold, empty house, I sat alone and drafted the divorce papers.

Connor Lockwood abandons me at the hospital's entrance even though I'm bleeding in the middle of my pregnancy. He insists on sending his client, a divorcée, home. The blood flows down my legs, but he hurries off without another look back. He should've been at the hospital and by my side, but instead, I see him in his client's social media update. It's captioned, "Thank goodness for my wonderful lawyer. Do you know who gets to have hangover soup when they're drunk? Me!" I spend the rest of the night wide awake. The following morning, I calmly dial a number. "Dad, I've made up my mind. I'll return home in three days to take over the company."

In my past life, my husband brought our daughter, who was down with a cold, to his father's hospital so she could see a doctor. Later, she was pronounced dead. When I hurried to the hospital after hearing the news, he'd already transferred her organs to his true love's son's body. It was later that I learned my father-in-law was the one who extracted my daughter's organs when her vitals were perfectly fine. I was heartbroken and devastated. I wanted my husband and his family to give me an explanation for this, but he and his parents killed me by poisoning. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the moment my husband has just taken my daughter away.

"Breaking News! A certain A-lister was sent to the hospital in the middle of the night because of… anal fissures!" "This just in—a certain A-lister is witnessed being carted out of the elite heir's residence!" As I read the viral headlines featuring myself, I can't help but clench my fists tightly. "What the heck? Who came up with these stupid rumors anyway? I went to the hospital to get my hemorrhoids removed!" And here I am, thinking about why my long-time rival, Pierce Kirkland, had decided to invite me over to his place for a candlelit dinner in the first place. It turns out that he wanted to watch me embarrass myself after eating a spicy meal! But after Pierce makes a shoutout on a show, I belatedly realize that I can never escape from him anymore.