The Heir in the White Coat
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."
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