been my home for ten years. My hands, once steady enough to repair a beating heart, trembled uncontrollably. I was dying. Not from a prison shank or a guard's bea

one surgery, one man, and

t monitor. The open chest of Councilman Thompson, his life literally in my hands. It was a complex heart transplant, a delicate dance of skill

over the surgical drape. Liam, who was supposed to be monitoring the bypass machine, wa

away. Now," I said, m

in his eyes before it was replaced by arr

room. That man's life depends on your full attention,"

an, for God's sake, don't be so dramatic. He glanced at

rets and conspiratorial annoyance. They were sleeping together, I knew that. The whole hospital whisper

I said, pointing my forceps at the councilman's chest. "If y

The one I should

ine. If you think you're so much better than everyone, do i

ng a patient mid-procedure was un

back here

than," she said, her voice cold. She started taking off h

phone! Olivia

sneer. She followed Liam out of the room, leaving me with an open chest, a complex

We were losing him. The crucial next step, the anastomosis of the aorta, was a two-person job. I tried. God, I tried

n Thompso

tern out of the room. They claimed I became erratic, that my personal vendetta against them-my ex-wife and her new lover-c

ghter. They were the star witnesses. I was convicted. My licen

ne and forgotten in

snappe

nding. I was standing. My hands, steady and strong, were in fro

ge window, I could see the team prepping the patient. I saw Dr. Sarah Chen, the kind a

en I s

de me, laughing quietly about something. Oli

Let's not keep the

bs. I looked at the clock on th

exact day. The day

this time, I would not let them win. This time, I