Framed as a Quack: I Crushed My Hands in Rage

On the day I'm supposed to get promoted as the deputy director, I pick up a 40-pound barbell before breaking my right arm with it.

Because of the injury, I missed the only title-evaluating surgery available in five years.

Everyone feels sorry for me, seeing as I've practically ruined my own future with my own hands. But I, on the other hand, am so excited about it that I've downed two bottles of vintage wine in one go.

Because in my past life, I spent ten hours in surgery and pulled the patient back from the brink of death.

But my wife, Megan Reese, immediately accused me of abusing my power as a doctor just to resolve a personal vendetta by killing her first love, Pierre Hopkins, on purpose.

She bribed the nurses who were in the same surgery as me. They were adamant that I used the wrong medication purposefully, which led to the patient dying from a rupture.

Not only was my career destroyed, but I also became a public enemy, hated by everyone.

My mom tried to seek justice on my behalf, only to get cyberbullied by the Internet users, who knew nothing about the truth, to the point that she broke down. In the end, she accidentally fell into the river and drowned.

When I received the tragic news, I chose to end my life by jumping off the hospital's rooftop.

After I died, Megan spent my assets however she wanted. She also lived happily ever after with Pierre, who apparently "came back to life".

When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm supposed to perform a surgery on Pierre.

"How did Dr. Goodwin suddenly injure his hand?"

"Who knows? Maybe he's afraid that if the surgery fails tomorrow, he won't be able to save face as the newly promoted deputy director of the hospital."

I chose to ignore the gossip and speculation of my colleagues passing by.

Calmly, I continued walking toward Jamaal Monroe's office. He was the director.

My phone screen lit up with a message from Megan.

"Donovan, I'm leaving Pierre's surgery in your hands tomorrow. I trust you'll cure him. Love you, mwah."

It was the exact same message as in my previous life.

Back then, a simple "love you" from Megan would excite me. Now, nothing but a chill spread within me.

Mr. Monroe's face tightened into a deep frown as he looked at my bandaged right hand.

"How could you be so careless? Of all times to get injured, you choose now? I was counting on tomorrow morning's surgery to help you establish your authority within the hospital.

"I was hoping tomorrow’s surgery would help you build your authority here. Plenty of people still oppose you being deputy director."

I looked down at my injured right hand.

After a moment of silence, I said slowly, "I apologize for letting you down, Mr. Monroe. You should ask Dr. Reese to take over the surgery tomorrow. His seniority and practical skills are among the best in the hospital, after all."

Mr. Monroe sighed again. "Well, it seems that's the only way. You should take some time off to rest properly."

I left the hospital and took a taxi to Mom's place.

As I watched the streets flash by outside the window, I felt a sense of calm I had never known before.

Everyone else thought I had missed a perfect opportunity to prove myself. Only I knew that the surgery tomorrow, which seemed like it would bring me endless glory, was actually part of a massive plot to bring me down.

Before I could even take out my keys, the front door swung open from inside. Mom stood there, her eyes red-rimmed and her face full of worry as she looked at my injured hand.

"Donovan, how's your hand?"

Seeing Mom standing there alive in front of me, I felt my nose start to sting. I couldn't help but wrap her in a tight hug.

"Mom, I missed you."

Mom was taken aback at first, then gently patted my back.

"Donovan, did something happen at the hospital? Listen to me, go ask Mr. Monroe for leave. Stay home and rest for a while. I don't expect you to achieve greatness—I just want you to be okay."

A tear slid from the corner of my eye. I wanted Mom to be okay, too.

Given a second life, I will rewrite our fate—mine and Mom’s.

After composing myself, I forced a casual tone and said, "Don't worry, Mom. Mr. Monroe has already approved a month's leave for me."