Framed as a Quack: I Crushed My Hands in Rage

The doctors and nurses drawn by the commotion couldn't help but whisper among themselves.

"I always thought Dr. Goodwin was a gentle and decent man, but who knew he could be so vicious in private. Could he have violent tendencies?"

"As the saying goes, you can't judge a book by its cover. Otherwise, how do you think he became the deputy director at such a young age?"

"You don't think he'd actually kill a patient over personal grudges, right?"

Pierre's family got all worked up again. A few burly men shifted restlessly, looking like they were ready to come at me again.

But the moment their hands touched me, over a dozen security guards stepped in to stop them. In the end, they could only point at me and curse furiously.

Mr. Monroe also looked at me in surprise.

A flicker of smug satisfaction crossed Megan's eyes when she saw this. She seized the opportunity to press me again.

"Donovan, with both witnesses and evidence right here in front of us, what do you have left to say for yourself?"

Instead of panicking, I remained utterly calm.

"It's just a video taken out of context, so it can hardly be used as evidence."

Sheila gritted her teeth and shot back vehemently, "Dr. Goodwin, do you have any proof that this video is taken out of context?"

"Then do you have any evidence that I swapped Pierre's medication? When and where did I supposedly do it?" I countered.

As if she had anticipated my question, Sheila answered with apparent ease, as though she had truly witnessed it herself.

"You did it this morning before the surgery. In the dressing room, you injected an unknown substance into Pierre's IV vial."

"I personally injected it into the vial?"

"That's right!"

At this answer, I exchanged a glance with Mr. Monroe. Immediately afterward, he erupted in anger.

He pointed at Sheila and demanded loudly, "Which department are you from?"

Confronted with Mr. Monroe's question, Sheila felt the forced composure on her face crack piece by piece.

"Mr. Monroe, I'm an operating room nurse."

"Since you're an operating room nurse, why are you helping outsiders slander one of our doctors? Don't you know that those who betray their own never come to a good end?"

Sheila's face paled in shock as she rushed to defend herself. "Mr. Monroe, I didn't. Everything I said is true! You can't just push a powerless nurse like me forward to take the blame just because Dr. Goodwin is the deputy director!"

Megan shot me a venomous glare before turning to fan the flames, trying to stir up the emotions of those watching.

"Mr. Monroe, Ms. Bell is right. You can't threaten an innocent young woman just to protect Donovan."

"Are patients' lives worth nothing in the eyes of you doctors?"

"I'm calling the police right now. I refuse to believe there's nowhere for ordinary people like us to seek justice."

I fired back without backing down, "Go ahead and call the police. I'd also like to ask them how someone with a fractured finger on their right hand could inject medication into a vial or perform surgery on a patient."

As I slowly extended my heavily bandaged right hand, both Megan and Sheila instantly paled. But there was more than left Megan in disbelief.

The next moment, the operating room doors swung open, and a doctor in scrubs stepped out.

When he spotted Mr. Monroe, his face lit up with happiness.

"Mr. Monroe, the surgery was a complete success. Once the anesthesia wears off, we can transfer the patient to a general ward."

Megan, however, screamed sharply, "Dad, who did you operate on?"