After Rebirth—I Drag My Ex and His First Love into the Abyss

Beatrice's eyes were red as she staggered toward me, each step heavy with accusations.

"Dr. Humphrey, we're doctors—our phones are supposed to be on twenty-four hours a day. You knew there was a C-section scheduled last night. You're the most skilled in obstetrics. And yet, at such a critical time, you turned your phone off. Annalise, what exactly were you thinking?"

Slap!

My hand landed across her cheek before she even saw it coming.

I looked down at her coldly. "Beatrice, have you lost your mind?"

The commotion had already drawn other colleagues from nearby departments. They gathered around, whispering, eyes wide.

Inhaling sharply, I raised my voice and spat coldly, "The duty roster clearly shows it was your surgery last night—not mine! Yes, I didn't notice my phone had died, but the one who signed up for the case, the one responsible for this operation, was you, Dr. Ingram!"

Beatrice's face completely went pale. "Life and death—how can you hide behind duty shifts? Your phone is always on. Why, of all days, did it just happen to be off last night? Ha... Annalise, it doesn't matter if you hate me. But you can't gamble with someone's life!"

Her words dripped with righteous indignation, enough to sway those who didn't know the full story.

A few patients watching nearby began whispering among themselves, speculating that I had deliberately shirked responsibility, leaving the mess to Beatrice just to watch her fail and be humiliated.

Before I could even respond, one of my colleagues snapped.

"Beatrice, shut your mouth! Do you even realize Dr. Humphrey performed three major surgeries yesterday without rest? She barely had two bites of bread and a sip of glucose between operations!"

Another added, furious, "Exactly! You sit in the office with air conditioning, skipping ward rounds, pushing your work onto others. You have no idea how hard Dr. Humphrey works! She got home past midnight. Phones die—what's so strange about forgetting to charge it after a day like that?"

Even the family members of the patient I had saved yesterday stood up in my defense.

"Besides, Dr. Humphrey fulfilled her duty during her own shift. Last night wasn't even her scheduled hours!"

The crowd began murmuring in agreement, realization dawning on their faces.

Even the colleagues who had assisted Beatrice last night couldn't stand it anymore.

"Enough, Dr. Ingram. Dr. Humphrey wasn't on duty—it wasn't her responsibility. If anyone's to blame, it's us for being unlucky enough to be there with you."

Beatrice stumbled back, collapsing onto the floor, her lips pale as chalk.

"What's all this ruckus?!"

The sharp bark of the hospital director cut through the crowd. Behind him, Darwin strode in with a stormy expression.

I opened my mouth to speak—but he brushed right past me.

He went straight to Beatrice, kneeling down to gently lift her up. "Bea, don't be afraid. I'll find a way. I won't let anything happen to you."

My chest tightened, but before I could say another word, the director's authority forced the crowd to scatter.

Then, with a grave look, he ordered me into his office.

The moment the door closed, his stern façade crumbled, replaced by visible panic.

"Anna! I know this isn't your fault, but listen to me—you must save this patient. Do you understand? She's Augustus' sister. If she dies in our hospital, no one here will survive the fallout—not me, not you, no one!"

I sighed softly.

This was precisely why I dared to turn off my phone last night. I knew my colleagues were capable of keeping her alive long enough. I knew even if I came in later, there was still hope of saving her.

And once that happened, the leverage in this matter would shift.

I looked straight at the director. "Today's disaster isn't only Beatrice's fault. Darwin bears responsibility too."

He froze.

I pulled out a document and set it on his desk—the approval form signed in Darwin's own hand.

"This reckless ‘one-handed delivery' idea? It was personally authorized by Darwin."