My Girlfriend Cut Off My Hand for Her Protégé,After Rebirth I Made Them Pay

My girlfriend's protégé once bragged he could perform a thoracotomy with one hand.

The performance failed. He stared at the patient's chest, split wide open and impossible to close, then dropped the scalpel and ran.

I got the call in the dead of night, rushed to the hospital, and saved the patient's life.

Chad Armstrong was torn apart online and faced severe disciplinary action.

My girlfriend wanted to speak in his defense. I held her back with everything I had.

"If you stand up for him now, you won't just lose your Young Investigator Award. The internet will come for you too."

Chad couldn't handle the public backlash. He jumped into the river.

His suicide note was soaked in anguish, every word an accusation against my girlfriend for not taking his side.

She said nothing.

She just set the note on fire.

In the years that followed, she rose from Young Investigator to full Fellow, becoming one of the most revered figures in medicine.

The day I went under the knife, she scrubbed in personally.

But she operated with only one hand.

She looked down at my chest, split open and impossible to close, and angled a mirror so I could see it for myself.

"See? A thoracotomy can be done with one hand.

"Why did you have to make things so hard for Chad?

"If I'd stopped him back then, he'd be the one standing where I am now."

Rage seized my heart. I coughed up blood and died.

When I opened my eyes again, I was watching my girlfriend charge into battle on Chad Armstrong's behalf.

She didn't know that the patient was the brother of a tycoon.

And that tycoon had an almost obsessive devotion to her brother.

The moment I realized I'd come back to the day Chad performed his one-handed thoracotomy stunt, the first thing I did was power off my phone.

I slept straight through until morning.

The next day, I turned my phone back on. Sure enough: ninety-nine missed calls.

In my previous life, Chad had known the second he screwed up. He'd called me all night, begging me to clean up his mess.

I hadn't cared that I'd just finished three back-to-back surgeries and had barely slept an hour.

I drove through a snowstorm back to the hospital and worked from dusk until dawn.

I saved the patient's life.

And because of that, the patient's sister, the woman who controlled the most powerful conglomerate in Ashford City, didn't bring the full weight of her fury down on Chad.

She only insisted he face the standard disciplinary measures.

If Chad had just gritted his teeth and weathered the storm, he could have rebuilt his career. Kept practicing. Kept growing.

But he'd been coddled his entire life by my girlfriend, Nellie Sullivan. Sheltered. Adored. He'd never faced real consequences.

The moment the internet turned on him, wave after wave of vitriol crashing down, he jumped into the river.

When I arrived at the hospital, Chad Armstrong was slumped on the floor outside the operating room, completely unraveled.

My colleagues were scrambling inside, their scrubs streaked with blood.

"This is your fault! Your hands were shaking, and you still insisted on that one-handed stunt!"

"Just because Director Sullivan brought you in, you think you can do whatever you want?"

"Great. Now we can barely keep the patient alive. It's only a matter of time before he flatlines. When his sister finds out, every single one of us who touched this case is finished!"

From inside the OR, a monitor shrieked its alarm.

My colleagues collapsed into their seats, faces drained of color.

"It's over. It's all over."

One of the newer residents broke down crying.

"Why wasn't Dr. Delgado on call last night? If he'd been here, he would've known what to do..."

"We're done for..."

Chad lifted his head. The instant he saw me, his eyes lit up.

"Him!"

He jabbed a finger in my direction.

"I called him all night! Every single call went unanswered! The one who killed this patient isn't us. It's him. The man who could've saved a life but deliberately turned off his phone!"

Every head in the hallway snapped toward me.

"Dr. Delgado!"

"Dr. Delgado, did you really turn off your phone on purpose?"

"Of course he did!"

Chad scrambled to his feet and held up his call log for everyone to see. Ninety-nine outgoing calls, all to my number.