The Surgeon's Betrayal My Husband and His Mistress Behind Bars

If I went down, I was taking everyone with me.

I scoffed, my gaze hardening. "Fine. I'll resign. I'll take the blame and leave. Is that acceptable, Director Fleming?"

Nathaniel's expression darkened instantly. Before he could respond, his desk phone rang. He snatched it up, listening intently. I couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but his eyes darted toward me, cold and calculating.

Without a word, he hung up and tore my resignation letter to shreds.

"You—"

"Rachel." His voice cut through mine, ice-cold. "Go tell the patient's mother that you left the gauze inside her son."

A chill ran down my spine. "What?"

He wasn't just asking me to resign. He was asking me to destroy my career to save Nora.

"This isn't just my decision." He extended the phone toward me. "Speak to your mother."

I took the device, my hand trembling. Mom's voice filtered through, sharp and demanding.

"Rachel, Nathaniel told me the situation. Nora cannot be implicated in this."

Her words were nails driving me into the floorboards.

"You're older. Stronger. You can handle a setback like this. Even if you lose your license, the family will support you. But Nora is different. We spoiled her—she's fragile. If she gets a mark like this on her record, she'll never recover."

My grip tightened until my knuckles went white.

"Be a good daughter." Her tone was final.

Fragile? Nora?

Before I could respond, the break room door burst open with a deafening crash.

"Where is the butcher who hurt my son?!" Mrs. Harrington stormed in, eyes wild with fury. "Director Fleming, give me a name!"

Nathaniel didn't hesitate. Didn't even blink.

He raised a finger and pointed directly at me.

"It was her."

Smack!

My head snapped to the side, cheek burning like a brand. Before I could draw breath, Mrs. Harrington lunged. She seized a fistful of my hair and yanked, throwing me to the floor.

"So it was you! You butchered my son!" she screamed. "I'll sue you for everything! You forced my boy onto the operating table a second time! You murderer!"

Her expensive heels slammed into my ribs. I curled into a ball, trying to shield my head, but the blows kept coming.

"Incompetent trash!"

Pain radiated through my body, but the cold seeping from the tiled floor into my heart was far worse. I looked up through the chaos, searching for my husband.

Nathaniel stood there, watching. He met my gaze for a fleeting second—eyes void of emotion—then turned his back on me. He placed a protective arm around Nora and escorted her out.

As they left, Nora glanced back. She didn't look scared.

She looked smug.

Ten minutes later, security finally pulled Mrs. Harrington off me. She spat in my direction, face twisted with hate.

"Just you wait. I'll see you in court. I'll make sure you never work in this city again!"

It was late when I finally dragged my battered body to the surveillance room.

Every OR was equipped with cameras. Usually, for routine surgeries, they weren't strictly monitored. But yesterday, knowing Nora was scrubbing in, I had explicitly ordered the staff to keep the recording running.

I needed insurance. Now, it was my only lifeline.

My ribs ached as I sat down. I pulled up the log for yesterday's surgery and clicked the file.

The media player opened.

My breath hitched.