When My Husband and His Student Did IVF, I Tampered with the Embryo

"First of all, IVF isn't a guaranteed success!" My voice was firm, cutting through the rising din of the crowd.

Upon receiving the call, I immediately returned to the hospital to address the situation. I straightened, meeting the gaze of each protester. "Find me an obstetrician who can guarantee conception under such poor conditions!"

The murmuring crowd faltered for a moment, their outrage wavering under the weight of reason.

"Besides," I added, my tone cold and resolute, "I resigned a month ago. Rioting here won't change a thing!"

The hospital lobby was brightly lit, but the tension in the air made it feel stifling. Angry faces surrounded me, their voices growing softer as rationality began to seep in. Some of the more composed members of the crowd started to exchange hesitant glances.

"She's right," a voice piped up from the back. It was a middle-aged man clutching his wife's hand. "No matter how skilled a doctor is, the success of IVF depends on many factors. It's never a guarantee."

Another person nodded in agreement. "And if she already quit, there's no point in causing a scene here. What do you hope to achieve?"

For a brief moment, I felt a flicker of relief. Unlike in my previous life, where I had been too paralyzed with fear to defend myself, I stood firm this time, unshaken by their accusations.

But Jessica wasn't finished. Her eyes narrowed and her lips twisted into a cruel smile. She played her next card, her voice trembling with calculated indignation.

"Even so, we did everything you asked, but I still didn't get pregnant. Doesn't that mean it's your fault?" she cried, her voice cracking for dramatic effect.

Before I could respond, she stepped forward and pointed an accusatory finger at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't conceive because of you! And who knows if you're even a real doctor? You've probably broken some rules! That's why I'm still not pregnant!"

Her words ignited the simmering anger in the crowd. A group of middle-aged women—many of whom had failed IVF procedures themselves—rallied behind her. Their wailing and accusations filled the lobby, turning the atmosphere into bedlam.

Jessica dropped to her knees, sobbing hysterically, her face buried in her hands. The dramatic display tugged at the emotions of those watching, both in the room and online.

The faint sound of a notification ping echoed through the lobby. Jessica had started a livestream and the viewer count skyrocketed almost instantly. The camera zoomed in on her tear-streaked face as she recounted her fabricated tragedy.

"She ruined me!" Jessica screamed into the camera. "She made me lose my baby and now I never have the chance of ever being a mother!"

The comments section exploded with outrage.

[Monster!]

[She should lose her medical license!]

[Justice for Jessica!]

The mob turned hostile, their anger fueled by the vitriol online. Someone threw an empty plastic bottle at me and it bounced harmlessly off my shoulder. Others began shouting insults, their words cutting deep.

I stayed rooted, my expression calm despite the uproar swirling around me. I remembered this moment from my previous life—the same scene, the same accusations. But this time, I wouldn't let them break me.

"You claim you can never have children again—do you have proof?" I asked, my voice steady and unyielding.

Jessica's tearful performance faltered for a split second before she pulled a document from her bag with a flourish. It was a laboratory report, one she had undoubtedly prepared beforehand.

"See for yourself!" she snapped, thrusting the paper toward me. "It was because of the procedure you performed that I had a natural miscarriage and lost my ability to have children!"

Her voice dripped with righteous fury and she waved the certificate in the air for the cameras to see.

I didn't flinch. "There's a significant difference between infertility caused by a miscarriage and infertility caused by deliberately terminating a pregnancy," I said calmly.

I caught the eye of my student, who was standing nervously at the edge of the crowd. "Have a look at her lab report," I instructed. "It won't take long to confirm the truth."

The young doctor nodded quickly and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Jessica visibly unsettled.

She quickly masked her unease with more accusations. "And not only did she violate regulations," Jessica cried, her voice rising again, "she's a corrupt doctor who took countless bribes! Her own husband can testify to everything I'm saying!"

The crowd turned to look as Jessica dragged Isaac out of the throng. He straightened his jacket and stood tall, his expression smug.

"I'm Isaac Johnson," he announced for the cameras, his voice filled with false gravitas. "I'm Lola's husband. And it's true—she's done many unforgivable things."

I clenched my fists at my sides, anger bubbling beneath my calm facade.

"She abused her power, taking bribes and lining her pockets," Isaac continued, his tone full of righteous indignation. "And to top it off, her credentials are fake and her medical skills are horrendous!"

"Because she can't have children herself," Jessica chimed in, her voice venomous, "she sabotaged her patients out of jealousy! She ruined my future because she couldn't stand to see someone else happy!"

Their words echoed in the lobby and the crowd erupted into shouts and curses.

"How can she call herself a doctor? She's a fraud!"

"She's not even human—she's a monster!"

"Lock her up!"

A cup of cold coffee hit the floor near my feet, splashing brown liquid across my shoes. Someone else threw a crumpled piece of paper that hit my arm.

The hospital lobby exploded into chaos. A middle-aged woman, her face twisted with fury, stormed toward me. Before I could react, she grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me to the ground. Pain shot through my scalp as my knees hit the cold, tiled floor.

"You ruined her life and now you'll pay!" she shrieked, her voice ringing out above the crowd.

Around me, the mob surged forward, their anger boiling over into physical violence. Someone tried to pull at my coat and another even spat at me. For a moment, I thought I might be trampled.

Then came the sharp, commanding voices of security guards. "Everyone, back off! Stop this now!" They pushed through the crowd, forming a protective barrier around me. Their presence restored a semblance of order, but the hostility in the air was palpable.

Shaking slightly, I adjusted my disheveled hair and rose to my feet, my knees stinging from the fall. I refused to let them see me falter.

Moments later, the young doctor returned, clutching a file. His face was pale but determined as he handed me Jessica's laboratory report. I scanned the document quickly, confirming what I already knew: she had undergone an abortion.

I took out my phone, my fingers steady as I navigated to the recording I had saved. The room fell silent as my voice echoed through the speaker.

"Mrs. Johnson, you're the head of obstetrics at Baywood Hospital. You can figure out a way to do the IVF procedure even without a marriage certificate, right?" Jessica's pleading voice filled the room, capturing every desperate word she had spoken.

I lifted my gaze to meet Jessica's wide-eyed stare. "Your lab report shows that you deliberately chose to terminate your pregnancy," I said, my tone cutting through the tension like a blade. "You have no one to blame for your infertility but yourself."

Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"And as for your claim that I violated medical procedures," I continued, holding up another file, "here is the signed consent form you submitted along with your marriage certificate. Everything was done by the book."