The One Who Died on the Table

He glared at me, his jaw tight. "Clara, while I still have a shred of feeling for you, you'd better quit while you can."

I let out a cold laugh. "You think it's the right time to talk about feelings? I'm already—"

"That's enough!" William Sterling, the hospital director, strode into the office, his expression dark with anger. "What are you all doing, yelling in a clinic room? Do you want the patients to think this place is a joke? If you want to get fired, just say so."

Everyone panicked at the thought of losing their job and hurried out of the room.

William stared at Andrew and me for a few seconds before turning his fury on me. "Clara, you were the lead surgeon. A mistake during the operation resulted in a patient's death. You're suspended during the investigation.

"When it's over, the hospital will move forward with your termination. As for legal responsibility, we'll know once the investigation concludes."

I stared at him, stunned. No one knew better than he did who the lead surgeon actually was that night.

…

Before I could speak, Andrew and every colleague from the department voiced their support for the director's decision. Some even said that a heartless doctor like me belonged behind bars.

Jenny stepped forward, wearing a victor's smile as she shooed me away. "This isn't your clinic anymore. Why are you still here?"

Andrew didn't stop her. Instead, he yanked off my badge and threw it on the floor, stomping on it.

I looked at my husband, someone I had once cared for, and the colleagues I had trusted. Then, I turned and walked out, numb.

I didn't leave the hospital right away. I went to the morgue to see my mother-in-law. I whispered an apology to her, telling her I would not take the fall for Andrew and Jenny.

When I got home, the living room was a wreck. A foul stench hung in the air.

All of my belongings had been tossed beside the trash can. The certificates I had earned over the years were scattered across the floor, covered in muddy footprints.

From the bedroom came sounds I didn't need to describe.

Fury surged through me. I kicked the door open. "Both of you, out!"

The two tangled on the bed jolted apart in fright.

Andrew pulled Jenny into his arms and snapped at me, "Ever heard of knocking?"

He tugged the blanket higher, irritation all over his face. He looked at me like I was the one intruding. "I've already decided to divorce you. Why are you still here?"

I let out a bitter laugh. This was my house. Why should I hand it over to this disgusting pair?

Jenny was already itching to move in. Her clothes were hung neatly in my closet.

I yanked them down and threw them out the door. "Let's not forget that I bought this place. If anyone's leaving, it's the two of you."

Andrew's face twisted with rage, his voice going shrill. "What do you mean it's your house? This is our marital home. Half of it is mine. If you had any decency left, you'd hand it over willingly. And don't even think about tattling to my mom. I earned this after all these years of being married to you."

Anger burned through me. He still dared to bring up his mother.

My eyes stung red as I forced the words out. "You still don't know who died on that operating table, do you?"

Andrew scoffed. "Why should I care? The patient's already dead. Now, get out unless you want to watch me and Jenny enjoy ourselves."

Jenny nipped Andrew's ear on purpose, her expression dripping with mockery. "Honestly, Dr. Winters just can't stand the idea of divorcing you. That's why she's looking for excuses to stay."

Andrew playfully tapped her arm. "Too late for regrets. She thinks I can't live without her? Please. I've got plans. Divorce her first, then I'll tell my mom. Even if she wants to object, it won't matter."

His arrogance was almost laughable.

"She won't object," I said quietly. "She won't get the chance."

Andrew brightened even more. "So, she finally saw what you're really like and stopped siding with you? That's great. I knew it. No mother in the world would choose an outsider over her own son."

I pulled out the folder from the drawer—every record from his mother's admission to the failed resuscitation—and threw it at his face.

"Andrew, the reason she won't object is that the person who died in that operating room was your mother!"