After finding an excuse to shake Ellie off, I hurried straight to the hospital director’s office.

I placed the annual leave application form I had prepared in advance on his desk, then turned and left the hospital without looking back.

That group of old foxes at the hospital feared public opinion more than anything. With the story blowing up online, the director would definitely pressure me into taking the surgery.

That was why I had already decided last night to go on leave.

I switched my phone to airplane mode and headed straight for my hometown, Ashford Hollow.

On the drive, I kept replaying every detail from my past life.

When I left Sebastian’s hospital room, he had clearly been fine. So how did he die overnight? And why had I been labeled the murderer?

No matter how hard I thought about it, I couldn’t find an answer.

Meanwhile, Ellie’s story was still spreading like wildfire online. The comment section was full of moral outrage.

"A doctor who refuses to save lives should have their license revoked."

"Someone like that doesn’t deserve to wear a white coat."

I turned off the screen and tossed my phone aside.

In my last life, I had been pressured by that exact wave of public opinion into taking the surgery, and it had ended with me being sentenced to death.

This time, I would never touch her father’s case.

Two days passed.

Everything was calm. I lay on the wooden bed in my old house, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Occasionally, the sound of dogs barking drifted in from outside the window, but it was far more comforting than the wail of sirens at the hospital.

That sense of peace lasted exactly two days.

On the third evening, my phone suddenly vibrated. It was a message from my mother, Dr. Eleanor Cooke.

"Bentley, your college classmate, Ellie Wilson, came to see me today. Her father has cancer, and his condition is quite complicated. I reviewed the medical records. It’s tricky, but not without hope..."

My fingers clenched tightly around the phone. My breath caught.

"Mom, stay out of this!" I replied almost instantly. "Her life or death has nothing to do with us!"

A few seconds later, my mother called.

"Bentley! How can you say something like that?!" Her voice carried both anger and disappointment. "I’m a doctor. Saving lives is my duty. When did you become so cold?"

"Mom, you don’t understand..." My throat tightened. "This isn’t that simple!"

"What is there not to understand? You’ve just been scared by the online backlash!" Her tone turned sharp. "I’ve already scheduled the surgery. First case tomorrow morning."

"Mom!" I shot to my feet. "You can’t take this case!"

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Then her voice turned cold. "Bentley, you don’t deserve to be a doctor."

The call ended. All that remained was the cold, empty dial tone.

I drove back to Ravenshire overnight.

Outside the window, the night was as black as ink. The speedometer needle kept climbing.

My mother was the head of oncology. She was highly skilled, but stubborn to the core. She had no idea that Sebastian hadn’t come to the hospital for treatment. This was a trap.

In my last life, his death had been staged as a medical accident. Every piece of evidence had pointed straight at me.

This time, if my mother took over the surgery...

I didn’t dare think any further.

At 4 a.m., I finally arrived at the hospital.

I rushed into the elevator and headed straight for my mother’s office. The hallway was empty. Only the sound of my footsteps echoed through the silence.

"Mom!"

I pushed open the office door, but no one was inside.

A medical file lay open on the desk. It was Sebastian Wilson’s.

I hurried over and flipped to the last page. In my mother’s handwriting, it read: "Pre-operative preparations complete. Surgery scheduled for 8.00 a.m. tomorrow."

My hands trembled slightly.

Thank God. There was still time.

Just then, a rush of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

"It’s him!" A sharp female voice cut through the silence.

I snapped my head up.

Ellie stood in the doorway. Her face was pale, her eyes red.

"Bentley!" she shouted, pointing straight at me, her voice shaking. "You killed my father!"

Before I could even react, several police officers rushed in and grabbed my wrists!

"Bentley Cooke, you are suspected of murdering Sebastian Wilson. You are now under arrest according to the law!"

The moment the cold handcuffs snapped around my wrists, my entire mind went blank.

"That’s impossible!" I struggled and shouted. "I just got back from Ashford Hollow. I haven’t even stepped into the hospital room! How could I have killed anyone?!

"Tell me, when did Sebastian Wilson die?!"

The memory of my past life’s tragedy surged back, and I demanded the answer at the top of my lungs.

Seeing my reaction, the lead officer, Detective Lewis Taylor, the same man who had led my arrest in my previous life, looked at me with clear confusion in his eyes.

Another younger officer sneered. "Arguing is useless. We have solid evidence."

I struggled wildly.

Detective Taylor watched me. After a moment of silence, he spoke, "Sebastian Wilson died in his hospital room at 3.00 a.m. last night."

By now, the hospital hallway was packed with people. They were the same netizens who had donated online earlier.

"It’s him!" a young woman holding a selfie stick screamed, pointing straight at me. "I said it during the fundraiser. Any doctor who refuses to save someone must have something wrong with them!"

The phone in her hand streamed a live broadcast, comments flooding the screen.

"Trash like this deserves to be a doctor?"

"He should be executed on the spot!"

"I heard he even takes bribes from patients!"

The hallway erupted with overlapping shouts.

"Heartless doctor!"

"Murderer!"

A young man in a baseball cap suddenly rushed forward. "Ptui!"

A mouthful of spit landed directly on my face. "That girl got on her knees begging you, and not only did you refuse to save him, but you killed him? You animal!!"

Through the chaos, I saw my mother standing in the crowd. Her face was pale.

"Mom…" My voice caught in my throat. "Please believe me. I didn’t do anything."

"You’ve disappointed me so much." Her voice trembled. "How could you do something like this?"

The hospital deputy director, Dr. Victor Langford, stared at me coldly. "Bentley, the hospital spent years training you, gave you the best resources, and this is what you’ve done?"

"Director!" I struggled forward. The handcuffs clanged sharply. "I was in Ashford Hollow yesterday. I just got back today. How could I possibly—"

"Enough!" Dr. Langford cut me off sharply, his voice echoing through the hall.

"First, you took leave to avoid responsibility, and now you’re standing here making excuses! You’ve completely ruined the hospital’s reputation!"

Around me, my colleagues gathered in small groups, their whispers drilling into my ears.

"He always acted so decent…"

"I heard he takes bribes from patients all the time…"

"I even saw him harassing a nurse once…"

My heart sank, little by little. Things I had never done were now being treated as the undeniable truth.

"Dr. Cooke, I never expected you to be this kind of person."

I turned my head. Dr. Corey Brown from my department was looking at me with open contempt.

"Earlier, that girl knelt and begged you to save her father, and you said she couldn’t afford it. Then, when she finally raised the money, you took leave and disappeared." He shook his head. "And now look, you’ve caused someone’s death."

"You said I took leave," I raised my voice, locking my eyes onto him, "then how could I have killed anyone?"

"The police arrested you. Of course, they have evidence!" He let out a cold laugh. "Did you forget?

"The hospital has surveillance cameras."

By the time the police brought me into the surveillance room, my palms were already slick with cold sweat.

"Take a look for yourself!"

Detective Taylor tapped on the keyboard, and the footage appeared on the screen.

My eyes narrowed sharply.

In the video, a figure in a white coat pushed open the door to Sebastian’s hospital room. The camera angle was awkward, making it impossible to see the face clearly. By the way he walked and the slight downward tilt of his head…

It looked exactly like me.

Movements could be imitated. I was just about to argue that, but then I saw it.

Right before leaving, the figure lifted his head and glanced straight at the camera.

That single moment was clear enough to see his face.

It was me.

"That’s… impossible…" My voice trembled.

Detective Taylor looked at me. "That's you, isn’t it, Bentley Cooke?"

Dr. Brown paused the video and zoomed in on the face. "See? It’s identical to you."

"So what do you have to say now?" he said, arms crossed, a mocking smile curling at his lips. "A doctor who harms his own patient."

Outside the door, the shouting rose and fell like waves.

"Death penalty!"

"A life for a life!"

"Someone like that shouldn’t be a doctor!"

My mother suddenly dropped to her knees in front of the officers, crying as she begged them to show mercy, to give me a way out.

Detective Taylor stated coldly, "Murder is punishable by execution."

The moment my mother heard that, she collapsed to the ground.

My mind went blank. This couldn’t be real…

I had been in Ashford Hollow. The person in the footage… even his mannerisms were identical to mine. What the hell was going on?

"Detective Taylor, you should take this murderer away now," Dr. Langford said from the side.

"Wait!" Something flashed through my mind. "I have an alibi!"

Detective Taylor raised a brow. "Explain."

"I was at Greenridge Resort when this happened," I said quickly. "I’ve been checked in for the past three days. The front desk and their surveillance footage can prove it."

The room fell silent for a moment.

"Check it," Detective Taylor said, signaling to another policeman.

Dr. Whitaker let out a cold laugh. "Coming up with excuses now? Don’t you think it’s a little late?"

I ignored him completely, staring straight at Detective Taylor. "Call the hotel owner. He can confirm it."

Every second of waiting felt like an entire year.

Finally, two hours later, a middle-aged man drenched in sweat was brought into the surveillance room.

"Mr. Grant Keller," the officer said, pointing at me, "do you recognize this man?"

Mr. Keller squinted at me for a few seconds, then suddenly slapped his thigh. "Isn’t this Mr. Cooke from Room 308? He stayed three days and checked out this morning!"

"You’re sure?" Dr. Whitaker’s expression changed.

"Of course!" Mr. Keller pulled out his phone. "We take a photo of every guest at check-in for records. Look."

On the screen was a photo of me at the front desk, checking in.

Timestamp: 3:27 PM, three days ago.

"And also…" Mr. Keller pulled up several clips of surveillance footage. "Mr. Cooke’s been with us the whole time. Last night, he was even barbecuing in the courtyard."

The footage clearly showed that at the time of the incident, at 3.42 a.m., I was sitting in the guesthouse courtyard, smoking.

The atmosphere in the room shifted.

Detective Taylor’s expression grew serious as he compared the two sets of footage over and over again.

In one, someone who resembled me appeared in the hospital room.

In the other, the real me was miles away at Greenridge Resort.