My son has an aortic dissection and needs surgery. My husband is a cardiac expert, but I don't bother calling him. Instead, I take a cab straight to the hospital.

In my past life, upon begging my husband, he came home with the ambulance to pick our son up. He also arranged for our son to be admitted.

But because he forgot to bring his phone, his childhood sweetheart died of a heart attack when she couldn't reach him.

He went missing for three months and suddenly returned one day, looking perfectly normal. He even volunteered to prepare the meal on our son's birthday. It turned out he only wanted to poison the food.

He strangled me and cut my neck open. "You forced me to come home to pick our son up. Ciara wouldnt' have died if I'd answered her call that day. You and your son are murderers—you have to pay with your lives!"

When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day my son has an aortic dissection. This time, my husband manages to answer his childhood sweetheart's phone.

But why is he on his knees before me and begging for forgiveness?

"Solange, I understand how you all must be feeling, but there truly isn't a single bed left."

The man in front of me was Terry Jacquez. He was a colleague of my husband, Joel Waylon, and he happened to be the doctor on duty today.

After I was reborn, I drove my son, Oscar Waylon, straight to the hospital.

But Terry didn't even glance at Oscar. He stopped us right outside the cardiac surgery department.

Oscar had been shedding tears nonstop. Back in the car, he had already been too weak to even moan in pain.

My mom, Sadie Newman, paced around anxiously. "How can there be no beds? Isn't that an empty bed over there? Can't we take that one, doctor?"

Terry didn't relent; his expression remained unchanged. "That bed has already been reserved."

My mom was enraged. "How can hospital beds be reserved? Aren't they assigned on a first-come, first-served basis? My grandson is seriously ill, yet you won't assign him to an available bed. Are you even fit to be a doctor?"

"Stop complaining," Terry responded sternly,

He then went on to say, "Your grandson doesn't look like he's suffering from a heart disease at all. Do you know how hard it is to get a bed in this hospital? Why should you get a bed as soon as you arrive?"

After Terry rebuked my mom, he turned to look at me. "I don't want to be harsh, Solange. But if you keep this act up, I will call security."

Terry's face showed a hint of anger, as if he was genuinely irritated by our behavior.

Within a few minutes, several other patients' families gathered to see what was happening. Upon hearing Terry's words, each of them started expressing their frustration.

"Everyone here has waited at least ten days to get a bed. Who do you think you are to be admitted right away? Are you some sort of royalty?"

"You're faking an illness, yet you still have the nerve to cause a scene here! If you want a bed so badly, why don't you just buy the hospital?"

The insults came one after another. By then, Oscar lay against my mom's shoulder with his eyes shut. He was covered in sweat, and his entire body was trembling from the unbearable pain.

He kept murmuring, "Mom, Grandma, it hurts so much. Please help me."

I felt a pang in my heart. The pain was so intense that I could feel it in my core.

Even with Oscar in such a dire state, Terry still didn't believe he had acute aortic dissection.

My mom apologized to Terry. "I'm sorry for what I said. Please just take a look at my grandson. He's in so much pain."

Terry replied arrogantly, "The hospital adheres to a strict policy—no admission, no treatment."

My mom was nearly at her breaking point. She raised her fist in frustration, about to hit him. I stepped forward and stopped her.

I looked at Terry and said, "Terry, my son doesn't have an ordinary heart condition. He has acute aortic dissection. You know how serious this condition is. He needs immediate medical attention and surgery."

Perhaps it was because I spoke very gravely. Terry finally dropped his nonchalant attitude.

A few seconds later, he laughed out loud. "That was some good acting, Solange. But when you looked up this condition on Google, didn't it tell you that children don't get afflicted with this condition?

"When Joel told me you'd do anything to take Ciara's bed, I didn't believe him. Are you seriously using your child as a pawn in a petty rivalry? You're disgusting."

His tone was filled with contempt.

Having lived through this once, I knew how dire my son's condition truly was.

The odds of an adult having acute aortic dissection were one in 100 thousand people, with a nearly 100% mortality rate. The situation was even more grave for a child to have it.

The only doctor in the country capable of performing this surgery was the head of this department.

I couldn't waste time getting angry at Terry or explaining things to him.

I looked at Oscar and saw that his lips had already started turning purple from the pain. A wave of despair swept over me.

I knew Terry would never admit my son, so gritting my teeth, I ran straight to the head nurse's office.

The department where Joel worked was one of the top cardiac surgery departments in the country. Many patients with heart conditions willingly lined up to receive treatments here.

But even in such a department, where hospital beds were incredibly hard to come by, there was always one empty bed.

Joel reserved that bed for his childhood friend, Ciara Lycett.

In my past life, when Oscar had a sudden heart attack, I called Joel since he was a cardiac specialist. At first, he said there was no available bed. But after I begged him, he finally agreed to let Oscar temporarily use that empty bed.

He even hopped on the ambulance that came to pick up Oscar.

But in that brief half an hour, Ciara had a heart attack too. Unable to reach Joel, she died in the ambulance.

After dropping Oscar at the hospital that day, Joel disappeared. He didn't show up again until three months later when Oscar was discharged after making a full recovery.

By then, Joel had resigned from his position at the hospital. The reason he gave was that he wanted to spend more time with Oscar. He started driving me to and from work and even cooked for us daily. He even helped Oscar with his homework.

Just when I thought he had finally returned to our little family with his heart in the right place, he drugged our entire family on Oscar's birthday.

Oscar and my mom died in agony.

Joel kept me conscious by using drugs. He then drove me to Ciara's grave and forced me to apologize to her on my knees.

But I couldn't understand what I had done wrong.

Ciara had battled a heart condition her entire life. After her heart transplant, she didn't take her medication properly, and it led to frequent heart failures.

The day her heart failed, she couldn't reach Joel by phone and didn't think to call 911 either.

A neighbor stumbled upon her and called 911. Yet, she insisted on being taken to Joel's hospital, which was 18 miles away, instead of going to the nearest hospital.

I couldn't understand why Joel blamed me for her death when it was clearly her own actions that led to her demise.

Joel refused to hear a single bad word about Ciara.

His eyes were filled with sorrow as he said, "Our son was perfectly fine. How could he suddenly have heart disease? You must have deliberately interfered to prevent me from receiving Ciara's call. You're the reason I couldn't get to her in time.

"Solange, I've told you countless times that Ciara and I were just friends. Why did you keep hurting her? She stopped taking her medication because of you. If anyone deserves to die, it's you!"

I had no idea what Joel was talking about, but he didn't give me a chance to explain.

"You're the one who killed Ciara. Now you'll feel the horror of dying due to unimaginable heart pain," Joel declared.

With a scalpel, he made an incision from my throat down to my chest. Then, he reached his hand inside my chest to crush my heart.

Upon recalling that, I could still feel the lingering pain in my body. I involuntarily shivered as goosebumps broke out all over my body.

Focused solely on saving my critically ill son, I rushed into the head nurse's office and prostrated myself before her.

"Ms. Rice, I know you have the authority to assign beds. We don't even need a room. We can stay in the hallway. My son has acute aortic dissection, and Dr. Lamere is the only one in the city who can perform this surgery. Please help me contact him. I'm begging you. Please save my son!"

For my son's sake, I abandoned all pride. I banged my head against the floor desperately to plead for help.

The head nurse, Heather Rice, felt sympathy for me. She picked up her phone and started to leave the room, but Terry blocked her path.

"Ms. Rice, you don't seriously believe this, do you? Can't you tell she's putting on a show? Listen, this woman is incredibly manipulative.

"Back then, Joel was planning to go abroad with his first love. However, because of a complaint she filed, they were forced apart. She even used her father, the hospital director, to pressure Joel into marrying her.

"She'd do anything out of jealousy. She says the kid has acute aortic dissection. For all we know, she could be the one who beat him and caused his pain."

Terry's words successfully swayed Heather.

She put her phone away and gently said, "I'm sorry, Ms. Comer. We have to go by our hospital policy. Without a doctor's diagnosis, we can't admit a patient."

In an instant, my heart sank to my stomach.

I had thought that by not calling Joel, he could rush to Ciara's aid, and the tragedy of the past could be averted. But who would have guessed that he'd go to such lengths and even instructed his colleagues to refuse treatment for our son?

In my despair, I heard my mom's shrill scream. "Solange, come quickly! Oscar… H-He's not breathing!"

I dashed outside in a flash.

Oscar lay limply on my mom's shoulder, his arm dangling from the side. I reached out to check the pulse on his neck. When I touched it, I failed to detect any beat.

My heart tightened, and my mind went blank.

Almost instinctively, I shouted, "Quick! Lay him flat on the ground!"

My mom laid him down, and I knelt on the floor to start CPR on Oscar. I began pressing on his chest frantically.

At the same time, my mom turned to the nurses at the nurse's station. She got on her knees and groveled. "Please help us! Look at the child! How can you just stand by?"

The onlookers were stunned.

One nurse tried to come over to check, but Terry stopped her yet again. He said dismissively, "Please don't disturb our work."

Although no one helped, thankfully, Oscar regained a pulse after a few minutes of my unrelenting efforts.

He slowly opened his eyes and called out to me, "Mom."

Thank the heavens! I cried tears of joyful relief and hugged him tightly.

But then it hit me—my son had almost died in this hospital. Thinking about it made my heart ache.

Oscar asked softly, "Mom, am I going to die? Isn't this where Dad works? Why isn't he coming to save me?"

My son's innocent question caused everyone around us to go quiet. I saw that some of the onlookers were wiping away tears.

One said to Terry, "Dr. Jacquez, I don't think they're putting on an act."

"Yeah, Dr. Jacquez. You should examine. This is way too convincing to pass off as merely a hoax."

Upon witnessing the earlier scene, many people started pleading on our behalf.

But Terry remained unmoved. "I can't believe the lengths you would go to, Solange. You must have rehearsed this scene at home many times. Your CPR technique is all wrong. Besides, Joel has already left to be with Ciara, so your little act is wasted."

I was at a loss for words. Even at this point, Terry still didn't believe my son was genuinely ill.

I couldn't hold back anymore and rebuked him mercilessly, "Terry, what have I ever done to deserve all this mocking from you? Even if I've committed any wrongs, I can be held accountable by the law.

"But what about my son? What crime has he committed? As a doctor, you didn't even examine him before dismissing us. Do you deserve to wear that white coat on your back?"

At my words, the people in the crowd grew angry as well.

"Exactly, Dr. Jacquez. What mother would joke with her child's health?"

"She's right. Even if you think it's an act, at least use a stethoscope to check. That way, wouldn't you be able to discern if it's a real emergency or not?"

Under the weight of the crowd's criticism, Terry's expression shifted. Hesitantly, he took off his stethoscope and was just about to listen to Oscar's heartbeat when his phone rang.

Terry answered it right away. "Joel, where are you? Your wife is causing a huge scene in the department."

Upon hearing that name, I felt a chill.

Joel's voice was cold as he replied, "I'm with Ciara. She's been admitted to the hospital. Get someone to kick them out. Once Ciara's condition is stable, I'll be back to handle the situation."

He even added, "No one is to touch that bed—it's reserved for Ciara."

When my mom heard this, she burst into tears and shouted at the phone, "Are you crazy, Joel? Your son is very ill! He could have died! Won't you feel sad if that happens?"

Joel let out a frosty laugh. "No one is more important than Ciara. If he is to die, then let him die."

I hastily covered Oscar's ears but was still a second too late.

He looked up at me woefully and asked, "Mom, why did Dad say that I could just die?"

Try as I might, I couldn't find the words to say. I didn't know how to explain this to Oscar.

Joel hung up, and Terry looked down at me with disdain. "You heard him. Take your child and leave. Stop embarrassing yourself here."

Just then, I saw Heather appear at the doorway with Dr. Frank Lamere.

My eyes lit up, and I ran over with Oscar in my arms.

"Dr. Lamere, please, look at my son! Dr. Jacquez refused to admit him and insisted that he wasn't sick. But I think he has acute aortic dissection."

Frank placed his stethoscope on Oscar's chest due to my desperate pleading. As he listened to Oscar's heartbeat, he started frowning.

Terry walked over and said with contempt, "Don't listen to this woman's nonsense. A child couldn't possibly have acute aortic dissection."

But just as his words fell, Frank put away his stethoscope, took Oscar from me, and ran toward the operating room.

He turned to the head nurse beside him and said, "Notify the operating room that we have a child with aortic dissection."

Then, he shot Terry an icy stare. "Who told you a child couldn't have this condition? You caused an undue delay in the treatment of this child!"