I'm the primary surgeon of the nation's biggest medical malpractice case. Apparently, I've screwed up intentionally in a joint surgery that leads to the instant deaths of five patients.

My wife, Wanda Johnson's mother is one of them.

The medical world purges my name immediately. The Internet demands that I pay the price with my own life.

The patients' families kneel before the court with a petition. With tears running down my cheeks, they plead to the court to sentence me to death.

In order to ease the public outrage, the court decides to euthanize me.

The head of the investigative team of the health department wants to activate Project Nightingale. With the power of AI, the truth of what happened in the surgery will be re-enacted.

But Wanda, who also works as a police officer, shoots that idea down.

"There's no need for that. Do you actually want the patients' families to witness how their loved ones die again? The youngest patient is just an eight-year-old, you know! Let's just euthanize him!"

I was strapped to a cold operating table, my limbs restrained. I couldn't even cry out since my vocal cords had been removed in advance.

I could hear the cheers from the crowd erupting on all sides.

"That murderer is finally going to die!"

"I wish I could rip this evil doctor to pieces!"

There was an LED screen on the judgment platform that kept looping through my so-called crimes—deliberately altering surgical procedures, intentionally administering the wrong medication, causing five patients to die on the operating table, and destroying five families completely.

Wanda Johnson—my wife—stood at the center of the platform and bowed deeply to the crowd. "I'm so sorry! Matthew Sullivan—my husband—has committed a heinous crime! He didn't just take the lives of your family members; he took the life of mine as well!"

Wanda's eyes were brimming with tears, her voice breaking with emotion while saying, "You all can rest assured that I'll carry out this execution fairly."

She raised the syringe and injected the drug into a lab mouse, causing the once-active mouse to die in an instant. She then came toward me and emptied the rest of the syringe into my vein.

She stumbled backward involuntarily once everything was over.

Harvey Little, who was standing beside her, caught her in time and gently reassured her, saying, "You did the right thing, Wanda."

Harvey was not only my medical assistant, but he was also Wanda's first, unattainable love.

Wanda gently squeezed Harvey's hand and said with a faint smile, "I can't believe Matthew would do something like this… If you hadn't caught the discrepancy in time, things would have been much worse, Harvey…"

In that instant, the people in the crowd immediately voiced their sympathy.

"Dr. Little is truly unfortunate! He was actually stabbed in the back by his most trusted mentor!"

"He was the one who exposed Matthew! He showed real medical ethics and compassion!"

"If it weren't for his early discovery, the death toll could have been higher!"

Wanda took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping across everyone present before finally settling on my face. She scowled, her eyes reflecting clear and total disgust.

It was then that the "Project Nightingale" system suddenly activated. It was a new AI technology that used OR footage, medical statistics, and the memories of those who participated in the surgery to show exactly what happened during the operation.

That massive screen suddenly flickered to life, displaying the Concordia Hospital ER from a winter three years prior. I was 26 years old back then and had been standing at the operating table for 72 hours straight. I had successfully finished 13 complex cardiac surgeries without a single failure.

I removed my gloves and stumbled after having completed the last one. I suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood that sprayed all over the white tiled floor before collapsing.

In that instant, everyone in the hall fell silent.

It wasn't long before an even louder wave of questioning broke out in the hall.

"What do you mean he operated for 72 hours straight? Who is he trying to fool here?"

"I know, right? It's ridiculous how a murderer is still trying to act like a saint at this point!"

Wanda looked grim, ordering the technicians to immediately check for any traces of tampering in the memory source.

Harvey walked to her side and subtly guided the situation. "Dr. Sullivan is very calculating. He probably expected the use of the 'Project Nightingale' system and had deliberately tampered with the memory source. It's a good thing we went straight for the judgment, Wanda."

Wanda let out a scornful laugh, her eyes brimming with contempt. "You're absolutely right. Matthew could collapse or even die on that operating table for all I care. He still wouldn't be able to wash the blood of those five people off his hands."

She turned toward Harvey, her voice instantly softening while saying, "Thank you for always being there for me, Harvey."

Harvey wrapped an arm around her, smiling smugly. "You don't have to thank me, Wanda."

I felt a wave of bitterness surging within me as I watched them interact so intimately. Wanda's eyes, which used to look at me with such gentleness, now held nothing but blatant loathing. I could still feel a slow, grinding pain in my chest, as if my heart were being slowly torn apart.

Harvey was the real villain behind the tragedy, but Wanda refused to listen to my explanation. She silenced me for good by surgically removing my vocal cords, and the day before the trial, she stared at me with bloodshot eyes and asked, "How could you kill my mother, Matthew?"

I kept shaking my head, trying to tell her that it wasn't me. She still refused to believe me, though. She drove ten sharp needles into my fingers, the pain so excruciating that it made me bite my lip until it bled. "It was these very hands that killed my mother."

She then looked down at my bloodied, mangled hands and cried.

In the meantime, my memories were still playing on the large screen, transitioning to a path lined with magnolia trees at my medical school. Wanda, who was much younger back then, was standing by a tree in her police uniform, waiting for me.

I hurried to her, gasping for air with a stack of medical books in my arms.

Wanda then pulled a lollipop from her pocket like a magician, unwrapped it, and held it to my lips, exclaiming, "Congratulations, Matthew! Your first time acting as the lead surgeon for an animal experiment today was a huge success!"

I bit into the lollipop and let the sweet flavor fill my mouth, though I still felt a bit shaken about the surgery. "I was trembling the whole time during sutures. I nearly nicked the aorta, Wanda."

"You have nothing to be afraid of. You'll definitely become the most renowned doctor in the country in the future, Matthew," Wanda said as she took my hand and laced her fingers with mine, looking at me earnestly. She looked at me with eyes sparkling so brightly that it seemed like stars were reflecting in them.

It was the kind of adoration any man would crave from the woman he loved. I felt a wave of warmth washing over me after hearing that. I remained silent, simply holding her hand a little tighter.

That memory came to a stop at that very moment.

Wanda's body momentarily froze, and for a split second, her expression betrayed a swirl of conflicting emotions.

Harvey instantly noticed Wanda's hesitation. He interjected somberly, saying, "Dr. Sullivan had such high aspirations back then. He unfortunately couldn't resist the allure of status and money, though. It just goes to show that everyone eventually changes."

Wanda suddenly snapped out of it, her expression turning cold again. "You're right. Matthew truly might have been a decent doctor in the past, Harvey."

I tried to speak, trying hard to defend myself, but it was useless since no one could hear me.

It was then that the scene suddenly shifted to when I had been assigned a difficult case—an eight-year-old boy named Levi Hall with a rare heart condition.

There wasn't a single doctor in the entire country who was willing to perform the operation. They were terrified that a failed surgery would ruin their reputation, but that didn't stop me.

I held Levi in my arms and said, "You have nothing to be afraid of, as I'm going to make your heart all better, Levi."

Levi asked hesitantly, "Can I run around like the other children after the surgery?"

I nodded with a smile, replying, "You'll definitely be able to do that."

It was a surgery that lasted for 16 hours. I was drenched in sweat all over my back as I opened the chest, performed the surgery, and finished the sutures—each step was executed perfectly.

I finally breathed a sigh of relief and let out a satisfied smile once the suturing was done and Levi's heart began to beat on its own.

It was then that someone in the crowd said softly, "That's the eight-year-old boy. Matthew saved him, then had him killed."

Harvey immediately picked up on the remark. "That's right! He saved that boy, which means he knew the condition better than anyone! He did it on purpose! He must have deliberately made a mistake!"

There were more murmurs of agreement from the crowd, though some doctors couldn't help but furrow their brows.

"Why would he kill the boy after going through the trouble of saving him, though?"

Harvey bit his lip. "It's hard to tell. It might have been for the money."

It was then that the screen went black and then flickered to life, showing the gore of the OR. It was a multi-organ transplant involving five patients at once, all receiving different parts from the same donor, and among them was Levi, the eight-year-old boy.

It was an extremely difficult and high-risk surgery. There were 23 people on the surgical team. I was the lead surgeon, while Harvey served as my primary assistant.

In my memory, I stood at the central operating table, my expression intense and focused. "Get ready—we're starting!"

I opened the chest cavity with a scalpel, and as blood began to surge, I moved with speed and precision. I was three hours into the procedure, and everything was right on track—until Levi's heart rate monitor suddenly let out a piercing wail.

"Patient No. 5's blood pressure is crashing. He's showing signs of acute rejection, Dr. Sullivan!"

I immediately looked over. "Get one milligram of epinephrine and administer it intravenously now!"

I accepted the syringe from the nurse and was on the verge of administering the injection.

Harvey suddenly cried out as he stumbled. He slammed hard into my arm and caused the syringe to fly out of my hand and shatter on the floor, causing the fluid to spill across the floor. He then apologized frantically, saying, "I-I'm so sorry, Dr. Sullivan! I-I just lost my footing!"

I had no time to deal with him and shouted for the nurse to prepare another dose, but during those few seconds of delay, the heart monitor flatlined. There was ultimately nothing we could do after half an hour of resuscitation efforts.

That was when everything started falling apart. Levi's death caused the donor organ chain to collapse, and the other four patients soon developed complications as well, with one after another dying right before my eyes. That day, five families were destroyed in an instant.

I dropped to my knees on the floor, feeling cold all over as the sound of a dead flatline echoed in my ears.

It was then that the crowd in the hall erupted into commotion.

"There he is! He's the one who made the mistake!"

"If he had kept a steady grip and moved faster, those lives wouldn't have been lost!"

Harvey hid his face in his hands and hung his head in distress. "It's all my fault. It wouldn't have turned out this way if I hadn't knocked into Dr. Sullivan…"

Wanda patted Harvey's shoulder, her gaze fixed on the screen with burning resentment. "It's not your fault, Harvey. It was Matthew's need to show off that caused this."

She pointed at the screen, where I collapsed on the floor, and spoke slowly and sharply, as if sentencing a criminal.

She gritted her teeth as she said, "If he had just played it safe and done those surgeries one at a time, those four people would still be alive. It is clear that men like him, who prioritize their reputation over their patients, deserve no sympathy."

In the meantime, on the screen, I felt a crushing sensation in my heart, making every breath a struggle. I was completely unresponsive when the investigation team arrived to escort me from the OR, as if I were nothing more than a puppet that had lost its soul.

I was being escorted out of the hospital when a woman suddenly forced her way past security and lunged at me. She threw the sulfuric acid she had hidden beforehand in the midst of the chaos.

I felt a scorching heat as the fluid hit me and burned my throat—my mind went blank as a loud ringing filled my ears. I then heard that woman yell, "You monster!"

It was unclear who struck first, but a mob of reporters and relatives swarmed me in a frenzy. I felt my hair being wrenched, and my scalp stung with a splitting pain, while my white coat was torn to pieces in the chaos.

"You murdered my father! You deserve to die!"

It was then that a man rushed over, screaming and kicking me hard in the stomach. I curled up on the ground as a wave of intense pain washed over me, my body trembling all over.

Wanda's gaze was fixed on the screen, her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles were turning pale.

In the meantime, cheers broke out among the crowd. "He had it coming! He deserves to be doused in acid after killing all those people!"

"Well done! That piece of trash deserves to suffer!"

It was then that the memory playback froze, and the AI system's mechanical voice echoed through the hall. "Data stream abnormality detected—executing deep recovery…"