Had this entire setup been Gareth and Tiffany’s plan from the start?

Nevertheless, Gareth’s panic over his mother’s condition seemed genuine.

A suffocating sense of unease surrounded me as if everything unfolding was part of some grand scheme. I ran my fingers over the bedsheet, trying to piece together all the inconsistencies from my past life.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a notification.

Madam Pratt had just made a large transaction.

My heart clenched. Could it be…?

Before I could follow the thought, Tiffany barged in, dragging Emma Pratt with her.

Tears welled up in Tiffany’s eyes as she yanked my bedsheet away and shouted angrily, "Lil! Your mother-in-law is in critical condition, and you’re just lounging around? Get up and get to surgery, now!"

Emma dropped to her knees, banging her head on the floor repeatedly.

"Lil, please! My mom has always been so good to you! How can you just sit here, acting like nothing’s wrong? For my brother’s sake, please—save my mom!"

I glanced at the security camera outside the door, my mind working quickly.

In my last life, I had rushed into surgery without a second thought. I hadn’t realized that they had set me up from the very start.

Emma had posted a video online, making it look like I was heartless and neglecting my dying mother-in-law. The clip had gone viral, and the entire internet had branded me a vile, ungrateful monster, cursing me and my entire family line.

I had been completely defenseless.

But this time…

A plan slowly formed in my mind.

Holding my breath, I forced my body to tense. My muscles contracted, sending a sudden rush of blood flowing downward. Within moments, the bedsheet beneath me was soaked through with red.

I had one final card to play, and I was going to use it.

The severe bleeding drained the color from my face, and the pain intensified, making my body tremble.

Tiffany froze mid-cry, her expression shifting to outrage.

"Lilianne Davis! What the hell are you doing to yourself?!" Her voice trembled with barely contained fury. "I just gave you painkillers. Why are you bleeding so much?! Madam Pratt is still on the operating table! If you can bear it, then get up and save her!"

I parted my trembling lips and whispered weakly, "Sorry, Tiff. Ever since I took the painkiller you gave me, I’ve felt awful. Could it have… contained something that increases blood flow? Can you take my place? You have to believe in yourself. You’re capable of handling this."

Emma’s face twisted in anger. She rushed forward and slapped me across the face. "You b*tch! You just don’t want to save my mom, do you?! She treated you so well, and this is how you repay her? You call yourself a doctor? You’re just pure evil!"

I didn’t react and simply endured it in silence.

Meanwhile, Tiffany’s face flushed red with panic. Her fists clenched as she struggled for words. For someone of her skill level, this wasn’t a difficult surgery. So why was she so desperate for me to be the one to perform it?

There were plenty of other doctors available. Why did it have to be me, even when I was unwell? Had she miscalculated?

As Tiffany began to fidget anxiously, my phone buzzed again.

It was a message from a friend.

I read it.

Slowly, the corners of my lips curled into a smirk, and a deep, cold hatred settled into my eyes.

This time, I wouldn’t let them win.