I was an emergency physician.

After finishing a night shift, I had just walked out of the hospital entrance when a colleague from the hospital called me.

"Dr. Doherty, hurry back. A critically injured patient was just brought in. The chief wants you to return immediately and help with the resuscitation."

I turned around without thinking.

But then a stream of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes.

[Do not enter the operating room! Do not take part in this resuscitation!]

[The patient is already dead. If you go in, you will be taking the fall for the hospital director's daughter!]

[This patient's family is powerful. You will not only be sentenced to death, your parents will also be forced to jump to their deaths as well!]

My steps stopped cold.

A few seconds later, my heart tightened.

I decided to believe the comments.

I would gamble on it.

My eyes swept quickly across the ground.

I immediately locked onto an uncovered deep shaft on the road.

I gritted my teeth, shut my eyes, and threw myself straight into the opening.

I had been an emergency physician for almost ten years.

I had always valued my patients' lives more than my own.

So when the department called, I barely hesitated.

I immediately turned around and headed back.

But just as I was about to reach the emergency building entrance, floating comments suddenly appeared out of nowhere before my eyes.

I froze.

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes desperately, wondering if too many night shifts had finally broken my brain.

But the comments were still rolling steadily above my head.

[It's over. The moment you step into the operating room, they will announce the patient's death.]

[They are waiting for you to go in and become the scapegoat.]

[The entire operating room will cover for the hospital director's daughter, Olivia Hart, and accuse you of causing the patient's death through surgical error.]

[Be careful!]

My mouth fell open.

Olivia Hart had been my roommate for four years in medical school and my closest friend.

Why would she choose me as the scapegoat?

Countless questions spun through my mind, and for a moment, I had no idea what to do.

Just then, I heard passersby nearby discussing the accident at the intersection.

"Did you see it? A Bentley drove straight into the river."

"The owner has already been sent into resuscitation. Must be someone important."

At that exact moment, my phone buzzed twice more.

It was Olivia.

"Evelyn, where are you? Hurry up!

"The pre-op prep is done. We are only waiting for you to scrub in!

"Move faster. I am waiting for you outside the operating room!"

Looking at those three urgent messages, my blood nearly froze.

Could there really be such a coincidence?

A patient with a powerful background.

Olivia urging me to hurry onto the table.

Once I calmed down and thought it through, this was supposed to be an ordinary emergency case.

There were so many on-duty doctors in the emergency department.

Why did they absolutely need me, a doctor who had just finished a night shift, to rush back for surgery?

The more I thought about it, the more believable the floating comments became.

Once I changed into scrubs, from that moment on, I would become a lamb waiting for slaughter.

The patient's death would all be pinned on me.

With every colleague testifying against me, there would be no way to clear my name.

I did not dare keep thinking about it.

The more I thought, the more a chill crawled up my spine.

I looked at Olivia's messages and did not reply immediately.

Almost ten minutes had passed since I received the notice.

A decision flashed through my mind.

Since the comments said I would be framed, then I would gamble on them.

As long as I never appeared in the operating room, no one could accuse me.

My eyes swept quickly across the ground.

I immediately locked onto the road in front of the emergency building.

There was an uncovered deep shaft that had not yet been sealed.

I pretended to rush toward the emergency department.

When I reached the opening, I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes.

Then I threw myself hard into the shaft.

A sudden feeling of weightlessness swallowed my whole body.

I instinctively tensed.

The next second, I slammed heavily onto the hard concrete at the bottom of the shaft.

There was a dull thud.

The impact seemed to shake pain through all my organs.

Thankfully, the bottom of the shaft was dry and had no standing water.

But the bare, hard ground offered no cushioning at all.

A violent wave of pain spread from my head and lower leg through my entire body.

I trembled in agony, cold sweat soaking through my clothes almost instantly.

I knew very clearly that I had most likely broken a bone.

This old drainage shaft on the outskirts of the hospital had been abandoned for years.

A few days ago, someone had stolen the manhole cover.

It had not yet been replaced.

Only an inconspicuous warning barrier circled the shaft.

Because I was rushing to do emergency surgery, I had not seen it clearly and had stepped into it by accident.

There could not be a more perfect accident.

My phone, which had fallen beside me, kept ringing again and again.

In the dark, silent bottom of the shaft, the ringtone sounded especially sharp.

But I did not move.

I let the calls ring and stop, stop and ring again.

I kept my eyes tightly closed.

A person who had fainted could not possibly answer the phone.

All I needed to do was quietly wait until someone discovered me.

The longer that took, the better.

Fifteen minutes later, the workers who had come to install the new manhole cover arrived at the scene.

They immediately saw my bag scattered near the shaft opening.

One worker's heart tightened. He bent down and looked inside.

The beam of his flashlight shone into the shaft and instantly revealed me lying motionless below.

"Someone fell into the shaft! Save her!"

The worker immediately grabbed his walkie-talkie and called for help.

I maintained the posture of someone unconscious, eyes closed, as the commotion above grew louder and louder.

I heard countless footsteps and shouts coming from the opening.

More and more people gathered.

I could even hear the clicking of phone cameras.

Before long, police officers and firefighters arrived one after another.

A rescue ladder was quickly set up.

The firefighters carefully secured my severely injured, unconscious body with ropes and slowly pulled me out of the shaft.

The moment I emerged, everyone could clearly see it.

My face and head were covered in blood.

I let out a faint, pained groan.

No one dared delay. They immediately carried me into the emergency building beside us.

While I was waiting to be rescued, the floating comments filled me in on what should have happened in the original storyline.

Olivia and I had been medical students in the same year. We were as close as sisters throughout our four years of college.

Later, we both entered one of the top three hospitals in the country.

The difference was that I got in through my own ability, while Olivia relied on her father, the hospital director.

She had lived in my shadow for a long time, and over time, something in her heart twisted.

She wanted to beat me in everything.

This accident had been her responsibility.

But Olivia's medical skills were not solid, and she had been desperate to prove herself.

She directly caused the patient to suffer brain death ahead of time.

The first thing she thought of was to make me take the blame.

That way, she could avoid prison and get rid of me at the same time.

After reading the comments one by one, my entire body went cold.

For four years in college, I had sincerely treated her as my best friend.

I had never harmed her in the slightest.

I never imagined her heart could be so dark and vicious.

Fortunately, I won the gamble.

I wanted to see how she would pin this on me now.

The male doctor responsible for treating my wounds was Daniel Reed from my department.

When he saw my face, his hands paused.

His pupils shrank sharply.

"Dr. Doherty? You... why are you here? Shouldn't you be in the operating room resuscitating the patient right now?"

As soon as he said that, the police officer beside me spoke first.

"Oh? She is a doctor at your hospital? She accidentally fell into a deep shaft. We just rescued her."

Daniel froze.

His gaze fell on my face.

His mouth opened, then closed, as if he wanted to speak several times but stopped himself.

It seemed he knew something.

But in front of the police officers, he did not dare say another word.

He could only silently pick up his instruments and carefully treat my wounds.

The debridement and suturing process was clear and torturous.

The cut on my forehead alone needed three stitches.

My right leg was placed in a cast because of the fracture.

Then I was pushed into the exam room for a head CT.

Fortunately, the results showed only a mild concussion and nothing serious.

Once I appeared more conscious, two police officers walked into the observation room with a notebook.

They needed to take my statement as part of the routine accident inquiry.

"Dr. Doherty, please recount the full process of how you fell into the shaft."

Leaning against the headboard, I acted as if I were trying hard to remember.

"After finishing my night shift, I had just walked out the front gate when a colleague from the department called and told me to return to the operating room immediately to help with a resuscitation.

"I was anxious and a little dazed, so I did not notice the open shaft on the road. I stepped into it and fell straight down."

The officers listened and nodded repeatedly.

Soon after, someone from the hospital's surveillance room hurried over.

They carried the complete road surveillance footage and handed it to the officers for verification.

The surveillance footage was clear and complete. It matched my statement exactly.

After watching it, the officers confirmed that this was purely an accident.

Just then, I suddenly cried out.

I pretended to be anxious.

"Oh no! Oh no! They are still waiting for me to return for surgery! How did I lose so much time here?"

I tried my best to show the normal reaction an emergency physician should have.

Ignoring my injuries and the officers' attempts to stop me, I struggled to get up.

"Push me over there! I have to get back to the operating room!"

The officers quickly tried to calm me down.

"Dr. Doherty, please stay calm. Your current physical condition is not suitable for surgery."

But I acted frantic, forcing myself upright and insisting on sitting in a wheelchair.

"No! I am worried. I have to go over and check!"

No one could stop me.

But when I was hurriedly wheeled to the operating room entrance, the atmosphere there was already deathly still.

A crowd of crying, devastated family members had filled the hallway.

The operating room light had gone out.

The resuscitation was over.