Devan Williams, the richest man in the country, gets shot by an assailant when he's giving a speech. He's quickly sent to the hospital I work at to undergo a heart transplant surgery.

But my girlfriend, Katie Wilder, insists that her childhood friend, Luke Rivera, has to become Devan's primary doctor. She even takes off Devan's oxygen mask just to coerce me into handing the position over.

"Ashton Howard, if you don't get out of here once I count to three, you'll be facing imprisonment due to medicinal malpractice!"

As I look at Devan, whose face has gone horribly crimson due to asphyxiation, all I feel is a strong sense of ridicule.

So, I call the hospital's security guards on Katie and Luke with the intention to have them dragged out. But the security captain, Jason Wilder, is actually Katie's younger brother who relied on her just to get his hands on this job. He has me pinned on the floor instead.

"From the way I see it, you're the criminal who wants Devan dead! Be honest with me; did you sneak into this hospital just so you can kill him behind everyone's backs?"

I can't help but struggle against Jason. But that's when Luke tramples all over my fingers, causing them to fracture.

At that moment, the vitals monitor begins beeping shrilly.

I lift my head to glare at the culprits. "All of you can never escape your fate!"

The surgery had been going on for nine hours.

I gripped the needle holder, preparing for the most crucial part—the coronary artery anastomosis.

The patient on the operating table was Devan Williams, chairman of Astra Group, who had been shot during a speech at the financial summit.

His company had just broken through international tech barriers with its semiconductor industry, making him an important figure for the nation's pillar.

The bullet had gone through his heart. The situation was as critical as it could get.

In all of Eldermoor, I was the only one who could perform this surgery.

Sweat trickled down my forehead and splattered onto my mask.

Just as I was about to insert the needle, the heavy lead door of the operating room was violently pushed open.

Blinding light and noise flooded in.

My girlfriend, Katie Wilder, barged in with a man dressed in an expensive suit.

I recognized him instantly. He was Luke Rivera, Katie's childhood friend, who had just returned from abroad.

He was boasting loudly to her, his voice dripping with barely concealed arrogance.

"Don't worry. The Williams family's rivals have promised me. If Devan dies on this operating table, they will double their investment. The hospital execs are on my side. They'll protect me if anything goes wrong."

Katie looked at him with admiration, then yelled toward me, "Ashton! Stop for a second!"

My hand trembled, and the needle pricked through my glove.

"Get out!" My voice was hoarse from hours without water.

The operating room was a sterile environment, and they had just barged in dressed in regular clothes. They were basically playing with the patient's life.

Luke raised his chin, holding up a silver metal box. His gaze was a raw display of feverish obsession. "Ashton, I know you're the authority in cardiovascular surgery, but times have changed. Stop using those outdated methods."

He patted the box. "This is our company's latest invention—a fully bioengineered heart valve. It's 100 times better than the pig and cow valves you use. Just use this today. Consider this a favor to me and a chance to save Mr. Williams Senior's life."

I stared at him, unable to believe how crazy he was. "This is a heart transplant, not a valve replacement. By the way, does your so-called new product have clinical trial reports? Has it been approved by the FDA?"

Luke scoffed. "Ashton, don't be so ungrateful."

I didn't waste another word with him. I growled at the terrified nurse standing by, "Call security!"

But Katie suddenly rushed over, grabbed my arm, and shook it violently. "Ashton Howard, what's your problem? Why are you being so harsh?"

She made it sound like I was the unreasonable one.

"Luke is just trying to help the patient! Besides, he said if this works, he'll get the investment. Then, we can get married, and you'll have the money for a villa downtown. Doesn't that sound good?"

Katie looked at me with an innocent yet greedy gaze. "Just listen to Luke. Give him a chance. It won't cost you anything!"

It wouldn't cost me anything?

I jerked my arm away from her. A surge of rage almost burst out of my chest.

I looked at the cold life signs on the heart-lung machine and at Devan's deteriorating body under the sterile cloth. It all felt absurd.

For Luke's investment and the villa she wanted, she was willing to gamble with the life of the nation's pillar and my future, built over years of hard work.

"Get out," I squeezed the word through my teeth and lowered my head again, preparing to continue the surgery.

There could be no more delays.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something terrifying.

Katie actually reached out and yanked the oxygen mask off Devan's face!

With the breathing support cut off, Devan's already fragile body jolted, and the blood oxygen levels on the monitor plummeted.

The alarm blared, piercing and shrill.

"Katie Wilder!" My vision went red.

She raised her chin proudly, holding the mask in her hand. "Ashton, I'll count to three. If you don't hand the scalpel to Luke, Devan will die right here. Let's see how you explain this to the Williams family and the entire country, then."

Her crisp voice rang through the deathly silent operating room, pronouncing my death sentence.

"Don't you love your profession and patients the most? Now, I'm giving you a choice."

I stared at her, my blood freezing in my veins.

I had never known that the girlfriend who cared for me so sweetly and cheered for my successful surgeries could hide such a vicious side.

"One. Two," she started counting with a cruel smile on her face.

The numbers on the monitor were flashing wildly. The red alarm light reflected off her twisted expression.

I slammed the scalpel down onto the instrument tray. The sharp metallic clang echoed in the room.

"Fine. I'll go."

Katie and Luke both flashed smug smiles.

The moment I turned around, I pressed the emergency button on the wall, connecting straight to the hospital security center.

"There are intruders in the operating room, threatening the patient's life. Send help immediately. Set security to the highest level." I calmly issued the order.

Katie's smile froze. "Ashton, how dare you?"

Ignoring her, I quickly put the oxygen mask back on Devan and adjusted the ventilator settings. Slowly, his oxygen levels began to rise again.

In less than 30 seconds, the door to the operating room was pushed open again.

A group of security guards in black uniforms rushed in, led by none other than Katie's younger brother, Jason Wilder.

He had just become the security captain, and he got the job entirely by using my name.

I pointed at Katie and Luke, ordering, "Drag these two out, and call the police!"

Jason glanced at Katie, then at me. Suddenly, a disdainful smile spread across his face. "Dr. Howard, how did my sister and future brother-in-law become intruders? You should have evidence before you make such accusations."

"Evidence?" I laughed in disbelief. "They illegally entered a sterile operating room and interrupted an emergency procedure. Isn't that enough?"

"Did they really interrupt the procedure?" Jason crossed his arms and adopted a strictly business-like air. "All I see is you shouting, losing control, and nearly damaging expensive equipment."

He twisted the facts with ease.

I wasn't going to waste more words on him. I tried to bypass him, intending to push Luke out myself.

But the moment I moved, Jason and two other guards lunged from behind, pinning my arms and forcing me to the ground.

The cold floor pressed painfully against my cheek.

"I think you're the one trying to kill Mr. Williams Senior!" Jason's voice echoed above me, full of smug satisfaction. "Spill it. Did you take money from the Williams family's rivals and infiltrate our hospital to sabotage the surgery?"

Such absurd accusations.

I, Ashton Howard, the youngest chief of cardiovascular surgery in the country at 33 years old, had saved countless lives.

Today, in my own operating room, I was being framed as a murderer by a security captain, who had only gotten the job through connections.

"Let go of me! You're committing a crime!" I struggled, desperately trying to break free from their grip.

But just then, a polished leather shoe came down hard on the back of my right hand.

It was Luke.

He looked down at me with a cruel smile. Then, he slowly put more pressure on my hand.

I heard a sickening crunch.

The force crushed my finger bones.

The searing pain made my vision blur, and I knew that this hand, which I'd held a scalpel with for over a decade, was ruined.

"Ah!" I let out a muffled scream.

Meanwhile, Katie just stood by with her arms crossed, coldly watching everything unfold.

Suddenly, the monitor blared with an urgent, piercing alarm. The heart rate line on the screen trembled wildly before turning into a flat line.

That was a ventricular fibrillation! Devan was having a cardiac arrest!

The anesthesiologist and nurses screamed in panic, "Dr. Howard! The patient's in V-fib! We need to defibrillate immediately!"

I lay there on the cold floor, agony shooting through my right hand.

Through the gap in the crowd, I caught sight of the monitor. The cold, flat line pierced my heart like a blade.

I raised my head, my bloodshot eyes locking onto the three faces before me—Katie's triumphant grin, Luke's cruel smirk, and Jason's arrogant sneer.

"You murderers." My voice was hoarse, yet dripping with an icy rage. "None of you are getting away!"

The pain and fury made my blood burn with heat.

"Defibrillator! 200 joules! Get it ready!" I shouted at the stunned nurses with every ounce of energy in my body.

My hand was ruined, but my mind was still sharp. I was still the lead surgeon in this operating room.

Jason's foot pressed harder into my hand as he warned, "Stay down!"

"Get off me!" I roared, my voice echoing in the room. "If the patient dies, you're all murderers!"

Perhaps the word "murderers" struck a chord. Jason's foot lightened for a moment.

The nurses snapped out of their shock and scrambled to push forward the defibrillator.

"Charging! Stand clear!"

Propping myself up with my left hand, I forced my upper body off the floor and watched as the nurse pressed two electrode pads onto Devan's bare chest.

With a dull thud, Devan's body jolted upward before slamming back down onto the table.

The heart monitor still showed that flat line.

"300 joules!" I barked.

Sweat and tears blurred my vision.

My hand and career could be ruined in this very room. But right now, I couldn't think about that.

All I cared about was keeping the patient alive.

"Boom!"

Another shock.

On the heart monitor, a faint wave-like line finally flickered to life.

Sinus rhythm restored!

A collective sigh of relief swept through the operating room.

But I didn't let myself relax for a second. I immediately issued a string of commands. "Push 1 mg of adrenaline. Start a Lidocaine drip. Get the rib spreader ready. I'm going back on bypass."

My voice trembled from pain, but my instructions were clear and decisive.