Two speedboats collided, and I was left half-conscious, drowning in the open water. I was rushed to Riverside Memorial Hospital, where my wife, Serena Caldwell, worked. Instead of saving me, Serena chose to focus her efforts on operating on her high school ex-boyfriend, who suffered a broken leg in a car accident. She signed the Cremation Authorization Form, effectively sealing my fate. While I was being transported to Westbridge Funeral Home, she led her ex-boyfriend into the very emergency room meant for me. Content Chapter “Dr. Caldwell! This patient was in a boating accident near the coast. He can’t swim and was already unconscious when rescued. He needs immediate medical attention!” Through the fog of my fading consciousness, I felt someone pry open my eyelids. Seconds later, I recognized the cold, clinical voice of my wife, Serena Caldwell. “He’s brain dead. His body is deteriorating rapidly. There’s no point in continuing resuscitation.” “All of you, assist outside. A multi-car pileup just brought in a wave of trauma patients.” Brain dead? Deteriorating? I could still hear them. I was conscious! Recognizing the familiar scent of her perfume, I summoned every ounce of strength I had and curled my finger around the fabric of her scrubs. Serena, save me! She immediately grabbed my hand, her touch momentarily giving me hope. But then, she shoved my hand back onto the bed. She knows I’m conscious! Before I could rejoice, her heels clicked as she stepped away. I heard her instruct the team: “Prepare the OR. I’ll operate on Nathan Cross, the pileup victim with the fractured femur.” Her words sent a chill through me. Nathan Cross—her high school sweetheart. They’d dated in the past, breaking up before college but staying “just friends.” I had trusted Serena when she said she loved me, that she wanted to build a life together. But now, she had just declared me brain dead—so she could save Nathan instead. “Dr. Caldwell,” someone interjected, “According to protocol, we’re required to attempt resuscitation on all emergency arrivals. We also need consent from the patient’s family before discontinuing care. If his family challenges this later, the hospital could face serious consequences—” “Bring me the forms,” Serena cut him off. “I’m his wife. I am his family.” As I heard the swift scratching of pen on paper, alarms from a nearby monitor blared. Minutes later, I heard Serena’s detached voice. “Patient Ethan Clarke. Time of death: September 17, 2024, 1:54 PM. Jamie, draft the death certificate immediately.” “Yes, Dr. Caldwell.” It was absurd. I was alive! How could she declare me dead? Something was wrong. The faint movement I had managed earlier was now gone—I couldn’t move at all. What did Serena do to me? “Hello, Westbridge Funeral Home? My husband just passed. I’d like to arrange a cremation. The death certificate? Yes, I have it…” Her next words shattered my soul. Not only did she abandon me—she wanted to cremate me. When the death certificate arrived, Serena turned to someone nearby. “Give me two minutes to say goodbye to my husband.” I heard footsteps recede. Then Serena leaned close, her breath brushing my ear. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I can’t let Nathan lose his chance to walk again… I’m sorry…” Her voice faded as I slipped further into the abyss. Faintly, I felt hands lifting my body and placing me into a vehicle. “This guy isn’t stiff yet. We’ll keep him in cold storage until the wife finalizes the paperwork.” “Man, he looks young. What a waste.” Their conversation was the last thing I heard before I blacked out. Chapter
When I regained consciousness, I was freezing. The cold seeped into my bones as if I were lying in the snow, with icy winds cutting through me. My shallow breaths echoed faintly in what I now realized was a small, dark space. The air felt stale, and my own breathing was nearly imperceptible. They’d put me in a cold storage unit—a precursor to the cremation chamber. No one knew I was alive. I was trapped in an endless cycle of despair: either freeze to death here or get incinerated while still conscious. I hated Serena Caldwell. I hated her for abandoning me when she could have saved me. Why? Why would she choose him over me? I heard voices approaching, breaking the oppressive silence. The sound of a cabinet door creaking open startled me, followed by the sensation of being lifted. They moved me onto a gurney. “She’s that big-shot surgeon at Riverside, right? So busy her husband dies, and she doesn’t even show up?” “Yeah, someone sent over the death certificate. Time to prep for cremation.” Their casual conversation chilled me further. “Hold on!” A new voice interrupted. Moments later, I felt my gurney shift to the side as more people crowded into the elevator. As the elevator ascended, something brushed against my hand—fabric, different from my clothing. Someone was standing close to me. This was my last chance to signal that I was alive. I summoned every ounce of focus and willed my fingers to curl. Slowly, painstakingly, I managed to clutch the fabric. Ding. The elevator doors opened. “Holy crap! He’s grabbing my clothes!” “Look at his hand, man! He’s not dead!” Desperate, I tugged again, mustering whatever strength I had left. “He’s alive! Call emergency now!” The commotion faded as darkness engulfed me once more. When I woke up again, I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and tubes. Voices echoed from the room’s entrance. “…The patient didn’t show fixed pupils—how did she sign a death certificate?” “Standard protocol requires resuscitation for drowning cases unless the heart completely stops. No one even tried chest compressions!” “A patient declared dead by Riverside somehow revives at Westbridge. What’s going on here?” The voice I recognized as Dr. Logan Mitchell cut in. “This was Dr. Caldwell’s husband. She personally declared him brain dead and signed the DNR form.” “Where is Dr. Caldwell?” someone demanded. “She’s performing surgery on a car accident victim… hasn’t come out yet.” Hearing this, my chest tightened, and tears pricked my eyes. Serena had been inches from me and still chose to save Nathan over me. The tension overwhelmed me. I gasped, unable to breathe. Machines blared with alarms. My vision blurred as the door swung open. Chapter
“The patient has developed cerebral edema. The swelling is compressing his nerves and affecting his breathing—we need to operate immediately!” “Get Dr. Caldwell in here for the neurosurgery. I’ll handle her external surgical cases,” said Dr. Logan Mitchell, urgency clear in his voice. A nurse sprinted out of the room to fetch Serena. Minutes later, hurried footsteps returned. “Dr. Mitchell, Dr. Caldwell said her husband is beyond saving. She insists on staying with her current patient because, in her words, she has to prioritize the living. She also said…” the nurse trailed off, hesitating. “Spit it out!” “She said if you insist on operating on her husband, you’re free to do so. She’s already signed the consent to discontinue care. And… she won’t hold it against you if your skills aren’t up to par.” Even though I already knew, deep down, that Serena valued Nathan Cross more than me, hearing her indifference from someone else stung. Serena was a top neurosurgeon. If she chose to perform my operation herself, my chances of survival—and avoiding severe complications—would significantly improve. But she wouldn’t. Maybe that’s the difference between love and indifference. All I could do now was hope I would survive this… “Prep the OR. I’ll do the surgery myself,” Dr. Mitchell declared firmly. I was wheeled into the operating room shortly after. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I heard the faint sound of a scalpel slicing through my scalp, followed by the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the frantic voices of the surgical team. The longer the operation went on, the colder I felt, like a fragile paper boat struggling against the stormy waves of a vast ocean. My body grew heavier with each passing moment. “Contact the blood bank! We need more units—stat!” “Cardiac arrest! Get the crash cart over here!” Amid the chaos, a voice cut through the noise, steady and resolute. “Stay with us. Don’t give up…” Those words were like an anchor, tethering my fading consciousness. I can’t die. I won’t die. I have to live! How long I fought, I couldn’t say. Eventually, my awareness dissolved into darkness. As I succumbed to the void, a single thought crossed my mind: Would I ever open my eyes to the world again? I hoped so. When I finally woke up, three days had passed. Like before, I couldn’t move or open my eyes, but I could hear the faint beeping of monitors and the hum of medical equipment. I was alive. The realization sent a surge of emotion through me. I had made it through another trial. The sound of a cart being wheeled into the room interrupted my thoughts. Two nurses came in, performing their routine checks and adjusting my IV. One of them tugged the blanket over me and sighed. “Dr. Caldwell’s husband still hasn’t woken up. If she hadn’t misjudged him, he wouldn’t be in this condition. Poor guy…” “He’s lucky to be alive at all,” the other nurse replied. “You know who really got the short end of the stick? Dr. Mitchell. He saved this man and still got suspended because of her complaint. Who knows what else might happen to him?” “I heard reporters are coming in to cover the car pileup and the boating accident. Dr. Mitchell’s suspension means all the attention will go to Dr. Caldwell—” “Shh! Someone’s here.” The nurses fell silent as the door swung open. “Dr. Caldwell!” “I’m just here to check on my husband. Is there anything you need my help with?” Serena’s voice was cool and composed. “N-no, not at all. We’ll check on the other patients,” one nurse stammered before both scurried out. Serena approached my bed. I had no idea what she planned to do, but her presence filled me with dread. Leaning over, she pried open one of my eyelids, then chuckled softly. I felt a wave of unease as she stepped back and pulled out her phone. “Hi, sweetheart. Ethan had the surgery, but his luck ran out—he’s a vegetable now.” Her voice was light, almost amused. “No, don’t worry. I don’t have to get my hands dirty. We’ll still get all of his money. Once everything’s settled, we can finally take that trip abroad…” Her sweet, almost tender tone didn’t match the venomous words she spoke. Serena whispered into the phone as she left the room, her heels clicking against the tile floor. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. She called someone else “sweetheart.” She was plotting my death. She wanted my money?! Chapter
Clang— The door to my hospital room closed, and Serena Caldwell’s footsteps echoed down the hallway until they disappeared entirely. My mind was a whirlwind of disbelief. I couldn’t reconcile the sweet, caring woman I’d married with the person I had just overheard. We’d met two years ago through mutual friends, bonded over our shared love of hiking, and quickly married. Though she had always been a bit distant due to her workaholic nature, she’d shown me moments of tenderness that I cherished. She’d cook me dinner whenever I returned from a business trip and bring me coffee late at night when I was buried in work, urging me to take better care of myself. I still vividly remember the moment I decided I wanted to marry her—just three months into our relationship. But it wasn’t me who proposed. Serena surprised me by dropping to one knee with a ring. She said she felt sorry that I’d lost my parents in high school and spent so much of my life alone. She wanted to give me a home. Back then, her words filled me with warmth, her actions proof of her devotion. But now, lying helpless in this hospital bed, trapped in a body that refused to obey, the truth stared me in the face. She’d never loved me. It was all a scheme. Her kindness, her affection—they were calculated moves to get her hands on the hefty life insurance payout my parents had left me. The love I thought we had was a lie, a con. And I had fallen for it—completely. My heart burned with equal parts rage and despair. Worse yet, her phone call had made it clear she was done waiting. Serena was ready to take the final step to claim my money—my life. I was a vegetable, completely at her mercy. If she wanted me dead, she could easily finish the job right here in the hospital. I couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t run. I could only wait. Wait for a miracle to pull me out of this nightmare. Time passed, and slowly, I began to notice faint signs of improvement. A twitch of a finger here, a subtle jerk of my leg there. The first time a nurse saw me move, she rushed to fetch a doctor. But his verdict dashed any hope: “It’s just a nerve reflex. Nothing to indicate recovery.” But I knew better. I could feel it. The heavy weight trapping my body was lifting—little by little. One day, after the doctor finished his rounds, commotion erupted in the hallway outside my room. Moments later, a group of people filed into my room. Among them was a reporter with a cheerful, melodic voice. “Dr. Caldwell, I understand that in addition to the multi-car pileup, there was a boating accident in the city that day. The victim of that accident… was your husband, correct?” “Yes,” Serena replied, her voice tinged with the perfect amount of sorrow. “My husband runs an advertising agency. That day, his company was organizing a speedboat promotion event. Unfortunately, there was an accident…” Her voice broke slightly, as if she were holding back tears. “Although the emergency team worked tirelessly, he was underwater for too long. He survived but is now in a vegetative state.” “Dr. Caldwell, this must have been devastating for you,” the reporter continued. “And on the same day you were leading the rescue efforts for the car crash victims, no less. The pressure must have been overwhelming.” Serena cleared her throat and let out a dramatic sigh. “We’ve only been married for two years. I never imagined I’d see my husband like this. Of course, it’s been hard. I wish I could take his place…” Her words dripped with faux sincerity, and I felt sick listening to her performance. My body, sensing my boiling anger, responded with sudden, jerking movements. Beep. Beep. Beep. The machines hooked to me sounded their alarms, sending the reporter into a panic. “Dr. Caldwell! What’s happening to him?!” “Nurse, help me!” Serena shouted, rushing to press down on my thrashing body. The nurse quickly checked the monitors and gasped. “Dr. Caldwell, his heart rate is spiking, and his blood pressure is dropping fast!” “Prepare for emergency resuscitation!” Serena barked, pulling the privacy curtain to block the view of the reporters. She knelt on the bed beside me and began performing CPR. Each compression felt like a boulder crushing my chest. I couldn’t breathe and was on the verge of blacking out. “Patient has gone into cardiac arrest…” someone muttered as the equipment was disconnected from my body. I heard Serena’s voice break as she sobbed over me. “Ethan…” Tears streamed down her face as she called my name again, her cries echoing through the room. “Dr. Caldwell, we’re so sorry for your loss. He wouldn’t want you to dwell on this,” one of the reporters tried to console her. “Exactly. Sometimes death is the kinder fate,” another chimed in. Serena wiped her tears and sniffled. “My husband loved life deeply. He even signed a body donation agreement. I’ll honor his wishes by giving his life a new purpose.” The reporter burst into tears, overwhelmed by Serena’s supposed selflessness. “Dr. Caldwell, you and your husband are true heroes. I’ll make sure your story reaches everyone—people deserve to know about your sacrifice.” Their words only added fuel to the fire inside me. This vile woman wasn’t just plotting my death and taking my money—she was using me to make herself famous. But my rage couldn’t move my body. I was still trapped. Still helpless. Until, in my fury, I felt it—a fist. My fist. Clenched tight. I could move. A surge of adrenaline shot through me. Summoning every ounce of strength, I forced my eyes open and sat upright. Serena’s horrified expression was priceless.
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