The Surgery That Will Kill Her

My name is Ava Sullivan. I was once the youngest chief surgeon, having performed over three thousand two hundred surgeries with a one hundred percent success rate. Today, I walked through the gates of the prison, the sunlight piercing my eyes until I could barely open them. The asphalt outside the prison had softened under the heat, a line of black luxury cars stretched out, and the door of the first car swung open as Cameron Lincoln stepped out. He wore a bespoke dark gray suit, platinum cufflinks gleaming at his cuffs. Three years had passed, and he looked more composed than before, yet somehow even more distant. "Ava." He spoke, his voice as deep as in my memory, yet utterly devoid of warmth. I did not answer him but lowered my head to look at my own hands. These hands had once wrought countless miracles on the operating table; now, they could not even form a fist. "Get in the car. The doctors are all waiting at the manor." Cameron's tone allowed no room for denial. I looked up and saw hundreds of black-clad bodyguards standing behind him, aligned in a solid, impenetrable wall. This was not a reception—it was a forced escort. I was shoved into the back seat, Cameron sitting beside me; the scent of his cologne permeated the air, a sharp contrast to the sterile disinfectant smell of the prison. "Your hand requires special treatment," he said, staring straight ahead. "In one month, Jinny's heart surgery must be performed by you as the lead surgeon." Jinny Lewis — that name pierced my heart like a sudden, sharp needle. The operating room lights from three years ago suddenly flashed before my eyes. That day, I performed a highly complex coronary artery bypass surgery. The patient was a well-known entrepreneur, and I had refined the surgical plan for two whole weeks. Jinny Lewis suddenly burst into the operating room, dressed in sterile surgical gowns, smiling brightly as she said, "Let me practice, Ava. Consider it as gaining experience for me." She is Cameron Lincoln's adopted younger sister, spoiled by him since childhood to the point of lawlessness. I frowned at that moment: "This surgery carries too great a risk; you are not yet qualified to participate." Outside the operating room, Cameron sent me a message: "Let her take part. If anything goes wrong, I will take responsibility." I dared not defy him and could only let Jinny Lewis handle some auxiliary tasks, like passing instruments. But when the surgery reached a critical stage, she suddenly slowed the pace of handing over the scalpel deliberately, muttering irrelevant words under her breath. I rebuked her to concentrate, but she suddenly shoved me forcefully; seizing the moment I lost balance, she swiftly grabbed a piece of gauze from the instrument tray and stuffed it into the patient's chest cavity. "What are you doing!" I exclaimed, torn between shock and anger, reaching out to pull her back. She suddenly screamed, rolling on the ground: "Ava, why did you push me? I was only trying to help you!" The next moment, the operating room door was slammed open as Cameron Lincoln stormed in with a group of men. He neither glanced at Jinny Lewis lying on the ground nor at the critically ill patient on the operating table; his gaze was locked solely on me. "Ava, you truly have some nerve." His voice carried a bone-chilling chill. Just as I was about to explain, two bodyguards surged forward and gripped my shoulders tightly. Jinny Lewis rose from the ground, walked over to Cameron Lincoln, linked her arm with his, and said plaintively, "Cameron, Ava certainly didn't mean it; she was just too nervous." As she spoke, she cast a defiant look at me, a secret smile playing at the corner of her lips. Only then did I realize—it was a trap. "The patient is still hemorrhaging!" The anesthetist's voice trembled with tears. I struggled to return to the operating table, but Cameron stepped forward and held down my wrist. "Crack"—two sharp sounds echoed as I clearly felt my carpal bones snap. A searing pain surged through my entire body instantly, cold sweat streaming down my forehead. "Ava," Cameron Lincoln whispered into my ear in a voice meant for only us, "take the blame for all this, or your parents—I will make them vanish." I jerked my head up and stared at him, unable to believe what I had just heard. The man I had loved for five years, my husband, was using my family to threaten me. My entire body turned icy cold, as if I had plunged into an ice cellar.